by Jean Winter
“I guess you need to make a good impression—act normal.”
Lyra gave a short laugh. “What's normal?”
Kade rolled his eyes. “Make her believe that you are a humble, motivated khari'na, eager to fulfill your duties however and whenever I see fit.”
He had serious doubts Lyra could take on such a persona. She was inherently too honest and way too prudish—a puritanical zealot—but to his surprise, she squared her shoulders. “I can do that.”
“Oh really?”
On impulse, Kade strolled over to her, so close that their bodies nearly touched. Then he took her by the waist and slowly drew her against him, breathing in her sweet scent as he did so. Her physical response: increased heart rate, rise in temperature, and a slight tremor. His interpretation: usually indicative of pleasurable attraction, but coming from Lyra the Believer … it had to be revulsion. They could be remarkably similar.
“Will groping me in front of your mother really be necessary?” she said, a stubborn glint forming in her eye despite her telltale signs otherwise. It made Kade grin.
“Okay,” he said. “We will try this scenario. Go put on something pretty and see what you can do with your hair.”
“Yes, my lord.” Head tilted curtly, she backed out of his grasp and walked away.
Kade watched her go, doubting her ability to pull off this charade, though, all in all it could work. Lyra wouldn't need to do much. Most of the responsibility for a convincing performance would rest on his shoulders, and he knew how to handle his mother—starting with cooking her his pasta and salad she liked so much. She always preferred him clean shaven, too ….
The pasta did not take long to start simmering and a glance out the window revealed no sign of anyone coming up the road yet. Kade walked into his bedroom to change and found Lyra staring at herself in the vanity's mirror, looking rather distressed, makeup items strewn before her.
“Are you all right?” If she was already fretting this much over the thought of acting “normal” with him they were in trouble.
“Well, no. I am trying to cover up this bruise. I don't want you to have to explain where it came from, but these shades are the wrong color for me.”
Oh. “Let me have a look.” Kade knelt beside her and saw that she was right. Her natural skin tone was darker. All this makeup did was highlight the unfortunate aftermath of his anger. He began to gently wipe it off with a facial cloth. “We will just say it was some kind o' accident,” he consoled, repulsed even more by his reaction of that night.
All of a sudden, Lyra bolted upright like a thought just struck her. “No,” she said. “This should be my punishment for my 'impudence' of that day. If you can make her believe that you have already done your civic duty in reprimanding me—”
Kade readily continued the thought, “—and if you can play up sincere repentance ...”
It suddenly looked like they had a solid plan—demoralizing as it would be for her. The poor woman. Despite her misguided beliefs, probably brainwashed into her from an early age, Lyra had demonstrated remarkable poise and fortitude in the face of tragic circumstances. It was why, in part, Kade felt such a need to protect her. She deserved better.
“It would at least quiet her concerns, right?” she asked.
“It could go a long way.”
Kade proceeded with his clothing change at his dresser and began to rehearse possible lines and responses for Mother, until his thoughts turned back to Lyra and her inventive thought about Jos'lie. Lyra was still at the vanity, working some pretty braids into her hair. With a furtive eye, Kade watched her a moment and imagined how satisfying it was going to be when he could eventually—gently, but unequivocally—convince the intriguing woman of such potential of the error of her convictions. He imagined leading her, encouraging and supportive, into the modern world of enlightenment and freedom. It was going to be such a beautiful thing.
# # #
Another braid got set and pinned and Lyra marveled at today's unusual turn of events. Had they really just formed an alliance? She had no guarantees about her place here, but J'Kor knew what she was, he hadn't blown up when she brought up her religion regarding his daughter, and he was currently plotting with her to deceive his mother! It was a pretty good start.
He needs you. Lyra thought she had an inkling now of what that might mean. This hardworking, single father with two children to raise—one of them in particular need of love and care—had his work cut out for him. Lyra knew she had much to offer. Mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually. The physical element she excluded from the list on purpose, though it was obvious that courtesy still loomed darkly over everything. He was a man brought up in the ways of the world, and she had noticed how he still looked at her.
