Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses) (26 page)

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Authors: Sharon Shinn

BOOK: Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses)
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“Indeed. I’ve changed my mind. I am learning how to brandish a weapon.”
 
 
Which was so funny she couldn’t help bursting into laughter. He beamed right back at her and then gestured at the game board. “Come, now. Can we finish tonight? Or I’ll have to hunt up a fresh set for my encounter tomorrow.”
 
 
Wen sobered and bent over the board. “Certainly we can. I think it’s my turn.” She shoved all her remaining armies into the northeastern quadrant, leaving the crown piece quite solitary on the southern border. “Your move.”
 
 
He stared down in dismay. “But—I can’t counter that.”
 
 
“I know.”
 
 
“That’s not how you play cruxanno! You
never
leave your own territories unprotected! What if I could march my army there and slaughter your king before you could breach my defenses?”
 
 
“I don’t think you can, but go ahead and try. One way or the other, we’ll be done tonight.”
 
 
He raised his eyes to study her. “I would never have imagined you could be so reckless.”
 
 
She met his gaze steadily. “It’s only a game.”
 
 
“If the stakes were real, would you make such a gamble?”
 
 
“It would depend on what would be lost if I failed.”
 
 
He took a deep breath. “I don’t know that I’ve ever risked everything, leaving nothing behind as a safeguard.”
 
 
She stopped the words that rose to her lips; she would not ask them of anyone, certainly not a nobleman, and her employer.
Even when you married? Even when you risked your heart?
She had no experience to compare to that. She had taken her own lovers carelessly, knowing each affair would last a short time. She had yearned after Justin with a hopeless hunger, but even that relationship hadn’t demanded any commitment from her since Justin had been oblivious to her emotions. Except for its ongoing misery, it had been very easy, in fact, requiring no time, no sacrifice, no hard choices.
 
 
The one thing she would have thrown away everything else to protect was the life of the king. She would have given her own life for his. And still, he was dead and she was not, so who was she to question the stakes another man might find too high?
 
 
“I suppose most of us haven’t had to make such a decision,” she said at last. “But I don’t care about cruxanno, so I don’t care if I win or lose.”
 
 
“Well, I’m not giving up without a fight,” he said, regaining some of his focus. “Let’s see, I shall—hmm.” He fell silent, studying the board.
 
 
He made a few excellent moves as the night wore on, but it was no use. Wen’s forces had overwhelmed his and he was forced to surrender. “We should have made a bet,” Wen said.
 
 
“Next time, maybe.”
 
 
“Aren’t you tired of cruxanno? You will be after tomorrow night, won’t you? I hope so.”
 
 
He was amused. “Very well, we’ll set the board aside. You can teach me a card game or we’ll find another diversion.”
 
 
I don’t have to come by every night if you’re growing tired of me,
she thought. But she didn’t say it. She didn’t want him to revoke the privilege. She didn’t want to give up their quiet exchanges and laughing exclamations of surprise.
 
 
It was only for another five weeks. It would not hurt anybody if she enjoyed his company that much longer.
 
 
 
SERLORD
Zellin Banlish arrived with a flourish, in a fancy carriage drawn by six horses, and accompanied by four guards of his own. The trip between his Manor and Fortune was long enough that he would be spending the night, and so would his guards. Wen courteously offered them sleeping space in the barracks, which they instantly accepted.
 
 
So they did not plan to loom beside their master inside the House while he visited, dedicating themselves to his protection. That simplified her own task, though it made her think less of Zellin Banlish.
 
 
Though she had not thought well of him before.
 
 
During dinner, she and Moss stood at opposite ends of the dining room, wearing their sashes splashed with Fortunalt pearls and keeping their faces absolutely impassive. Serephette, who apparently had not been informed that they would be present, gave them each one long, expressive look and then ignored them for the entire evening. Zellin Banlish didn’t even seem to notice that they were in the room. He was a middle-aged but relatively trim man of medium build, thinning brown hair, and eyes as blue as his son’s. His face was round and might have seemed pleasant if he ever smiled, Wen thought, but on the whole he had a dour aspect that gave him an unfriendly cast. If asked to make a quick judgment of him, Wen would have written him off as neither observant nor particularly keen-witted.
 
 
Demaray Coverroe was both, however, and throughout the meal, her gaze occasionally flickered between the two guards until she returned her attention to her tablemates. It would have been a much quieter meal had she not been present, Wen thought, for Serephette never bothered to make much effort and the men were more interested in their food. Demaray’s lively conversation kept the whole table talking during the first three courses, as she drew out everyone in turn. The serlord talked with some enthusiasm about his latest racehorse, while Serephette was induced to discuss a new fashion that she particularly admired. Demaray even asked Jasper about the reprinting of one of his books, something that would never have occurred to Wen to inquire after. She had to admit the lady was a polished hostess, even while in someone else’s house.
 
 
When the meal was half over, Demaray sent a glance once again between Wen and Moss. “What is this new affectation, Jasper?” she asked in a teasing voice. “I
almost
understand when you insist on guards accompanying Karryn outside the walls, but here inside the house? Following
you
? Or are they guarding Serephette? Naturally I consider you both precious, but surely this is taking caution too far.”
 
