“That,” she replied sternly, “is not the point. Now get your ass into that shower then climb into bed. I’ll ensure no one disturbs you.”
I did as ordered. And for the first time in days, the wind didn’t enter my dreams. Maybe she’d heard the unspoken threat in Ava’s voice.
I was alone when seven o’clock ticked around. The Nightwatch drew duty from six to six, and I couldn’t help but wish I was with them rather than heading off to some grand house for a celebration I had no desire to attend. I wasn’t one of them and, once the mask came off—as it inevitably would—I’d be viewed as nothing more than a curiosity. And, despite my words to Ava, I had absolutely no desire to be courted or bedded because I was different—been there, done that with Mak.
Perhaps I could sneak out after the official introductions and thank-yous were done. Celebrations here in the outer bailey wouldn’t kick off until the autumn equinox, which this year fell on Thursday—three days away. Surely that was enough time to satisfy the Rossis’ sense of appreciation?
I took a deep breath then pushed away from my bunk. If I delayed much longer, someone would be sent to fetch me. It would be better to appear a willing participant; anything else would just get the gossips going—and there was enough of that already. I gathered the bag containing enough clothes and toiletries to get me through the upcoming days, and then slipped my feet into my flats. Although shoes were frowned upon at any harvest festival, I wasn’t about to stride across the grime of both the stairs and the bailey barefoot. I doubted there’d be a footbath in the carriage.
With the mask dangling from one hand, I headed out. The wind stirred around me, as cold and uneasy as I felt. But she wasn’t talking to me, wasn’t telling me what she feared. Maybe she didn’t know. Or maybe she was merely amplifying the doubts and fears that were already mine.
Those doubts and fears increased greatly when I discovered it wasn’t only the carriage waiting for me, but Trey Stone himself.
I stopped abruptly. “Why are you here, Commander?”
He was wearing a loose, dark green shirt that was as sheer as my dress and allowed teasing glimpses of the lean but muscular body underneath. His trousers were the same color but made of a thicker material that hugged his legs from thighs to knees before falling loosely to his bare brown feet. There was a green silk belt around his waist, but it ended in a knot of lavender the same color as my dress.
“I told you I’d be here at seven.” His gaze skimmed me, and appreciation stirred through his eyes. “That dress is rather becoming on you, March.”
“You said the carriage would be here. There was no mention that you’d be with it.” I hesitated, knowing I sounded rather ungrateful. “But thank you for the gift, although you shouldn’t have done it. It has set too many tongues a-wagging.”
“Good, because that was part of the intent.” He held out one hand. “Come along, I won’t bite.”
I forced my feet down the rest of the stairs and somewhat reluctantly accepted his help into the carriage. His skin, like mine, was slightly rough, and yet it in no way felt unpleasant. There was great strength in those hands, just as, I suspected, there was great strength in the man.
The carriage was specifically designed for two people, with one seat on each side of it. I took the one facing the driver so that I might see the grand houses as they approached, then kicked off my shoes and tucked them into my bag. The commander climbed into the other seat, then reached back and knocked on the carriage wall separating us from the driver.
“We’re good, thanks, Bernie.”
The carriage moved forward smoothly, her engines emitting little more than a soft purr. I resisted the urge to cross my arms and tried to relax into the seat. But it was a hard thing to achieve when that nebulous, earthy energy was stirring between us once again.
“Why are you here, Commander? What game are you playing?”
His smile teased the corners of his bright eyes. They looked almost emerald in this light—rich, warm, and friendly. But there was also a tension in him, one that spoke of a warrior ready for battle. Not against me, although I rather suspected I would play some part in it.
“Oh, there are plenty of games afoot, but I’m certainly not involved in them thus far.” He pressed a button to his left and a door slid aside, revealing an ornate green flask and several glasses. “Drink?”
I shook my head. The way my stomach was currently churning, I’d probably bring it right back up.
“I gather you now have every intention of getting involved.”
“Yes.” He poured himself a drink then contemplated me over the top of the glass. “And I want you to help me.”
“Commander, I’m unlit and out of place amongst your kind. I could never—”
“Could never what? Have fun? Enjoy yourself?”
I smiled wryly. “I’m thinking that’s not the sort of help you’re wanting.”
“In part, it is.” He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “As an unlit, you have no allegiances, no enemies, and no stake in whatever is happening. You’ll see things I never will, by virtue of the fact that you’re untainted and untouched by everything that is the twelve houses. I need that if we are to stop whatever is coming.”
The wind stirred past me, telling me to listen, to help. I frowned. “What do you think might be coming?”
“War. But not, perhaps, the type we have been expecting for nigh on five hundred years.” A hint of anger crept into his voice. “Those Adlin did not learn to make the beacons or trebuchets by themselves.”
I sucked in a breath. “Surely you don’t think someone from the twelve houses is working with them?”
“Right now, I’m unsure what to think. But something is going on; there’ve been too many troubling incidents of late. Someone needs to investigate whether they stem merely from courtly machinations, or something far more dangerous.”
“Why has the job fallen to you? Is it because of your position at Blacklake?”
Another smile teased his lips, but one that held a bitter edge. “For the most part, yes. But I’m not here in any official capacity. I haven’t spoken to anyone at the Forum, and only my father knows the true depth of my fears.”
“And what does he think?”
Something close to pain stirred through his expression. “He thinks me a fool. But then, that is an opinion he’s long held.”
While it was not unusual for a son to fall out with his father, it appeared there was something deeper than a mere difference of opinion behind this particular event.
I glanced outside for a moment, noting we’d already moved through the inner gatehouse and were slowly making our way up the wide but twisting road that led up to the plateau of the ruling houses. The accommodation in this lowest section was mainly multilevel terraced housing, and was little bigger than the bunkhouse I lived in. For the most part, it contained those freemen who served but weren’t bound to any of the ruling houses—blacksmiths, weavers and millinery folk, carpenters, even ladies and men of ease. Interspersed with these houses were the workplaces for the various crafts. As we moved farther up the hill, we’d come to the homes of those with personal magic—the healers, illusionists, the bards, and the danseuse. Only once we’d gone through a secondary gate that was more decorative than defensive would we reach the estates of the lower ruling houses and the plateau.
I reluctantly returned my gaze to his. “Is that why the firstborn son of a ruling house has accepted a position at an outpost rather than taking his rightful position at the Forum?”
A smile ghosted his lips. “You’ve been checking up on me.”
“The minute this dress arrived. But it’s not like anyone within the Nightwatch was able to tell me much.”
“Quite rightly, I would think.”
“And in that statement lies the arrogance of a ruling house.”
His smile grew. “And that propensity to not hold back is the very reason I wish your help.”