“The duke will receive you in his parlor,” the guard said. “This way, please.”
The gate creaked, and they followed him inside.
Eight
Miren
A brick pathway led into a large, circular courtyard with a stone fountain in the center, a sculpture of a robed woman pouring a never-ending stream of water. Rose bushes lined the sides of the path.
The guard led them through the courtyard to the estate itself: a sprawling building of marble and polished wood. Great pillars framed the entryway, and windows taller than Miren glimmered along the walls.
Heavy double doors gave way to an immaculate marble hall, its simplicity elegant in comparison to Darius’s desperate clutter. The guard opened a door and beckoned them into a room furnished with green and gold couches and a large matching throw rug. Miren felt out of place.
She carefully took a seat on one of the couches, its cushion dipping farther than seemed possible. Davri took a chair beside her. He was straight-backed, his hands folded in his lap as his elbows rested on the arms of the chair. His posture was clearly practiced. Miren tried to straighten her own back, but the couch refused to accommodate.
A woman wearing a green-and-white gown entered the room. Her long blond hair was neatly braided, and she carried a tray laden with a porcelain teapot and cups. She couldn’t be more than ten years older than Miren. Perhaps she was the lord’s wife, but Davri hardly looked at her as she set down the tray and began pouring tea. She silently handed a cup to each of them.
“Thank you,” Miren said.
The woman paused, then ducked her head in acknowledgment and quickly left the room, leaving the tea.
Davri signed with one hand, Shouldn’t talk to servants.
“At all?” Miren said quietly. “Not even to say ‘thank you’?”
Davri nodded. Only when you are making a request.
“That is so . . .” Miren searched for a word that properly expressed her distaste. “Entitled.”
Davri shrugged noncommittally and sipped his tea.
Miren took her cup from the saucer; it felt so delicate that she thought it might break in her hand. Faint paintings of faded roses surrounded the white porcelain, and a polished yellow rim covered the top. “Is this gold?”
Davri winced. Too loud, he warned. Yes, it’s most likely gold.
She turned the cup to see if the gold went all the way around the rim. It did. She put the teacup back in its saucer.
A few minutes later, a door opened.
Davri got to his feet, motioning for Miren to stay seated.
A man strolled into the room, his small eyes set in a serene face, his light reddish hair swept to one side, his short beard neatly trimmed around a square jaw. He wore a sleek coat of deep blue with matching trousers and polished black dress shoes.
Everything about him suggested ease. His gaze flitted between the two of them. Miren felt a flash of shame at her appearance. This must be Lord Cheliem.
He held out his hand. “Davri! How good to see you! I almost didn’t recognize you. How is your father doing? Does he still take the boat out?”
The two shook hands, which delayed Davri’s response. Thank you, Lord Cheliem, he signed. He doesn’t take the boat as much these days, but he still fishes when he can.
Miren had never once seen Darius in a boat.
“Always had far more patience than I did,” Cheliem said. “We started after that rail system when you came to my hip, and now look at you!”
Thank you, Davri signed. Father was quite looking forward to those tracks as well, but it seemed unlikely the Crown would choose to carve through that southern range.
“Yes, it was a shot in the dark.” Cheliem’s attention jumped to Miren as though he had just noticed her. “Who have you brought with you, Davri?”
Davri ducked his head and signed an apology. This is Miss Miren of Crescent Bay, from the family of lightkeepers.
Cheliem extended a hand. Miren took it, expecting to shake as Davri had, but the lord held it gently and bowed. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Miren.”
“And you, Lord Cheliem,” Miren said. “Thank you for seeing us unexpectedly.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Cheliem straightened and released her hand, then took a seat across from Davri. “Though I’m sorry you missed dinner. I take it the journey wasn’t terrible?”
“It was about as expected,” Miren said, looking to Davri. It likely wasn’t wise to tell him they came via sailboat.
Davri signed, Truthfully, we came as quickly as we could. We have an urgent matter to discuss with you.
Cheliem’s expression didn’t change as he poured a cup of tea. Miren worried for a beat that he didn’t believe Davri. Had Cheliem missed the word urgent?
Davri raised his hands to sign, but Cheliem was intent on stirring his tea. Davri folded his hands in his lap.
“I see,” Cheliem finally said, setting the spoon on the saucer.
This is not about my father’s estate, Davri signed quickly. I come with a personal request.
“Ah,” Cheliem said. “What is your request, then?”
“It is on my behalf, I’m afraid,” Miren said. Both men’s heads swiveled to her, Davri’s expression alarmed. “Davri is doing everything he can to help me find my sister. She was taken from home, you see.”
Cheliem’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“I wasn’t sure about bothering someone of your station for this, but Davri insisted that you have the . . . the connections to help.”
“Hmm.” Cheliem nodded. “Well, I might be able to do something, but I’ll need more. Who took your sister?”
Davri jumped in. Pirates. They have likely taken her for the bounty on those who avoid the draft.
“Ah. Your sister is a Singer?” Cheliem said to Miren.
