Echo in Onyx Page 12

  “I won’t like you very much if you insist on keeping things from me.”

  He laid his free hand over mine where it rested on his arm, and gave it a tight squeeze. “But how could I tell you? What if Cormac had determined there was no chance he and Marguerite would suit, so he decided not to invite her to Camarria after all? What if she had decided to take someone else with her—a different maid, more experienced than you? Why would I get your hopes up just to see them dashed? I hoped you would be coming to the city, but I didn’t know for certain.”

  That was the problem with Nico, as I was starting to learn. Anytime you accused him of something, he had very reasonable answers to explain away his bad behavior. “You could at least pretend to apologize, even if you don’t mean it,” I informed him.

  “Then I am sorry. Very sorry, especially if it ruins our last evening together here in Oberton! Because it will be three weeks before we are all in Camarria again, and that seems like a very long time for you to be angry with me.”

  “Well, I won’t be angry if you find me something to eat,” I decided. “I just walked out of the kitchen without looking anyone in the eyes, and I’m starving.”

  “I can find you food,” he said, guiding me down a narrow side street.

  I glanced back over my shoulder. The governor’s mansion was the largest building in this section of town, and its big, rectangular bulk was coming to life as candlelight flared from half the rooms on every level. “I can’t go far,” I said. “She might need me.”

  “We’ll buy food and bring it back,” Nico promised.

  We visited three nearby specialty shops that probably did a brisk business catering to the wealthy folks who frequented the mansion. One sold cheeses and fine breads, another wines and the raw fruits that made them, and a third sold pastries and exotic sweets. We loaded up with what was bidding fair to be the most decadent meal I had ever had, though I wouldn’t have placed any bets on Nico, and headed back toward the mansion. There was a small square of parkland just a stone’s throw from the back entrance—not much more than a carpet of grass, three trees, and a doleful fountain, but it served as greenery on the days any of the servants missed their rural roots. If, by some chance, Marguerite needed me during the course of the meal, any of the servants would know to step out the back door and look for me there.

  Nico and I made our way to the park and settled right on the ground, our feet pointing toward the mansion and our backs against the stone of the fountain. Both the grass and the rock were pleasantly warm from the heat of the day, but the whole place was overhung with shadow—and, even better, deserted except for us.

  We didn’t have glasses or utensils, so we ate with our fingers and drank from the bottle. “To Camarria, and the old friends we might meet there!” Nico toasted me before handing me the wine.

  I smiled and toasted back, “To Oberton, where those friendships began.”

  “How soon can you leave?” he asked. “How quickly can you arrive in Camarria?”

  “You just said it would be three weeks before we were all in Camarria!” I exclaimed. “Doesn’t the prince have other stops to make upon the road?”

  “He does,” Nico said, squirming a little to situate his back more comfortably against the fountain. “We’re going to Alberta next, but I don’t think we’ll linger. He hates the young woman we’ll be visiting next. Lady Elyssa.”

  “If he hates her, why visit her at all?”

  He toasted me with the wine bottle again. “Because the king is trying to mend relations with all the western provinces, of course. There is much talk that there will be a marriage arranged between Elyssa and Prince Jordan, so I’m certain she, too, will be invited to the royal city.”

  “It sounds like it will be a very pleasant gathering,” I said dryly.

  Nico laughed. “Well, I do think it will be, for some of the invited guests. Cormac is also bringing in a handful of wealthy and eligible young men from the seven provinces, so there will be many opportunities for flirtation and romance. Cormac said he expects half the visitors will be betrothed before the year’s end. Jamison said, ‘No, there will be a crop of bastards by next spring.’”

  “The more I hear about Lord Jamison, the less I like him.”

  “That puts you with the majority. But the king loves him, so don’t be surprised to see him often when you’re at the royal court.”

  “All right, but we don’t have to talk about him any more tonight! Tell me who else might be in Camarria when we arrive.”

