Kalen colored and Myrin giggled.
"I'm weary," the girl said. "Is it well if I sleep in your chamber again, Cele?"
"Kalen's bed's bigger," Cellica said.
Myrin flushed bright red. "I… I, ah…"
"Don't get giggly, lass," Cellica said. "I meant that he'd take the floor again." She batted her eyes at Kalen. "Won't you, Sir Shadow?"
Kalen shrugged. The ladies had shared a bed the first two nights, but after the ball-the third night-he'd given Myrin his bed. "Of course."
Myrin hesitated. "I think Kalen needs his bed. He hasn't fully recovered, you know." She bit her lip and looked at the floor.
Kalen didn't understand this at all. He just needed sleep-it mattered little where.
Cellica stared at her a long time, then smiled, as though picking up some subtle jest. "As you will-you're quite warm." The halfling shrugged. "I'll join you in about an hour. Soon as I finish." She clipped the thread with her teeth and rubbed the stitched breastplate with her delicate fingers. "Merciful gods! One would think you'd learn to dodge more blades and arrows."
"I'll remember that," Kalen said, his voice dry. His head ached and he rubbed his temple.
Myrin grinned and winked at the halfling, who winked in kind. Whatever conspiracy they had hatched, it was cemented. Myrin walked toward Cellica's room but did not let go of Kalen's hand, pulling him along. She opened the door but did not go in, nor did she release Kalen.
They lingered for a moment. Kalen looked over his shoulder, but the halfling seemed not to notice them. Myrin was digging the ball of one foot into the floor.
"We'll find her, Kalen," she said. "I know it."
He shrugged. Then, because it wasn't enough, he spoke: "Yes."
Myrin clasped one arm behind her back and looked at the floor shyly, then up at Kalen. Something unspoken passed between themsomething that neither could say.
"Good e'en," Myrin said at length, awkwardly. She went inside and closed the door.
Kalen stood blinking for a breath, then he turned to find Cellica's eyes on him. "What?"
"For a man who reads faces and listens for lies every day…" The halfling trailed off.
Kalen rubbed his temples and limped toward his room. "Good e'en," he said.
He stepped inside, shut the door, and pulled offhis doublet, which he tossed to the floor. He crossed to the basin and mirror and splashed water on his face. Vicious bruises and stitched cuts rose on his muscled frame. The deepest ached, despite his numbness.
Tough as he was, he had to admit the accumulated hurts of the last few days were taking their toll. All he wanted was to sleep until he no longer hurt.
He saw something move in the mirror and turned.
She lay in his bed, blanket pulled up to her nose. Her pale skin glittered in the candlelight and her red hair seemed almost black. Her eyes were wide and mischievous.
"Well met, Kalen," Fayne whispered. She smiled. "Coins bright?"
TWENTY-NINE
"You're here," Kalen said, and he stretched. Though he didn't expect a duel, he didn't turn his back on her and checked the dirk at his belt. He made no hasty moves, and didn't let his eyes linger on her curves under the blanket. "Cellica let you in?"
"Yes." Fayne bit her lip, her smile chased away by his cold voice. "And no. She doesn't remember I'm here. I warded us"-she nodded to the door-"against sound."
"You-" Kalen winced at the zzar ache in his head and rubbed his stubbled chin. "Are you wearing anything under that blanket?"
Slowly, Fayne lowered the blanket to reveal a thin white ribbon around her throat, from which hung a black jewel. Then she raised the sheer back to her chin.
"Ah." Kalen coughed and kept his gaze purposefully averted. Fayne rolled her eyes. She sar up and lowered the blanket to bunch around her. "This is stupid, I know, and I'm a fool to come here, but I just have to say something, Kalen. You don't ever, ever have to see me again afterward, I just have to say it."
Kalen walked near the bed but remained standing. "Then say it." Silence reigned berween them for a moment. They looked at one another.
Kalen had seen Fayne nearly naked at the temple, but that had been different. A battle, when his blood was up. Now, her skin seemed smooth and soft. She was so very vulnerable, deprived of clothing. She seemed younger and lighter-fragile.
Like Myrin.
As though she could read his thoughts and wanted-needed- to turn his mind to her, Fayne opened her mouth and the words gushed forth.
"I… oh, Kalen, I've made a terrible mistake," she said. "A woman is dead because of me-because of my pranks. And… and I wanted ro teil you that I'm sorry."
Kalen broke the gaze and looked toward the window. "Don't," he said.
Fayne's eyes welled. "Kalen, please. Please just let me say this."
She sat upright and edged closer to him. When he stepped away, she stayed on the bed, peering up at him.
"You were… you were right about me," she said with a sniffle. "I am just a silly girl who doesn't think about the hurt I cause. My entire life, all I've done is lie and ruin. I have a talent for it, and the powers to match, and that was how I made coin. All I've ever done is scandalize folk-some honest, most dishonest-for gold." She wiped her nose.
"Sometimes I did nobles and fops, sometimes people of real importance-merchants, politicians, traders, foreign dignitaries. Whatever they believed or fought for, I didn't care. I know-I was a horrible wretch, but I didn't care."
She sniffed and straightened up, looking at him levelly.
"I… I was doing the same thing with Lorien and Ilira and 1 didn't mean anyone to get hurt." She cast her eyes down. "You believe me, right? I didn't mean-"
Kalen kept his silence but closed his hand on the hilt of the dirk he wore at his belt. The dirk was a cheap, brute object without the elegance of Vindicator, but it could kill just the same. He'd spent the day searching for Fayne, but he hadn't realized that it had been equally a matter of anger as concern.
He didn't know how he felt.
"Explain why I should believe you."
"Why would I lie about this?" Fayne asked.
"I do not know-but you are lying." Kalen fished in his satchel and pulled out the folded Minstrel. He pulled it open and set it on the table. Then he drew his dirk and slammed it through her false name, pinning the broadsheet down. "Explain that," he said.
She bunched the blanket around herself, rose, and padded toward him on bare feet. "Oh, Kalen!" She flinched away from the broadsheet as though from a searing pan on a fire. "That… that creature killed my mother. I–I just wanted to cause her pain, rhat's all. But I never meant anyone to die-that was Rath's doing." ^ "How do I know you didn't hire him?"
"I'm telling you the truth!" Fayne cried. "You saw him try to kill me. He would have done so, if you hadn't come!" She sobbed. "I didn't want anyone to die."
"I don't believe you." He put his hand on the dirk-simultaneously gesturing to the broadsheet and offering a quier threat. "Why write that? You know who killed Lorien."
"I… I was upset, Kalen!" Her eyes grew wet. "You don't understand! I was there when she killed my… I saw it happen! I hate that woman, Kalen-I hate her!"
She ripped the Minstrel off the table, tearing it against his blade, balled it up, and hurled it to the floor. Her scream that followed nearly shook the room.
Kalen flinched and looked to the door, but Fayne had spoken true. Had it not been warded against sound, Cellica would have burst in.
"So why not kill her? "Kalen asked. "Why Lorien, and not Ilira?" He stepped closer to her, so he could seize her throat if he wanred.
"I don'r-I don't like people, aye," Fayne said. "I hate them. I hate everyone, especially her-bur I don't hate enough to murder. That isn't me, and… and I have to make you see that."
"Why do I matter so much?"