The Traitor's Kiss (Traitor's Trilogy #1)

*

The officers ate their midday meal in a tight circle out of view and earshot of the ladies while soldiers moved about, tending horses and passing out food. Charlie waited on the officers, holding a pitcher of water off to the side. A soldier nearby started telling a rude joke but caught the captain’s sharp glance and lowered his voice. Quinn looked back to his lieutenants. “I saw smoke. Our left picket has something to tell us.”

Casseck nodded. “Corporal Mason will be patrolling on that side. Is there anything he should tell him, sir?”

Quinn shook his head. “Not at the moment. Anyone see a signal on the right?” Three negative answers. “Keep an eye out, we should hear from him soon. Gram, how’s the road ahead?”

“Clear, sir,” Gramwell replied around his mouthful. “Manor House Darrow is ready to receive us. I told them we’d arrive in time for supper and left two men to scout around.”

Quinn nodded curtly and held up his cup for Charlie to refill with water. “Good. Anything else that needs reporting?”

Casseck cleared his throat. “How’s our mouse doing?”

“Fine, if a little uneasy. Starling asks a lot of questions.”

Casseck glanced at a nearby group of soldiers. “He didn’t look uneasy.”

Quinn sighed. “He’s just playing the part; let him do it.” He sipped his water, trying to put what wasn’t right into words. “There’s something off, though. Has anyone learned more about her?”

Robert waved his hand for attention. “Overheard some ladies talking. Lots of spite. Jealousy over Cass speaking to her earlier.” He gave Casseck a wink. “Once, they said ‘her kind,’ like she’s not ‘their kind.’ Whatever the hell that means.”

Quinn rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. “Apparently both her parents are dead. Maybe she came from a convent orphanage.”

Gramwell cleared his throat. “There’s a Broadmoor Manor and village northwest of Galarick; I passed by it coming from Reyan. Lord Broadmoor is well regarded, but I don’t know anything more.”

“Clear as mud,” grumbled Quinn, ripping apart a piece of dried beef. “Nothing truly conflicts, but nothing quite matches, either. She could be someone’s hidden bastard, a high noble girl who came down in the world when her parents died, or something else entirely.”

Across the circle, Casseck leaned back and folded his arms. “Sounds like Mouse has his work cut out for him.”





18

IN THE EVENING the group stopped at the home of Lord Darrow, the first of several estates the matchmaker had arranged to receive them. After dinner with the lord, Sage buried herself in their host’s library, recording what she’d learned that day in her ledger and reading whatever caught her interest. To her surprise, Ash Carter appeared once his duties were complete and shyly asked if he could practice writing letters. By the time she went to bed, Clare, who’d volunteered to be her roommate, was asleep, so Sage was spared dealing with her.

The second day of travel went as the first, and after another reading lesson and late night, this time in Lord Ellison’s library, Sage returned to her room to find Clare sitting in a dressing gown by the fire, her burnished curls framing her creamy face. “There you are,” she said. “I made us some tea.”

Sage eyed Clare as she dropped her ledger on the lid of her trunk. The other ladies had barely acknowledged her in two days, so the kindness must be designed to curry favor. Clare shouldn’t have worried, though; she was the most valuable match they had.

Clare held up a cup and saucer. “I was wondering if you’d be back before it got cold.”

The scent of spearmint with a hint of orange drew Sage to her side. The library had been chilly, and she couldn’t resist the promise of warmth from both hearth and tea. She sat with her legs folded beneath her on the sheepskin rug and accepted with a thank-you.

“You stayed so late,” said Clare.

No sense in being rude. “There was a book I’ve never seen before—and not likely to again.” Few households had books written in Kimisar, even harmless geology tomes. “And Private Carter came by for a reading lesson.”

He’d also frustrated her attempts to learn about the officers. Both yesterday and today, she’d tried to get him to open up by showing interest in his life, which wasn’t hard—the army was fascinating. Usually it was easy to get a man talking, but whenever the conversation wandered, he brought her back to a reading lesson. It was nice to have such a willing student, though. He especially liked to watch her write, probably because his attempts were so clumsy.

Clare shifted her silky blue robe. “Mistress Rodelle told me you tutored your cousins and also orphans in the village.” There was none of the disdain Sage expected. “She said you’re never happy unless you’re teaching or learning.”

Sage pursed her lips, uncomfortable at how close to home that statement was. “I think…” She hesitated. “I think it goes back to my father. We didn’t have a home, but we always had books he traded and borrowed. He schooled me himself.”

The thought of Father usually brought a terrible, soul-ripping emptiness, but this time there was only a dull ache. To her surprise, she almost missed the pain.

Sage changed the subject before Clare could say anything. “It’s also a side effect of being stuck in bed for over six months.” Uncle William had pulled her from the ravine and packed her mangled ankle in snow until it could be set once they got home. Then pneumonia had set in, made harder to battle by her grief and depression. “My two youngest cousins would creep in with me, and I’d read to them. I taught them letters, and the next thing I knew, Uncle William sent their tutor packing.”

Clare’s brown eyes widened. “How old were you?”

“By then? Thirteen. The younger ones preferred me, but Jonathan resented it. I’m only a few years older than him, and a girl besides.”

“I’ve never met anyone your age—boy or girl—who knows so much,” Clare said shyly, her voice ringing with honest admiration. Sage looked down at the liquid in her cup, unsure how to respond. “I always enjoyed lessons more than my brothers,” Clare continued. “I wish I could’ve learned more.”

Was Clare asking her to teach her?

Sage cleared her throat. “How far did you go in your studies?”

“Mostly just what I needed to know: sums, reading, and poetry. Botany, too, but that was limited to mostly edible plants. History was my favorite, though. I used to steal my brothers’ books to read at night.” The last was said with a naughty grin.

Sage felt herself smiling. “You know, we’ll be at Underwood in two days. I imagine there’s a sizable library there.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“You will if I help you.”

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