“Yes, but she isn’t physically fit for service,” she said quickly. “She has difficulty breathing, and she can’t exert herself too much—”
“Well, that’s for the military recruiters to decide, I’m afraid,” Cheliem said smoothly. “Has she been exempted from service?”
Of course this man isn’t going to help us, Miren thought. These people with their titles and their sprawling estates and their army of servants and field workers would never inconvenience themselves for someone they didn’t know. Darius was the same.
Kesia Kesia Kesia.
She was ready to stand and leave right then, but the room had gone quiet because Davri was signing.
She is my betrothed.
Miren didn’t immediately understand.
Betrothed.
Betrothed.
It wasn’t true—no matter their differences, Miren knew Kesia would never make such a decision without telling her first. And, Miren decided with sudden vitriol, Kesia’s betrothed shouldn’t be him.
“Your betrothed,” Cheliem said, and the disbelief in his voice brought Miren back to attention. “Is this true?”
“It is,” Miren said, not looking at Davri, and resenting the necessity of supporting his lie. “It’s fairly recent, actually.” She forced herself to smile. “My sister didn’t want to tell me right away.”
We hadn’t yet sent out the papers, Davri added. He did not look at Miren. The bounty hunters took her by force.
“Well, that is their job, isn’t it?” Cheliem said.
Davri pressed on. Do you know anyone who can help us find her? Preferably before the Crown spends money on a bounty.
Cheliem set his tea down. “Well, this is a bit of a predicament, isn’t it?”
There was a pause, as though he genuinely expected an answer. Miren glanced at Davri, who was looking pale.
We would not be here if we could do this ourselves, Davri signed.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Cheliem said amicably.
Miren looked between the two men, not understanding. Davri shifted uncomfortably in his chair and signed, Of course, my father would be happy to com
pensate you.
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Cheliem said. “I’m sure your father and I can work something out. Perhaps direct funds to building that railway we always wanted, huh?”
Davri nodded, still looking a little sick. I’m sure we can work something out.
“Wonderful.” Cheliem pushed himself to his feet. “Well, why don’t I set you each up with a room? I will have some food brought up to you. And maybe hot water for baths?”
He looked at Miren as he spoke; her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
He rang a small bell, and the blond servant appeared in the doorway. “Please show these two to the guest quarters.”
* * *
Miren and Davri silently followed the woman back into the entrance hall, up a flight of curved stairs, and down hallways of lush red carpet and dark walls. Oil lamps flickered mutely from their sconces. An occasional window revealed a darkening sky of light purples and blues.
The woman finally stopped in front of two adjacent rooms, each with light blue walls and a large bed overflowing with soft pillows and bedcovers. Windows opened over a field of crops, now little more than an indistinct sea of shadows.
Miren looked at the servant, remembered that she shouldn’t speak to her, then decided that was a stupid rule. “Thank you,” she said.
The servant blinked at her, then nodded silently.
Miren watched her walk away and tried to remember the way back to the parlor. She wasn’t even sure where she was in relation to the front of the estate.
Davri walked into the first room and flopped on the bed. Miren stayed in the doorway, watching him.
“Was that how things were supposed to go?” Miren asked.
Davri threw his hands up in a shrug. I suppose it could have been worse.
“Is he really going to help us?”
He’ll send letters. That is all he can do.
“But you had to offer to pay him to do it?”
Davri sat up, looking dejected. I didn’t want to pull my father into it, but it was natural that Cheliem would expect some kind of compensation.
Miren didn’t understand his frustration. “Your father has money, doesn’t he?”
It will be fine. He leaned down to unlace his boots.
“You called Kesia your betrothed,” she blurted.
Davri nodded, but didn’t look up from his boots, his hands busy with the laces.
After a few seconds he signed, In order to get Kesia out, she needs to be exempted from the draft. To say we’re betrothed is the best option. Most believable.
“Most believable,” Miren echoed. “And you . . . you didn’t tell me.”
Davri furrowed his brow. It was the only way to make her eligible for the exemption.
“And after this,” she said, “after we find Kesia . . . do you . . . intend . . . is that what you’re hoping for?”
Davri frowned. What do you mean?
“You want to marry my sister.”
I do.
“Have you talked to Kesia about it?”
He jutted his jaw out in exasperation or frustration, she wasn’t sure which. No, we haven’t discussed it.
“But you want to? You want to marry her?”
Yes.
“And she wants to marry you?”
I don’t know, Davri signed slowly. We have not discussed it.
Miren nodded. Kesia had never said anything about marriage. Had she not considered it, or had she been keeping it to herself, knowing that Miren wouldn’t like it? Perhaps she had wanted to wait for their parents to return from the war before she made such a decision. Would Davri’s family even approve of the union?
Miren took a breath. “So what is your plan, then?” she demanded, more loudly than she’d intended. “Are you going to become a farmer? A fisherman? Or would Kesia come to live at your father’s estate?”
Davri looked at her sharply. I would rather not talk about this now.
“Why? These are genuine concerns—”
And I would rather talk to Kesia about it first before I discuss it with you.
Miren opened her mouth and shut it. She wished this conversation wasn’t happening. She wished she had never left Crescent Bay. She wished Kesia was here to tell her what she wanted.