 
Jasper touched his napkin to his lips. “We have not told this story publicly, because Karryn begged us not to, but five weeks ago an attempt was made to abduct her,” he said.
 
 
Wen was curious to see Demaray’s reaction, for she had assumed Karryn had shared the story with her best friend, and Lindy with her mother. But the serlady looked sincerely horrified. “No! Abduct Karryn? Who? How did you get her back?”
 
 
“A good-hearted stranger assisted Karryn in her escape,” Jasper said. “As for the man who took her—Let us say I think he believes he is safe from justice, but I am determined to let him know that is not true.”
 
 
Zellin Banlish looked up from his food for almost the first time since he’d stopped talking horseflesh. “She would recognize this man if she saw him again?”
 
 
Jasper laid his napkin down. “Recognize him? She is acquainted with him,” he said softly. “She has danced with him in his own home.”
 
 
Demaray laid her hands flat on the table and made as if to rise. She was pale. “Jasper! But who could have been so villainous! And so bold?”
 
 
“I prefer not to name him at the moment,” Jasper said. “But I will, when I have the proper evidence.”
 
 
“What kind of proof could you gather now?” Banlish asked skeptically. “More than a month past the event?”
 
 
Demaray gave him a smoldering look. “I would think Karryn’s word would be proof enough.”
 
 
Banlish shrugged. “A girl that age might say anything. Maybe she thought to run away from home with a handsome young lord—I assume this man was noble?”
 
 
“Indeed.”
 
 
“And when the affair didn’t go as she expected, and her guardian came looking for her—Well, she wouldn’t be the only young woman to make up a story about force when she had been intending seduction all along.”
 
 
Demaray turned her back on him as if unwilling to consider such a possibility with her own daughter. “But, Jasper, was she harmed—in any way at all?” she asked.
 
 
Her delicate emphasis on these last words made it clear what she meant. Serephette spoke up for the first time. “No,” she said coldly. “Her virtue is still intact, though a marlady can marry where she likes even if she is not virginal. You need have no worries on that score, Demaray.”
 
 
Now Demaray was all fluttery apology, with a touch of reproof. “Serephette! That’s not what I meant! I was worried about her well-being, not her marriage prospects.”
 
 
“As it happens, her abductor had marriage on his mind, too,” Jasper said. “It seems he had a hankering for a marlord’s title and thought that a—forceful—proposal might win him his desired bride.”
 
 
“That’s outrageous!” Demaray exclaimed.
 
 
But Banlish was nodding. “It wouldn’t be the first time a marlady had found her husband that way.”
 
 
Demaray glared at him. “Which certainly does not make it acceptable now!”
 
 
“I suppose you would have to ask Jasper for a more exact date, but I don’t think marrying into the Twelve Houses by force has been a common practice for at least a hundred years,” Serephette said in a chilly voice. “And that it was tried on my daughter is abominable. As you might guess, I disagree strongly with Jasper on the notion of keeping Karryn’s abductor a secret. If it were up to me, I would publish his name to every House and Manor across Gillengaria so that he would find it impossible to find
any
bride, let alone a serramarra.”
 
 
“Then tell us,” Demaray urged. “Who took Karryn against her will?”
 
 
Serephette’s face took on that brooding, haunted look that was her most common expression—as if she was reviewing matters too dreadful to speak of, too powerful to forget. “She won’t tell me. She does whatever Jasper says.”
 
 
Zellin Banlish appeared to be slightly amused. “Seems like Jasper Paladar wields a lot of power here,” he said. “Thirteenth House lord making the rules for the marlady-to-be? That seems backward.”
 
 
“Zellin!” Demaray exclaimed, and Serephette gave the serlord a frosty look. But Jasper just brushed his napkin to his lips again and smiled.
 
 
“Romar Brendyn was regent to Queen Amalie before she took her crown,” he said. “He’s Twelfth House, of course, but no marlord himself. I cannot think the disparity between his rank and Amalie’s was any greater than mine and Karryn’s—and I would happily take him for my model.”
 
 
Zellin shrugged and seemed to lose interest in anything except his food. Serephette came unceremoniously to her feet.
 
 
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve developed a severe headache,” she said. “Please enjoy the rest of your dinner.”
 
 
And without another word, she strode out the door. Demaray stared after her in dismay. “Jasper—should I leave as well?” she said. “How awkward!”
 
 
“Don’t go on my account,” Zellin said, around his food. “I couldn’t care one way or the other if Serephette is in the room.”
 
 
“Oh, finish the meal, at least,” Jasper replied. “The dessert is especially good. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
 
 
Wen was not surprised when Demaray settled back into her chair. Her impression was that the lively little noblewoman was more entertained than embarrassed by the situation, for she seemed like the kind of person who delighted in a scandal, as long as it didn’t reflect on her. She also, Wen thought, was the sort of woman who craved male attention and bloomed into true prettiness when she was the center of it. There wasn’t much attention to hope for from Zellin Banlish, but Jasper directed all his conversation at her for the rest of the meal. Wen had to think that Demaray Coverroe didn’t truly mind that Serephette had stalked from the table in such a fury.
 
 

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