  So he offered names I didn’t recognize, and I imagined them all dressed in lace-edged silk and trailed by echoes. He told me more about Camarria, its shops and markets and high bridges, and promised he would take me to visit its famous gardens. He said that the royal palace was so large that all of the visitors, and their echoes, would be given rooms within it, so that we would never be more than a few steps away from the next dinner, the next dance.

  “Do you have rooms at the palace as well?” I asked in a low voice. We were by this time sitting very close, and various points of our bodies were touching—our shoulders, our hips, our knees, and our ankles. As soon as we finished our meal, he took my hands in his, and we alternately laced our fingers together and pulled our hands free. When I flattened my palm against his, I could see our hands were about the same size from heel to fingertip, but I was fascinated by how very differently they were shaped. I had long, quick fingers, thin and nimble; his were thick and broad, powerful, built for heavy work. I wondered how they would feel on my body, and then I blushed in the dark.

  “I do have rooms at the palace,” he answered, his voice as soft as mine. “So you will never be more than a few steps away from me, either.”

  “Well, I imagine you are often busy,” I demurred. “Investigating situations for the king. You’re probably gone a lot.”

  “True, but I always return. I don’t think you’ll have trouble finding me.”

  “If I’m ever looking for you.”

  “If you ever are,” he said and leaned in and kissed me.

  I kissed him back, straining up to meet his mouth and feeling my whole body flush with heat. He dropped my hands so he could wrap his arms around me, drawing me closer. Pulling my hips against his, he tightened his grip and rolled us so that I was lying with my back on the ground and he was above me, his mouth still on mine. I lifted my hands to the back of his neck, slipped my fingers beneath the collar of his shirt, felt the bunched muscles along the tops of his shoulders. His skin was warm and a little rough, and I splayed my fingers wide so I could feel as much of it as possible.

  He made a grunt of satisfaction and freed one hand so he could run it the length of my body, from my thigh, up the curve of my hip bone, along my ribs. I caught his hand before he could do more than cup my left breast through the fabric of my dress. “Not yet and not here,” I said breathlessly. “I’m not quite so wanton as all that.”

  “I suppose you need four walls and a bed,” he said, sounding more amused than disappointed. I doubted he had expected me to allow more than a passionate embrace or two, though he wouldn’t have minded more. “Women are just too civilized.”

  I kissed him quickly then pulled myself out of his arms, sitting up again so I could pat my hair and clothes into place. “I certainly need more privacy than I’d find outdoors in a park, not a hundred yards from where I work!” I exclaimed. “If you really hope to see me in Camarria, you’d better not do anything to get me sacked in Oberton.”

  “Excellent point,” he said, flicking my nose with his finger, then bending down to kiss the spot his finger had touched. “Do you suppose you’ll be fired if we just sit here, chastely embraced?”

  He slipped one arm around me and I snuggled against him. “Well, Constance would probably want to send me packing, but I think Marguerite would give me another chance.” Marguerite knew all about the allure of an illicit romance.

  He rested his cheek on top of my head and reached for my hand with his fre
e one. “So is she looking forward to the visit as much as you are?”

  I didn’t plan to gossip about Marguerite with the inquisitor’s apprentice, so I answered cautiously, “She is quite pleased to be invited, but she realizes there is a great deal at stake, so she doesn’t see it simply as the adventure I do.”

  Nico interpreted this with no trouble. “She realizes the king wants to improve relations with Orenza, so she could very well end up married to the prince.”

  “Which, of course, would be a great honor,” I said, still speaking carefully, “but also a great responsibility.”

  “And a great sacrifice—if she doesn’t fancy Cormac.”

  “I have no reason to think she doesn’t like him.”

  “But does she like him enough to marry him?”

  “Well,” I said, perhaps more candidly than I should have, “I’m sure Marguerite expects her father to marry off to someone who will bring some advantage to Orenza. It might as well be Cormac.”

  “Even if she has another preference?” he asked. “Even if she’d rather marry whoever she’s been meeting in secret at the temple?”

  It was a moment before I registered what he’d just said. Then my whole body turned to ice and stone. Slowly, stiffly, I sat up, shook off his arm, and withdrew my hand from his. There was just enough light coming from nearby buildings that he could see the cold rage on my face.

