“Hm.” My hand crept up to slide behind his nape, his shorn hair growing out fast. “Give me the antidote again,
“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.
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
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—
“It is no matter.” I gathered my courage, my hands clasping before me. “
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.”
Leather creaked as he moved, and he sighed. “You have enough to carry,
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.”
“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,
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,
“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.”
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
“You see?” Adrien sounded bitterly unsurprised. “Tis yours, and I am no di Narborre, to kill a woman. Do not insult me,
I uncramped my fingers with an effort. My throat was dry. “I mean no insult.”
He relaxed, much as a cat will suddenly sink into sleeping. “I know. Nor do I. I have not the pretty manners of your Guard.”
“Manners may cover many faults,
He caught my levity and grimaced good-naturedly. “Small compliment you pay me,
“As you like.” I wished I could lean against the table or a chair, to bolster my knees. They were decidedly unsteady.
“I do not think it safe here for you, Vianne.” Another mercurial change — his tone was deadly level, and his face had lost all trace of amusement. “D’Orlaans has been suspiciously quiet, and I hear fragments that make me