Billow (32 page)

Suppressing a sigh, I marched over and settled into the chair across from them.

Eyes locked on to her. "Let's talk."

Dylan tensed. "Leave her alone."

"Shut up, Rosamund," I said smoothly. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Don't tell me what —"

"Don't you have someone else to torment?" I gave a predatory smile. "Maybe you can find a few puppies to kick around."

His face flushed with anger.

Amber lightly touched his hand with a resigned expression. "Give us a few minutes."

Indecision flitted across his face and I raised my brow. Did he forget what happened the last time he messed with me?

He scowled. "I'll be outside."

I waited until he left.

Amber was as immaculately put together as a doll. Perfectly applied make-up settled into her skin like an artificial mask and not a strand of hair was out of place. Her eye shadow even color-coordinated with her dress and tights.

But the blush and foundation couldn't conceal the paleness of her skin. She'd lost weight and sunken cheeks made her nose appear larger.

"Why did you give the
kouperet
to Chloe?"

"Because I wanted to help." Pale green eyes turned sullen. "Why do you treat Dylan so badly?"

"Because he's an ass," I said easily. "Who did you want to help?"

"Marcella and the kids." She frowned. "Dylan's going through a lot right now."

"I don't really care." My eyes narrowed. "Why did you want to help?"

"Because I wanted to do something. Anything." She picked at a thread in her dress. "And you should care what happens with Redavi."

The strange statement triggered a memory of the conversation I overheard in the woods.

"What's going on with you guys?"

I didn't really think she'd tell me, but my curiosity was piqued.

She stared at the floor. "Dylan and I are binding together at the end of the school year."

She made it sound like a death sentence.

I didn't get it.

Amber and Dylan were a couple. They both came from powerful Redavi families. It made sense they'd eventually end up as each other's mates. Maybe it was a little early to do it right after graduation, but it wasn't that far-fetched an idea.

I thought she'd be thrilled.

"That's not a good thing?"

She glared. "Of course not!"

I wasn't sure what to say. She heaved an exasperated sigh at my expression.

"The Governor allowed Marcella and your mom to choose their mates." She said it like she was explaining something basic. "Do you know how rare that is for a Redavi?"

"So you don't want to bind with Dylan?"

She shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "My mom and his dad planned this since we were ten. Basic financial deal."

Her tone was matter-of-fact. As if parents bargaining their children's future for money wasn't that big a deal.

Was that why Amber was always over-protective of Dylan? Because she'd known since she was a kid they were going to end up together?

I crossed my legs and leaned back. "But you're going out with him, right?"

It couldn't be that bad if they liked each other enough to be a couple.

Her cheeks reddened. "We're just pretending. Dylan's dad started getting after him. Told him we needed to be seen together in public."

What my Virtue sensed in the woods now made sense. Amber and Dylan cared about each other as friends. But they weren't in love.

She sighed. "Do you know what it's like to have your entire life decided for you? To have no real choices?"

Actually, I did. But I didn't say that.

It weirded me out that she had the same thoughts.

"We're seventeen," she said tiredly. "Dylan and I bind ourselves to each other and we're stuck forever."

When an ondine mated, her life was bound to her partner. If Dylan was unfaithful to Amber at any point, she'd die.

Considering the way he was with girls, that wasn't such an impossibility.

Maybe it really was a death sentence.

"Can't you make your family listen?"

"They're not going to listen. This happens all the time with Redavi matings."

"That's just stupid —"

"You see?" She rolled her eyes. "That's why I don't believe you're the
sondaleur
."

I gritted my teeth.

Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue…

"What are you talking about?" The words felt like ground glass in my mouth.

"You don't know anything about the reality of Haverleau. Aren't you supposed to be an Empath or something?"

I stiffened. "What does knowing about Redavi have to do with being the
sondaleur
?"

"Because the
sondaleur
is supposed to fight for all of us. Including Redavi."

"I think trying to end the war counts as doing that."

"That doesn't make you the
sondaleur
. That makes you like every other chevalier."

Anger spiked. "Chevaliers and gardinels give their lives —"

"I know that. You're not listening."

Fingers dug into the arms of the chair. She kept saying things I was tired of hearing.

Amber let out a deep breath and crossed her arms. "I'm talking about you, Kendra. Look at what you've done. Getting into the chevaliers. Working to show everyone you can do it. Everything's always about you. You just want to go into battle and kick Aquidae ass —"

"Because taking out Aquidae protects all of you," I snapped.

She shook her head. "How can you say you're protecting us when you don't know anything about Haverleau? You don't even know what you're protecting!"

"It doesn't matter —"

"You're a Redavi and you don't care. You don't respect any of us. You assume we're all stupid and shallow."

Uncomfortable, I shifted. Her words reminded me of Julian.

Amber stood and gave me a haughty look. "Until you show people you understand, no one's going to believe you're the
sondaleur
. No matter how much fancy magic fighting stuff you do."

She stalked out of the lounge, leaving me frustrated and confused.

Everybody wanted to tell me how to be the
sondaleur
. Nexa. Tristan. And of all people, now Amber.

Did they think it was easy? There was no handbook, no guidelines explaining how to do it.

A Royal Gardinel drove me over to the Governing House. Amber's words continued to ring the entire way there.

The sondaleur is supposed to fight for all of us.

Rhian waited in the private dining room. The mahogany table seemed larger than usual.

Gabe remained by Marcella's side at the hospital and Tristan was attending the gardinels' Christmas party. After our last meeting, I wasn't looking forward to seeing him any time soon.

"Merry Christmas,
sondaleur
."

I murmured the same greeting back.

Her health continued to decline. Pale skin appeared paper-thin. She sat with perfect posture, but she couldn't quite hide the exhaustion in her eyes.