  “Brianna,” he said, reaching for my hand again.

  I hit him once, hard, in the chest. He caught my wrist before I could hit him again. “Brianna,” he said a little louder.

  “You’ve been spying on her,” I said.

  “It’s what I do.”

  I broke free of his hold and scrambled to my feet. He jumped up and grabbed my arm before I could take a step. “You don’t have to answer me,” he began.

  I wrenched away and shoved him in the stomach. I knew I couldn’t win a physical fight with him, and that I probably shouldn’t provoke him, but I was too angry to think clearly. But part of me was certain—even now—that he would never strike me back. At any rate, he didn’t.

  “I’m not going to answer you,” I said furiously. “I’m not going to tell you anything. I’m not going to speak to you ever again!”

  I whirled to leave, but he grabbed my arm again and this time he held on. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said, “but you should know—”

  “I should know better than to fall for the king’s sneaky inquisitor!” I cried. “You used me to find out about Marguerite! You tricked me and lied to me and pretended to like me—”

  His fingers tightened on my arm. “I wasn’t pretending.”

  “It wasn’t even an accident that we met, was it?” I demanded. “You must have followed me that day. You were looking for a way to ingratiate yourself—”

  “I did follow you, but I had no plans to introduce myself,” he said, his voice rising a little as he started getting angry as well. “If you hadn’t found yourself in trouble—”

  “Which I got out of, not needing any help from you!”

  “—I wouldn’t have stopped. You never would have known that I was watching you. If you hadn’t had that encounter on the road, I never would have bothered to speak to you.”

  “I wish you hadn’t!”

  There was a moment of silence between us. “Don’t say that,” he said quietly. “I know you don’t think you can trust me. I know you think I’m being insincere—but I’ve enjoyed these hours with you so much. More than anything I can remember, really.”

  I jerked at my arm and this time he let me go. Once again I smoothed down my hair and my skirts, once again I gave him a look of pure venom, and then I began striding rapidly back toward the mansion. He quickly caught up and loped along beside me.

  “You don’t want to hear anything I have to say, but you better hear this,” he said. “I don’t know who Marguerite is meeting. I don’t know what she’s doing. But whatever it is, she needs to be careful.”

  I frowned in his direction but didn’t slow my pace. “I didn’t tell anyone what I saw,” he went on. “And I won’t. But I’m not the only inquisitor in the Seven Jewels. I never saw any of Del Morson’s men nearby when I was following Marguerite, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t there. And if Prince Cormac decides he wants her for his bride, the scrutiny will be that much more intense. Once she’s in Camarria—”

  I stopped so hard he slammed into me, and it took us a moment of clutching at each other before we could regain our balance. Once we had, he immediately released me. “Nothing will happen in Camarria,” I said. “Whoever he is, he won’t be there.”

  Nico watched me in the dark. “How can you be so sure?”

  I stared back at him. I couldn’t be, of course. Even if her lover was married, even if he was an impoverished but handsome young street performer without a coin to his name, that didn’t mean he couldn’t show up in the royal city to trouble Marguerite’s days. “Because it’s too risky,” I answered at last, then turned away and continued on toward the mansion. By now I was half-running, but Nico maintained an easy jog to keep up.

  “It’s risky for you, too,” he said stubbornly.

  I rolled my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “If you’re aiding her. If she’s doing something dangerous. If she gets caught, she won’t be the only one swept up in the net. You might say you don’t know anything, but who will believe you? I bet Del Morson could ask a lot of uncomfortable questions, and he’d keep asking until he broke you.”

  I’m not afraid of Del Morson, I wanted to say, but it wasn’t true and Nico would know it. I had never been so furious in my life—no, not even when Robbie returned to the village with his pregnant wife on his arm—but I was also sick with fear. Nico was right; he wasn’t the only inquisitor in town. Del Morson was more likely to be focused on the governor’s enemies than his family members, but a man who’d gotten in the habit of curiosity could decide to wonder about anybody. Who knew what he might suspect? One thing seemed certain, though. If he was aware of Marguerite’s questionable activities, he hadn’t told Lady Dorothea. I couldn’t even imagine the fit of rage she would have thrown if she thought Marguerite was jeopardizing her chance to marry the prince.