But maybe he was exhibiting some potential.
Lyra squelched some mounting bitterness regarding her own poor children, completely bereft of both mother and father, while it appeared that J'Kor's kids were about to enjoy the benefits of both again. None of this was their fault, and she wouldn't allow herself to be resentful of them. Lyra continued her assessment of herself in the mirror.
In addition to the obvious bruise, the hollowness of her eyes and pastiness of complexion bore witness to the stresses her body had experienced the last two days. She really needed to lie down and sleep for several more hours, but that would have to wait. Thankfully, a little blush and a touch of color to her lips did wonders, and with a last grim look, Lyra left the vanity. She had a performance to pull off.
Food preparation was well under way in the kitchen, though J'Kor was nowhere to be seen. Lyra thought to look for him until a strange, repetitive sound met her ears. It was coming from outside. She peered out the front window.
Wheeling up the driveway, was a kind of coach/wagon moving itself along—without the aid of any beast of burden. Will wonders never cease? A thresherless carriage. But before Lyra's curiosity could pique too much, she remembered the likely occupant of that electrical … motorized … whatever-engineered-feet-that-powered-it mechanical contraption. She didn't ogle very long.
“My lord?” she called out.
“Aye!” It sounded like he was in the bathroom.
“My lord,” striding to the door she decided her dizziness wasn't … too bad, “I think she's coming.”
Something was muttered before she heard an, “All right—” followed by a sudden catch in his breath and a louder bit of swearing. Finally, “I will be out as soon as I can. Go out to the porch to receive her. Good luck.”
Good luck? With a gulp, Lyra returned to the front door and steeled herself. Humbled. 'Enlightened.' Ingratiating. She stepped outside.
The powered carriage had already pulled up and a tall, reserved driver stood to help down an austerely dressed matron of a woman with a rather severe expression chiseled into her stone facade. Her sweeping, feathered hat did not quite cover the whole of her head and wisps of silvered hair hinting at a past ebony blackness fluttered softly about the high, tight collar at her creamy brown neck.
J'Kor obviously got his coloring from his father.
The woman set bright green eyes on Lyra who bent one knee entirely to the porch floor with bowed head. “You. Girl. 'Na Lyra, I presume?” the punctuated alto timbre rigidly addressed.
“Yes, my lady. At your service, my lady.” Lyra didn't dare look up.
“You may approach.”
Lyra humbly did as ordered, mincing down the steps as well as she could, and knelt before Lady J'Kor who smelled … very clean. She was given a long, silent appraisal, then her chin was raised with a white gloved hand. At the meeting of their eyes, Lyra beheld a face that in its youth had been blessed with great beauty. It was also a face accustomed to getting what it wanted.
“You are smaller than I was expecting. Did my son give you that mark?”
“For my misbehavior in public, my lady. My Lord J'Kor in his goodness, however, has since forgiven me.” Uck! Yuck!
A nasal, condescending “hmm”
rolled out as Lady J'Kor turned Lyra's face one way then the other. “Indeed. You are lucky my son is such a kind man. You should have received a harsher beating.”
“You are only seeing what is readily visible, my lady.”
“Mother!” J'Kor's footsteps tapped briskly down the steps toward them. “What a pleasant surprise. Why did you no' call so I could prepare for your coming?”
Lyra's chin was given back to her and Lady J'Kor allowed her son to bestow a light kiss to her forehead. Lyra astutely kept her nose pointed at the woman's feet.
“Is a mother no' allowed to visit her only son any time she feels like it?”
“O' course, Mother, it is just that you never come without calling first.”
“So I was feeling a little impetuous today, darling. Have my grandchildren arrived yet?”
“They should be here within the hour. Afternoon Shapler,” J'Kor said to the driver positioned off Lady J'Kor's shoulder. “So is the fancy new ride your idea or hers?”
The manservant chuckled, then said with an educated, mellow smoothness, “I convinced her that I would no' smell so bad in the house anymore if I did no' have threshers to hitch up every day. It was the first one off the lot.” The last phrase was spoken with some pride.
