“He has men watching the house.”
“How did he know where we would travel?” Her eyes shone, catching crimson highlights.
Ōbhin sighed. “I guess it won’t hurt to look. Let me put my pants on.”
“Right.” The red in her cheeks intensified. “Sorry.”
He closed the door and sighed. He remembered the night Lady Foonauri had knocked on his door. She’d removed her mask the moment he’d opened it, allowing him to gaze upon the features of her light brown face. Her delicate nose, narrow eyebrows, full lips.
Fire burning in his loins, he found a pair of trousers and slammed his legs into them. He didn’t bother tucking in his shirt, just wrapping his sword belt about it. He jammed his feet into his boots and tied them with haste. Last, he grabbed his gloves and covered his hands with proper modesty.
Something Avena and every other woman could learn. It baffled him sometimes how Lothonian women hid their breasts with the same protectiveness a Qothian took with her face.
“Come on,” she hissed. He heard her bouncing on her heels.
He rushed down through the hallway to the main doors of the house. They disabled the alarm before rushing to the postern gate. He didn’t see any sign of Cerdyn, who would be patrolling the grounds, but it was a big lawn. He could be on the other side of the house.
He better be, Ōbhin thought darkly.
“How long has Pharon worked here?” Ōbhin asked.
“A year and a half,” Avena answered. “Maybe closer to two years. He replaced the cook’s husband after he fell and cracked his head open. Why?”
“People commit betrayal for good reasons,” Ōbhin said. “That’s all. A year and a half . . . Has he ever given you a reason to mistrust him?”
“Not really,” she said. “He doesn’t talk much to me. I think he resents me. I’m a maid, but I’m also Dualayn’s assistant. I bypass Pharon.”
“No money problems. Gambling? Does he have a sick mother?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Well, he wasn’t planted here by Ust.”
“Like one of your guards could be.”
Ōbhin grimaced. “Maybe. Smiles vouches for Aduan, but the other two need watching.”
“Cerdyn’s nowhere to be found,” Avena pointed out. “How fortuitous for Pharon.”
Ōbhin agreed.
They reached the gate, Avena opening it and racing through the moonlight. The red painted the trees ahead in strange lights. He rested his hand on the pommel as she vanished into the shadows of the path.
He followed, tension mounting in his heart. Beneath the trees, the world grew darker. He could hardly see anything. Avena was ahead of him on the path, a darkling drifting through the night. He followed her, the gravel trail crunching beneath his boots.
Through gaps in the trees, he caught a glimpse of the glade, illuminated by what the Lothonians simply called Virtue. Firedrop had been full the night before and still blazed with fiery intensity. Figures moved. Pharon wasn’t alone.
Avena slowed and stopped. He reached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, her unbound hair whipping over his gloved hand as she looked behind her. He caught a gleam off the whites of her eyes.
“Hear that?” she whispered. “Talking.”
He frowned, straining to hear over the creak of trees. A slight breeze rustled the top of the canopy. There was something. It could be talking, but the words were indistinct. He tightened his grip on Avena’s shoulder and then slipped forward. Her hand found his. She gripped his glove as he led the way.
The whispers of conversation grew louder.
*
Avena trembled as she held Ōbhin’s gloved hand. She imagined dark dealings in the grove beyond. The voices were definitely both male. It had to be Pharon meeting with Ust, selling out Dualayn’s secrets. She knew the bandit captain wanted vengeance. Petty men couldn’t stand to be slighted.
Is that why you stole poor Carstin’s body?
She despised Ust. She hoped he was there. They could capture them both, unmask Pharon’s villainy, and remove Ust from being a threat. The tension mounted as they approached the grove. The sounds of talking grew louder. They were masculine. Deep. They sounded like grunts. Heavy breathing.
Her brow furrowed. Are they fighting?
She heard a moan, like a man had been hit hard. She peered ahead and saw two men grappling. They were in the middle of the glade. One was shirtless, the moonlight painting off the flexing muscles of his back.
Ōbhin halted.
“What?” she hissed, staring at the men. They were locked in a fierce embrace, battling each other. She could see hands running up the naked back, fingernails clenching. The men turned and . . .
Her jaw dropped.
Scarlet burned across her cheeks as she saw the men were kissing. Pharon still wore his undershirt while his hands stroked the muscular man’s back. Her stomach twisted in shock at their sinful behavior. She clutched tight to Ōbhin’s gloved hand, disbelief rippling through her.
Then she saw who Pharon was with. It punched her in the guts. Her promised kissed Pharon with more passion then he’d ever shown her. The forest glade suddenly spun around her. She held tight to Ōbhin to keep from stumbling off the path into a tree.
Her promised, the man she loved, betrayed her with Pharon? She wanted to sick-up. She leaned over, her heart screaming in her chest. She wanted to look away, but the scene burned into her mind. She had to march in there and demand answers.
Why was this happening?
Had Pharon forced her poor Miguil out here?
That had to be it. Her promised couldn’t be willingly kissing another man. He should be kissing me!
She took a step forward when a
