Jerin gazed at her, wondering why she sought him out, what was so surprising about himself. He could find nothing familiar about her face, no hint that he might have known her long ago. True, the silvery line of a scar ran from the corner of her left eye down the line of her chin to the edge of her mouth. The skin lay smooth; the healing had been perfect despite the fact she had nearly lost her left eye with the wound.
The scar, thus, did not disfigure her beyond recognition.
In fact, he would not say it disfigured her at all. At one time, her face had been a harvested field under a winter sky: barren of good features, containing no bad. Plain. Neither beautiful nor ugly. It had existed.
The scar gave her plainness character, like a thick choker, or a large bold earring. It spoke to Jerin of strength and determination.
The woman had tensed when their gazes met. a look like fear going through her eyes. He had thought Raven might be the cause for her alarm, but then the woman didn’t glance to see where the captain was. or what Raven was doing. Instead her eyes widened slightly, and Jerin realized she had been somehow afraid of him, and now she wasn’t.
She stepped forward, reached out, and lifted his veil.
Time stopped.
They froze there. He half leaned out the window of the hired coach. She held the veil up with both hands. Her eyes were green, green and changing as summer wheat, one moment dark as velvet, next light as silk, with long thick dark eyelashes. Gorgeous eyes. How could he have thought her plain with such eyes?
She gasped, as if surprised, and then kissed him.
He hadn’t expected it, and sat stunned during the touch of warm lips, the fleeting exploration of her sweet cinnamon tongue, the brief touch of fingertips on his check.
Then she was gone, his veil drifting down, the calliope blasting forth into the silence that had surrounded them.
The hackney rocked, and Summer climbed in beside him. She leaned against him to look out and up at the palace on the cliff. “To think, after all these years, the Whistlers are going to be guests there.”
Chapter 8
The hackney cab jostled and swayed through town, and climbed the cliff road. At the palace gate, Raven leaned out to have them passed through. All the while, Jerin found himself pressing his hand to his mouth, feeling again and again the kiss of the stranger on his lips. What was wrong with him? Why did he let a stranger kiss him? True, he had not expected the kiss, but still, once it started, once he was aware it was happening, he should have stopped it. Was he in truth a slut, unable to resist any woman’s advances?
Certainly, prior to Ren, he never had to resist a woman; his sisters kept all comers at bay. Ren certainly hadn’t taught him anything in the way of resistance.
All this time he thought-actually, he still believed- he was in love with Ren. If he loved her, why had he let that woman kiss him? Gods above, he didn’t even know the woman’s name!
Eldest finally noticed his silence, the hand pressed to his mouth. “Are you sick?”
Sick? Well, mental illness would explain his actions. “Perhaps.”
“Should we stop and let you throw up in the gardens?” Eldest asked. “It would be better than spilling your accounts in the palace proper.”
“If he goes, I go.” Summer looked slightly green from the jostling.
“Ah, Whistlers at their finest hour.” Corelle earned a cuff from Eldest.
“I’ll be fine,” Jerin muttered, blushing. Certainly with his family pressed so close, he would be able to resist the next woman who tried to kiss him.
The cab came to a stop before the palace in a vast paved courtyard and they spilled hastily out into the fresh air. Women in the livery of the Queens unloaded the wagon as Raven paid the cab driver. The servants were of similar coloring and height, making Jerin suspect they were sisters.
“This is the Queens’ majordomo, Barnes.” Raven indicated the woman supervising the others, polished in dress, face passive, but eyes deeply curious.
“I’m at your service,” Barnes said in greeting, giving a half bow. “The Queen Mother Elder wishes to meet you immediately. I must insist, however, that no weapons be kept in the palace. Anything you surrender will be returned to you at the end of your stay.”
“There are rifles in our luggage,” Eldest stated, undoing her gun belt.
Jerin froze, unsure what to do. His mothers always stressed that he should never go unarmed among strangers.
Summer carried only the six-shooter but had three knives. Corelle wore two six-shooters and a derringer, but no knives. Eldest matched Summer with knives, Corelle for guns, and then added two pairs of brass knuckles and a wire garrote. Barnes and Raven took the weapons without comment or surprise. Jerin was amazed Eldest surrendered all her stash weapons, but apparently she judged the risk of being caught with them in the presence of the Queens too high to warrant keeping them on her.
Which probably meant he should give up his weapons. He gave Eldest a questioning look, and she nodded. Reaching into his pocket, he produced his derringer.
Barnes startled visibly. “Holy Mothers above.”
Raven raised one eyebrow and accepted it. “You know how to use this?”
Jerin nodded, blushing at the thought of taking his knife off. Eldest rescued him by kneeling at his feet, reaching under the hem of his walking robe, and undoing the shin sheath. She made no move, thankfully, to retrieve his lock picks; if she had, he would have discovered if it was possible to die of embarrassment.
Raven accepted the knife with a slight, unexpected smile.
Barnes gave Raven an unreadable look, then turned to the Whistlers. “Thank you for your cooperation.
Come this way.”
Barnes led them through a portcullis and down a graveled path to a deep porch overlooking the gardens.
Wicker chairs sat in a loose circle, facing one another. A tall stately woman sat waiting for them. She wore a green silk shirt, high-collared with long, narrow sleeves that matched her deep green eyes. A gold circlet over her short, gray-tinged red hair proclaimed her as Queen Mother Elder. Besides the green eyes and red hair, she shared her daughters’ deceivingly delicate features and fair skin.
Barnes announced them, waited until the Queen Elder dismissed her with a wave of fingers, and bowed out.
Queen Elder considered Jerin with a cock of her head and slightly pursed lips. After long minutes of study, she indicated that they should sit. A servant moved forward to pour tea, then faded into the background.
The Queen Elder addressed Eldest. “I was one of seventeen sisters. There are only five of us left. Illness, war, childbirth, and assassins have weeded us down. We had twenty daughters, which are now ten. It matters much to us that the count is not nine. We are indebted that you put a brother to risk providing aid to our daughter.”
“We merely followed the law,” Eldest said quietly, choosing to ignore the fact she hadn’t been present to consult on the matter. The law usually held the entire family responsible for one sister’s action. A family could otherwise engage in wanton lawbreaking, sacrificing one sister to save the rest if they were caught.
The inverse, Jerin decided, must be that they were held accountable for good deeds too.
“Unfortunately,” the Queen Elder said, “when it comes to men, our people tend not to be law-abiding.
Finding a stranger on their land, most women would have let their fear for their menfolk rule their actions.
In part, by rewarding you, I lift you up as an example. If we’re to stand against our neighboring nations, we cannot be fighting so between ourselves. This was why the husband raids were outlawed. This was why blood feuds are forbidden. This is why the traveler’s-aid law was created. Our people must be made to understand that their neighbors are their sisters.”
The Queen Elder sipped her tea and they sat in silence, unsure what to say.
Eldest finally cleared her throat and said into the silence, “My grandmothers were line soldiers before they