She retreated to her room and closed the door.
It felt as though she was losing Kesia all over again. Davri wasn’t too young, but he was immature. Too soft. Too ignorant.
He did not deserve Kesia. Of that she was certain.
A few minutes later, someone knocked. Miren was about to yell something obscene, but she realized that it might not be Davri. Slowly she opened the door.
The blond servant stood just behind a wheeled cart that held several metallic domes.
“Dinner, miss,” the woman said.
“Oh.” Miren opened the door wider to let her in.
The cart smelled of unfamiliar spices and butter and freshly grilled fish. Miren’s stomach twisted painfully. Since Crescent Bay, she hadn’t eaten much more than a half loaf of bread, a carrot, and some jerky.
The servant brought the cart into the room and uncovered each plate: grilled salmon in a light pool of yellow sauce, a medley of cooked vegetables, sliced bread and butter, a tall glass of swirling amber liquid.
Mounds of food—Miren couldn’t fathom the amount of time it had taken to prepare so much.
“I’ll have the—the fish, please.” Hopefully Davri wouldn’t complain about getting the vegetables.
The servant woman blinked. “That is your dinner, miss.”
“This is all for me?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, miss.”
Miren stared at the plate. It was enough to feed her and Kesia for a day.
“I won’t be able to finish it,” Miren said.
“That is fine,” the woman said. “Just eat what you like.”
Miren hoped that whatever she didn’t finish would not be wasted.
“Thank you.” Miren picked up the fork—cold and polished and weighty—and held it over the fish.
The woman was still standing by the door.
Miren didn’t enjoy the prospect of being watched while she ate. “Um, you don’t have to wait there.”
The woman raised her hands. Crown’s Guard will come for Singer, she signed. Run north tonight.
Miren blinked, confused. “What?”
“Enjoy your meal, miss.” The woman bowed her head and slipped from the room.
Nine
Miren
Miren sat, frozen. By the time she thought to open the door and ask for an explanation, the hall was empty.
Crown’s Guard coming for the Singer? For Davri?
Cheliem had never intended to help, she realized. He had just wanted to keep Davri here long enough to be arrested. The Crown’s handsome bounty for a Singer was an impressive sum—even for a lord, apparently.
Miren ran to Davri’s room and wrenched open the door.
Davri sat over a cart like hers, laden with more food than any one individual could eat in a single night. Miren felt a pang of jealousy—how many times in her life had she gone to bed hungry? She couldn’t imagine knowing that there would always be food available.
Davri looked up, his expression wary.
“Davri, listen,” she said, keeping her tone even. “The servant who brought me food said that we should leave tonight.”
Davri frowned. Cheliem sent word?
“No, she was warning me. She said the Crown’s Guard are coming for you.”
Davri paused in his chewing. Crown’s Guard are coming here?
“Yes,” Miren said. “She said to escape north.”
Why would she say such a thing?
“Why would she lie?” Miren said impatiently. “We need to get out of here.”
Davri shook his head as he wiped his mouth. Cheliem will sort it out.
“Unless Cheliem invited them. What if he wants to turn you in for the bounty?”
Davri raised an ey
ebrow. Is that what the servant said?
“Why would the Crown’s Guard be coming unless Cheliem summoned them?”
Maybe someone saw me signing in town.
“Then why would the servant warn me about it?” Miren couldn’t hide her exasperation. “What if Lord Cheliem wants to collect the bounty on you?”
There is no bounty on me. Davri’s brow was pinched. I am exempt.
“But if he takes your father’s ring, you won’t be able to prove that. You would just be another Singer avoiding the draft.” Miren felt her heart begin to race as she realized how plausible it sounded. “Your father doesn’t even know we’re here.”
Davri tossed his napkin on the cart and stood. If we sneak out in the middle of the night, we will lose our chance to help Kesia. No other lord is going to help us like Cheliem is.
“And if you’re wrong and you get arrested, how will I find Kesia alone?” But she wondered briefly if she really did need Davri’s help.
Another part of her mind reminded her that Kesia cared for him.
You are being cynical, Davri signed.
“Why would Cheliem keep his word?” Miren said. “Why would he care to help?”
Because he can. Because that is his duty as a lord.
“Because you promised that your father would pay him. Maybe he knows that a bounty would pay better.”
That is not how nobility works.
Miren threw her hands up. “What does that mean? Nobles are surely as greedy as everyone else.”
Davri looked away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. I would like to finish my meal, he signed.
For some reason, Davri’s irritation had curbed Miren’s own. “Fine. Good night,” she said. She closed the door behind her and returned to her room, where the scent of butter and fresh fish awaited her. The servant had said to leave that night, but she might as well eat.
Miren tore a piece of bread from the loaf and shoved it into her mouth. Had the servant meant for them to leave as soon as it grew dark? Or later, when everyone was asleep?
She ate without tasting, though her stomach protested the rich food. Why had the woman told her this? What did she have to gain? And why specify north? Why not east, toward the docks, where they might find a boat? What did the woman know?
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