“Aye, but now he smells like piston grease,” the Lady J'Kor countered. “Come, Shapler. Take me into the house. It is good to see you have finally shaved off that infernal beard, Kadent,” she said over her shoulder. “I shall no' be required to make excuses for your untidiness in public anymore. Such disregard for personal appearance—that did no' come from my side o' the family …” Blessedly, the woman's voice was soon muffled by the home's interior.
“We are in luck. She is in a good mood today,” J'Kor murmured wryly.
As she took his proffered hand, Lyra had words prepared worthy of following such a comment, but they got hung up in her throat when she finally lifted her head and caught sight of the smooth, chiseled jawline that framed J'Kor's crooked grin under thick, golden hair glinting in the sun.
Holy Hoosfeathers!
Her mouth went dry. Her pulse quickened. And a sensation pulsed up her vertebrae to her hypothalamus where it got translated into something disturbingly passionate about how hot he looked.
Lyra completely forgot what she had been about to say.
Grinning at her mouth agape, J'Kor rubbed a palm over his bareness near a spot where he had evidently nicked himself. “Well,” he said, “I figured it would soften up Mother.”
“I, uh, it looks nice.”
“Kadent, stop dawdling with the girl and come sit with me,” rang Lady's J'Kor's voice from somewhere inside. “I should like to have a word.”
J'Kor sighed. “Do you think you are up for fixing some tea?” he said, taking Lyra by the elbow to lead her up the steps. She regathered her composure.
“Of course. I will take care of dinner as well if you just show me what you want.”
“No. You need to rest. I do no' want you to collapse from exhaustion.”
“Will your mother like to see me being domestic?”
“Well, aye,” he admitted.
“Then let me cook.”
With that, she freed herself of J'Kor's hold and headed straight to the kitchen, ignoring his disgruntled frown. She also ignored the sudden pressure in her head reminding her that she was moving around an awful lot after being unconscious for a day and a half. The counter next to the stove was nice to lean against while she stirred the pasta and made tea as she listened to J'Kor speak with his mother on the sofa. The soft-spoken Shapler chose to engage himself in a book elsewhere in the great room.
Obligatory small talk came first: polite inquiry as to Lady J'Kor's health, the message the family friend had left (something about addendums to the “Spring Rally Gala” guest list), her recent social calls of note. Then Lady J'Kor deemed sufficient time had been given to the necessary formalities and she moved on to what she really wanted to discuss.
“I must admit, Kadent, I have been greatly disturbed by the rumors surrounding that khar you purchased. And for such a sum! I would no' have believed a word o' it had it no' come from several reliable sources. You nearly caused poor Lord Colgish heart palpitations right there on the arena floor when the Malig'ahnts conceded to your last bid.”
“Lord Colgish has palpitations over what to order for breakfast,” said an unimpressed J'Kor.
“But thirty thousand! Since when have you had such money lying around? And for something as frivolous as a khar. I thought you were saving for the new house, and is Breht no' interested in pursuing a degree in engineering?”
“As o' last Sid', aye,” he replied, unruffled. “I believe that was his latest whim.”
Lyra carried the tea to the seated pair on a large tray. She served Lady J'Kor first who took her cup and saucer without a glance and clucked at her son. “I have never known you to be so foolishly impulsive with your money, Kadent.”
“And you never will. I know what I am doing, Mother. Just consider Lyra my … latest investment.”
“Investment! I can appreciate the needs o' a man, son, but how, pray tell, do you expect sexual fulfillment to pay your bills?” The lady suddenly turned a scathing eye on him. “You are no' planning to loan her out, are you?”
Lyra's fingers froze around the cup she was about to give J'Kor.
“Loaning?” He smiled. “Mother, I assure you, the idea had no' crossed my mind—intriguing concept that it is.” His eyes burned devilishly into Lyra's as he took his cup, and the daggers she surreptitiously threw back only inspired the crinkles to deepen.
You are such a jerk. She went back to the kitchen to wash some dishes.