  We were almost at the servants’ entrance when Nico spoke again. “One more thing.”

  I didn’t answer and I didn’t stop, so he caught my arm again and pulled me to a halt. “I’m done talking to you,” I snapped, but he didn’t let go.

  “One more thing,” he repeated. “I’m not the only inquisitor in Camarria, either. My uncle must have a dozen men who report to him. You might look around and think no one’s following you because you don’t see me, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe.”

  “I’ve already told you, nothing’s going to happen in Camarria.”

  He watched me a moment in the patchy light. “I want to see you when you’re there,” he said after a moment.

  I yanked my arm free and loosed an exclamation of disbelief. “I don’t think so!”

  Now his face was starting to look stormy. “I didn’t have to tell you,” he pointed out. “I didn’t have to let you know I was watching you. I chose to do it. I chose to warn you.”

  I was even angrier now. “You didn’t tell me to warn me! You thought I would betray her! You thought I would tell you who she’s seeing!”

  “That’s not why I said it!”

  I came a step closer, though I managed to resist my urge to punch him again. “You thought all you had to do was kiss me and I would whisper secrets about Marguerite,” I hissed. “You thought I would pick you over her.”

  “I picked you over Cormac,” he shot back. “I told you what I haven’t told him.”

  I stuck my face right up in his and said in an evil whisper, “You haven’t told him yet.”

  Now he grabbed both of my shoulders with a grip so tight I figured he was calling on all his willpower to resist shaking me until my eyes fell out of my head. “I
won’t,” he ground out. “And I won’t pressure you by pretending I might tell him. But you have to listen to me, Brianna. The minute Marguerite is engaged to Cormac, she will be watched from every corner. She cannot play games in Camarria.”

  “We’ll be fine in Camarria,” I said. “You can stop worrying about us.”

  “I think that won’t be possible,” he said. He bent his head and kissed me again, hard and fast. I was so surprised that, for a moment, I didn’t even fight to get free. But the minute I shoved at his chest, now as angry with myself as I was with him, he let me go.

  “I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he said in a somber voice.

  The only retorts I could think of were childish and untrue, so I merely glared at him a moment and then ran away, pushing through the back door into the light and heat and clamor of the kitchen. I wanted nothing so much as to flee up to my room and huddle on my bed and think over all the emotional ups and downs of the evening. But the minute I stepped inside, the cook spotted me.

  “Brianna! Gorsey, girl, can you lend us a hand? The pans need cleaning and the sweets need serving and that silly girl’s gone into a fit of hysterics. If you could help—”

  Work was always the best remedy for turmoil of the heart. “I certainly can,” I said, grabbing an apron from a hook and heading for the sink. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Marguerite and I set out for Camarria two weeks later, spending the first night of our journey at the Barking Dog. It had been Marguerite’s suggestion, but I had been delighted by the notion, and I had instantly written to my mother to secure our rooms at the posting house. We were traveling in a large carriage with one coachman, two guards, and three echoes, so we were rather a numerous party for my mother’s inn, and I wanted to make sure she could accommodate us.

  “But this is utterly charming!” Marguerite said, peering out the window when the coach pulled to a halt.

  Indeed, I felt my throat swell shut as I followed her gaze and looked out at the familiar scene. The main house was built of pale gray stone softened by climbing ivy and warmed by a terra-cotta roof. In these hot days of late summer, the flowerbed was a vibrant tangle of roses and dahlias, which my mother cultivated, and enthusiastic wildflowers, which she did not. Behind the main house were the other buildings so necessary to the running of the business—the stables, the smokehouse, the storage cellar. There were living creatures in motion everywhere: my stepfather leading horses into the barn, my brothers chasing down a pig, my sisters feeding the hens that strutted and squawked out back. If someone wanted to paint a mural of a bucolic paradise, this was the place he would come with his brushes and easels.