He crossed the comfortable, cluttered study, his blue eyes alight, and leaned over the chair to kiss me. Miraculously, the headache had abated by the time his mouth pulled away from mine. “At least there is an antidote,” he murmured. “Think of the maying bonfire we could build of all this.”
“Hm.” My hand crept up to slide behind his nape, his shorn hair growing out fast. “Give me the antidote again, m’cher, and we shall see. The maying is a whole winter away.”
“Always so bound by propriety—”
But I had pulled his mouth back down to mine, and the world once again stopped its course.
Until there was a knock at the door.
I groaned, and Tristan sighed. “Probably someone sent to fetch you to dinner. Mére says she hardly sees you.” He kissed my forehead, stroked my cheek, and strode to the door as I pulled myself upright, smoothing back a strand of hair that had come loose from my braids. Twas such a relief to be able to dress my hair properly again; the braids in the style of di Rocacheil suited me.
Tristan pulled the door open.
Alerted by the sudden silence, I took two steps forward, enough to see Adrien di Cinfiliet enter as Tristan stood aside. He had bathed, and his rough-trimmed hair was not quite so shaggy. His gaze swept the room and lighted on me, and again my throat sought to close.
“Adrien.” I sounded breathless. “Yes. I beg your pardon for the door; we just finished a very disagreeable meeting.”
His sudden smile did wonders for his lean face, and I saw another resemblance there. It gave me pause, my brain suddenly making a connection it had been struggling with for months.
He did not merely look of Risaine’s family. He looked so much like her it took the breath away, especially when his entire face shone with that smile. He also looked very much like a certain hawknosed, gray-ringleted, now-dead man — though that man would not have suffered the weather to darken his skin so.
Well, of course. And I am a silly little fool not to have seen it sooner, though I did suspect. Relief and fresh shame rose in my chest, and I smoothed my skirts with my hands. “Tristan, an it please you, attend your mother. Convey my regrets for my lateness. Tell her I shall be along to dine with her as soon as I may, but not to wait on my account.”
Tristan paused, his eyes darkening, and his gaze snapped to Adrien. Who calmly returned his glance, with no trace of the smile he had worn just a moment ago.
I opened my mouth to explain—I owe this man an apology, and I would give it privately—but Tristan nodded curtly, one hand on his swordhilt. “As you will it, Vianne.” The faint emphasis on my name sounded so intimate I could have blushed, were I not so suddenly puzzled. “I shall wait for you. Sieur.” He gave di Cinfiliet a short nod and was gone, sweeping the door to with a leashed, precise little click.
What was that? Did I not know better, I would think him jealous. The notion was driven out of my head by Adrien’s sigh as he dropped into a chair. “Your pardon, my lady Riddlesharp, but I am weary to the bone.” His tone was light enough, but the glint in his eye gave me pause.
“It is no matter.” I gathered my courage, my hands clasping before me. “Sieur…” It sounded bloodless, so I began again. “Adrien. I would beg your pardon. I am sorry for your loss.”
Beyond the casements, the Sun sank red in the sky, painting half di Cinfiliet’s face with the glow. “You mean Risaine.” His gaze focused past me, sightless, to the shelves of books and the two swords hanging crossed over the mantel. “Yours was not the hand that performed that deed. Though I…I thank you, for your concern.”
His throat sounded as full as mine. I looked at the scattered paper on the top of the long table we had used this afternoon. An empty winecup from the afternoon’s meeting pointed its blind bowl at me. “Had we not sheltered so long with you, it might not have happened. I…I should have insisted we leave.” There, I have said it.
Leather creaked as he moved, and he sighed. “You have enough to carry, d’mselle. Do not carry this. The fault is mine. I should have sent her south a half-year ago; there is an estate in Navarrin that would have welcomed her. In truth, I did not because I could not bear to be without her. She is—was—all my family.”
I felt his gaze on me, and lifted my own. One of his eyebrows had lifted slightly, and his mouth was a grimace of bitter pain. Oddly enough, the resemblance to King Henri was more marked when his features turned themselves graven, despite my never having seen the King bear such an expression.
I took my courage in both hands. “Not all your family. We share some blood, you and I.”
“So you’ve guessed.”
“I have.” And this is welcome news to me, in more ways than one. You cannot imagine how welcome. “I am proud to claim you as kin, Adrien. It will not balance out the wrong done you, but—”
“I will balance those scales soon enough, and in my own way.” He pushed himself to his feet, restlessly. “Di Narborre will feel my steel in his gullet before this matter reaches its end. Tis not what I meant to speak of, though.”
He strode to the window as my heart eased its frantic thumping. “Oh.” I sounded blank. “I must confess, I have thought of little else all day. Of the wrong done you and my part in it.”
“You had no part in that wrong. Do not seek to take any.” He made a slight dismissive movement, halting at the casement. With the bloody light behind him, his hair took on russet tones. “My offer still stands, m’cousine. If I may be so bold.”
Tears sprang hot to my eyes, prickling. “You may.” I cast about for a kerchief, found none, and wondered if I could clear my nose on a dispatch. It would certainly express my sentiment toward such things. “You may, m’cousin. I think together we shall deal extremely well.”
“Perhaps. If we may trust each other. I am a backwoods bandit, and you a noble lady.”
I rubbed my hands together briskly. “I think we may trust each other as far as kin, Adrien — and we are kin in a very particular way. D’Orlaans is no longer the only alternative for Arquitaine.” The immensity of my own forthrightness almost shocked me. “You would hardly be half as intelligent as I suspect you to be, had you not already thought of this.” In other words, if you harbor an ambition, be plain with it. Gods willing, the Aryx may see you as far more fit than me.
If it caught him off his guard, he did not show it. “That gaud at your neck does not concern me. If I wanted more, I would have it. I would have braved the Citté and done it as a nobleman. It suited me to stay in the Shirlstrienne, my lady Riddlesharp, and while we are kin — and I glad of it, I would add — I would not wish the burden of that thing.” His lip curled, but only briefly. “Besides, as your Captain pointed out, if that bit of sorcery-soaked metal sought my company, twould have had it and to spare by now.”
So, Tristan has discussed this with you. Interesting. What else have you said to each other, the Captain and the bandit? Silence filled the room, though the papers on the table stirred uneasily under a wind from nowhere. I found myself clutching the Aryx, digging my fingernails under it, but the obstinate thing refused to budge. Even with Adrien in the room, it would not loose its grip on me. It seemed fused to my dress instead of my flesh, and the uncomfortable idea that if I tore at the fabric the Seal would merely take advantage of it to sink into my skin was enough to make me queasy.