“But no,” he assured his mother (and Lyra). “Lyra is actually quite proficient in a number o' vocations and will be contributing to the family's well-being in many ways.”
“Kadent,” Lady J'Kor entreated, her standard conversational sternness softening a smidgen, “even if that is true, it is only on condition that you are allowed to keep her. I am afraid that Serpahn has filed a formal complaint with the Internal Affairs Committee. He is demanding punitive relief.”
Lyra clutched a dirty bowl to her stomach. Her heart almost shot out of her chest. Lord Malig'ahnt! He wants the right to choose a punishment for me!
A shade of uneasiness passed across J'Kor's features. “That is completely unnecessary. I already dispensed upon her a suitable correction for her poor judgment o' that night and Lyra, since, has proved to have learned her lesson remarkably well.”
At his turn to offer Lyra an affectionate smile—as one would, gazing upon his favorite hunting trophy—Lyra tipped her head demurely. “My lord is generous with his praise.” She even managed to produce a small blush.
“Aye,” Lady J'Kor responded, closely watching the exchange. “She alluded to the extent o' your reprimand when we met outside. However, it may no' be deemed enough.”
“No' enough?” J'Kor said. “Any objective observer from the auction will confirm that Malig'ahnt provoked the incident. Her reaction may have been impertinent, Mother, but Lyra was merely defending herself and that old Keeper. Her mistake should no' warrant such a strong ruling.”
“Well, that is what I am here to determine, and from what I heard, it was no' Serpahn who had the upper hand.”
J'Kor snorted. “So the committee is prepared to condemn a khar for defending herself too well?”
“The committee has no' yet reviewed the matter. They are awaiting my findings and recommendation. Also, her behavior in the arena is no' the only issue from that night.”
“So now we are on to what happened at the restaurant, I suppose?”
The matron's quiet sip of her tea was invitation for him to proceed.
“Lyra was being swarmed with partners on the dance floor, Mother. Everyone wanted to have their hands on her and she got overwhelmed. She tripped. Truth be told, I was grateful to Sal for confronting that last partner while I was detained. Unless I am mist
aken, it is still bad form to handle another man's khar without express permission. Is it no'?” J'Kor's tone was reminiscent of a boy speaking of a new toy.
“That is no' the interpretation o' events I heard. There are several who have since come to feel that she is a scheming, wanton flirt who gets a thrill from physical confrontation.”
To that, J'Kor laughed incredulously. “My Lyra? Honestly, Mother, that is only speculation from people who obviously get their thrills from stirring up dirt about others.” He took a breezy sip of his tea. “Just like your old crone friend, Lady Cadderwok.”
“Kadent, this is a serious matter. There is a fear that her assertive behavior, her tendencies toward disrespect, could incite a following. And it is difficult to ignore the Malig'ahnt family.”
“Serpahn is a spoiled, crooked, violent dog—meaning no disrespect to you, boy,” J'Kor added for Ahskr's benefit lying peacefully at his feet, “—who is only seeking to blame someone else for the public humiliation he brought upon himself. And as for others who might 'follow'—”
“We simply canno' ignore the demands o' one so connected,” his mother cut in sharply. “Spoiled brat or no, a fair judgment must be decided.”
“You mean fair for him.” For the first time, some authentic heat had escaped into his tone.
With years of practiced decorum, Lady J'Kor placed her cup back on her plate. “Well, I believe I have come to a good understanding o' your side o' the story. I think I should like to question the girl now.”
A few, tense seconds passed before Lyra finally heard J'Kor's reluctant summon. She wiped her hands on a towel and straightened. Okay. That was a pretty good performance on his part. Let's see if you can top it.
# # #
“Yes, my lord?”
Kade looked at Lyra. “Come here. My mother wishes to speak to you.” Blast. He had been hoping to sound convincing enough that his mother would not care to interview her directly. His beckoning arm indicated for Lyra to come next to him. He wanted her close should she get nervous and begin to falter. He gave her an extra encouraging smile as she obediently obliged.