“They’re my horses,” protested Dualayn.
“Keep packing,” Avena hissed. She studied her former promised. They couldn’t let Smiles come. They couldn’t trust him. Which meant they couldn’t let any of the guards come along with them, but Miguil . . . “Of course you can come, Miguil. Thank you. I know you’ll take care of the horses.”
“Then it’s set,” Smiles said.
“You’re not coming,” Ōbhin said. “None of the guards are. There are still riots in the city. For now, the cooks and maids will be living here. They need watching over. Especially your wife, Smiles. She’s pregnant.”
The thing pretending to be Smiles gave a sheepish grin. “You’re right. Sorry, Jilly, my love, I got a bit carried away.”
“You do that,” Jilly said, a fondness in her tone. “It’s one of your redeemin’ qualities. But we’ll be fine. Go ’n help them.”
“No, Ōbhin’s right.” Avena glanced at Smiles. “Who’s going to cause us problems? Ōbhin’s more than capable of protecting me.”
“True,” Fingers muttered. “Still . . .”
“No,” Ōbhin said. “You accepted coin and contract. You work for Dualayn. And he put me in charge of you. You stay here.”
“Fine,” Cerdyn grunted. “We’ll stay.”
“But . . .” Bran said, his eagerness fading from his face. “We can be helpful.”
“Would anyone care for my opinion on the matter?” Dualayn muttered.
“Not one bit,” Fingers grunted. He looked Ōbhin up and down. “Fine. No arguin’.”
“But,” Bran said again. He quivered. “They’ll need our help. They’re goin’ to dangerous ruins and—”
“The front gate’s unguarded,” Fingers cut in. “Return to your post, boy. If you make me march over there, I’ll grab you by the scruff of your neck and drag you like a pup.”
“Fine.” The youth slouched off.
“We’ll pack food and supplies, Avena,” said Hajina. “Kaylin got it in her head to cook up a feast.” A sad expression entered her face. “She won’t know what to do with herself away from here.” Then her face tightened and she spat on Dualayn as he stuffed the last of his clothes into the travel chest. The cooks whirled and marched into the east wing.
“I’d like to leave tonight,” Ōbhin said to Miguil. “Could you hitch the horses to the wagon?”
“Tonight?” Dualayn protested. “But we’ll only get a few . . .”
His words trailed off as Avena glared down at him.
“Sorry, sorry, forgot.” He rose. “I’ll go write those letters.”
Avena gave a satisfied nod.
*
They wouldn’t get far, but Ōbhin wanted to be away from the mansion. It no longer felt like a home. Discovering the horrors in Dualayn’s basement laboratory had broken the place. Despite the warmth lingering as the sun lowered to the western horizon, a chill seemed to gust out of the house. Like a last, wheezing gasp of something dying.
Ōbhin thought he’d found a place to protect. To belong. Where he could walk a path that would lead him from the misty darkness of his crimes of two years ago. But it wasn’t ever this place.
It was her.
Avena.
He glanced at her sitting on the wagon bench beside Miguil. She wore her hair in those two tails, looking adorable. He found himself smiling, admiring the porcelain white of her pale neck, its graceful curve vanishing into the neckline of her airy dress. She wore a light blue one with no petticoats.
Excitement rippled through him from the kiss. The same giddy delight he’d experienced in those days after first making love to Foonauri. That freshness of new romance. He wanted to keep kissing Avena, to find a quiet place and share something majestic with her.
But he couldn’t do that here. Not where she’d been so thoroughly betrayed by her mentor. His gaze slid to the sulking, portly man sitting by his traveling trunk in the wagon bed with Ōbhin. He held his primer for the Recorder in one hand with his journal spread open on his lap.
Miguil drove the team towards the open gates where a sullen Bran and cheerful Smiles awaited. Ōbhin slipped onto the edge rim of the wagon bed, the narrow board digging into his backside, and studied the thing masquerading as Smiles.
“We’ll hold down things here, don’t you worry,” said Smiles. “Me ’n Jilly will make sure you ’n Avena got someplace to go once you return.”
Ōbhin nodded, coldness swelling inside of him. The thing was here to guard Dualayn, and yet hardly gave any resistance to coming along. It had pretended to be the devoted husband. To be Smiles. The real one wouldn’t have abandoned his wife.
“I know you will,” he said, almost wanting to believe that the real Smiles wasn’t dead. It was so easy to slip into that delusion. “Take care of your wife and the others.”
Smiles grinned back in his friendly, relaxed manner. Ōbhin fought back the pain.
“You sure I can’t come?” Bran asked. “I get not bringin’ Dajouth, but I’m not annoyin’ like he is. Am I, Avena?”
“No, no,” she said. “But you need to watch out for your mother and the others. Be strong. Maybe you’ll impress Hajina.”
His back straightened. “Really? Has she ever said anything about me?”
“Maybe,” Avena said in a coy way. “We’ll return as soon as we can.”
Ōbhin glanced at another travel chest, this one bound tight in iron chains and secured with an amethyst jewelchine lock. In a swaddle of soft sheets and pillows rested her brain. If anything happened to that box . . .
We’ll fix you, Ōbhin thought. Lausi, let the winds sing to us with your Swift Tone and guide us to the answer we