Other than the occasional clink of silverware, we ate in silence. The absences at the table added to the weight between us.

"As you requested, I've made arrangements for Ms. Moreaux," Rhian finally said. "Augustin will be in charge of the program."

I swallowed and put down my fork. "I'd also like to include Amber Blanchard."

She raised her brow slightly. "I was under the impression Ms. Blanchard was more a punching bag than a friend."

"She is."

Her brow shot up.

"Not the punching bag part," I added hastily. "I meant she's not really a friend."

"And yet you wish to have her participate?"

Why was I doing this? I still wasn't sure. I just couldn't get the words she'd said earlier out of my head.

"I think it's a good idea," I said weakly.

"You are aware her aunt and uncle sit on the Governing Council."

"I know." The Blanchards voted against the Irisavies on most matters. "But I think she'll keep it to herself."

Rhian remained motionless, but something flashed in her eyes. I could've sworn it almost looked like pride.

She gave a perfunctory nod. "I'll have Augustin make the necessary arrangements."

I picked at the salad on my plate. In the middle of what was going on with the Governing Council, Marcella, Gabe, and the trafficking ring, I didn't think Rhian would get to my request for some time.

But she'd already taken care of it. I wondered how my grandmother handled so many things at once.

"Did anyone tell you how to do your job?"

The briefest surprise registered on her face before slipping away. "What do you mean?"

"Did someone tell you how to be Governor? The right way to do it?"

She'd been just a few months older than me when she took on the enormous responsibility of being the political leader of water elementals.

The authoritarian Governor's mask faded a bit and her expression turned contemplative. "Every day, I still wonder whether or not I've done the right things as Governor."

That surprised me. She didn't seem like a person who had self-doubts.

"The previous Governor was a distant relative who'd been in power since before I was born. She was a terrible leader, a lazy ondine who cared solely about her own comforts."

She took a sip of water. "When she died and I was selected to succeed, I had no specific goals or ideas. I simply did not want to be like her."

She leaned back in her chair. "I was thrust into a political world I knew nothing about. Everybody wanted something from me. New laws, other interests, favors. I soon realized being different from my aunt was an insufficient purpose. I had to possess my own clear intention for what I wished to accomplish."

"How did you figure that out?"

She considered. "I received a great deal of advice from those around me. People I trusted. Bernard, your grandfather. Nexa. My friend, Marquisa Bessette. And Queen Belicoux."

My eyes widened. Tristan's mother?

"Queen Belicoux was like an older sister." Hazel eyes grew distant with remembrance, her voice warmer than I'd ever heard it. "Eleri was a remarkable selkie. Like her son."

I stabbed at the crisp arugula. No matter where I went, I couldn't get away from him. Even if he wasn't physically there.

"So you listened to them?" I muttered.

"Sometimes," she said slowly. "Not always."

Her brows furrowed in thought and she took a tiny bite of salad.

"People will always tell you who or what they think you should be. In the end, you must come to terms with what you believe is true. You must decide for yourself what's important to fight for. Whether it's as Governor…" She paused. "Or as
sondaleur
."

Like Nexa, she made it sound like I had a choice. I still didn't understand how that was possible.

A sharp, rapid knock came at the door and Jeeves entered the dining room.

"What is it, Augustin?"

"I apologize for the interruption."

Solemn eyes turned to me. "
Sondaleur
, Gilroy has finally contacted you."

TWENTY-FIVE

Silk was packed with revelers enjoying the last weekend of the year.

The gardinels and I arrived separately in case Gilroy was watching. Todd the bartender let me in through the back exit and I sat at the same booth used in the first meeting.

Tristan and Ewan arrived fifteen minutes later, entering through the front like any other patron. With concealed
pedaillons
, they easily blended with the humans.

Ewan stood in the southwest corner of the bar, holding a beer. A pretty brunette flirted with him, but he looked utterly miserable.

The volume of inebriated voices and the thick smell of perfumes and colognes probably bothered his sensitive selkie senses.

Or maybe he just hated acting like he wasn't a gardinel.

Tristan once told me he preferred to sit in a quiet room and I'd teased him for it. My eyes reluctantly wandered over to where he sat at the bar.

If he was uncomfortable, he sure wasn't showing it. In fact, he looked like he was having a very nice time.

Maybe too nice.

I scowled.

Like Ewan, he was dressed for the part. The problem was he looked too good.

A dark grey cashmere sweater showed off the muscles on his chest, back, and arms. Black pants displayed long, athletic legs. Golden skin gleamed and locks of mahogany-streaked hair carelessly framed his eyes and cheekbones.

Under the reflected lights and glass of the bar, he looked like a model at a photo shoot. Several women blatantly eyed him with that universal look of interest.

It made my skin itch.

A well-endowed blonde snagged the prime seat next to him. The powder blue v-neck sweater draped over her assets, subtly accentuating them without looking cheap.

She was beautiful. And probably educated, mature, elegant. He joked with her, his movements easy and expression attentive.

When I set up this meeting with Gilroy, Tristan volunteered himself and Ewan to act as back-up.

This was a professional security matter and I behaved accordingly. We spoke in polite tones and pretended our talk at the chevalier rest post didn't happen.

Actually, I was probably the one doing all the pretending.

I refused to talk or think about it. Refused to spend one second longer in a room with him than necessary.

So why did I want to punch that blonde in the face?

Fingers tightened around my drink. It wasn't my business.

For all I knew, Tristan already had someone. A selkie woman back in his kingdom. Someone ready to be his queen when he took over the throne. Someone who knew things like his birthday and his family and what he did when he wasn't working.

Blondie tossed her head back and laughed, showing off a set of perfect teeth and the creamy, smooth skin of her neck.