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Authors: Emily June Street

Sterling (10 page)

BOOK: Sterling
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Chapter Eleven

E
rich had locked
the bedchamber door behind him. Too tired to find a different way out, I curled on the bed, and somehow I slept. I didn’t wake until dawn, when footsteps echoed through the bedchamber and stopped by my side. I feigned sleep. The urge to open my eyes tempted, especially as breath brushed my cheek.

“Stop faking,” Erich’s voice said. “I know you’re awake.”

How could he know that?
I opened my eyes. Erich’s unjustly perfect face hovered inches from mine.

“What would you do in my shoes?” he asked. “My mistress has left me for another man. By tomorrow I’ll be the laughingstock of this whole town. In two sennights the gossip will have spread over the entire country. My family is in disgrace already. If Alira spreads stories, I’ll be worse than a laughingstock; I’ll be ostracized. How old are you?”

If the Talatas were in disgrace, did that mean Costas Galatien had indeed returned and claimed his throne? And why was he so put out with Alira leaving him? He could find another paramour as easily as snapping his fingers.

“I’m seventeen,” I answered absently, forgetting I ought to have lied.

“Only seventeen?” He sat down on the bed. His body brushed mine, and those prickling sparks shivered up my side.

Erich sprang away. He glanced at me as though trying to read my face. I schooled it quickly into a solemn mask. “You look older than that,” he said.

“Alira helped me with cosmetics.”

“Good.” He tapped his chin. “I think you’ll work perfectly, even if you are a bit young. What’s your name again?”

I glared at him. “Sera. Why did you tie me so roughly, before? Why did you lock me in here all night?”

A strange expression twisted his face. Guilt? “I didn’t want you to run off.”

I frowned. “That didn’t seem to help you with Alira.”

“What?”
He unsheathed his rapier from his scabbard and pointed it at me.

“I saw how frightened she was of you. She ran as soon as she possibly could.”

“What did she tell you?” he spat, waving his rapier too close to me.

“Nothing. I came to those conclusions all by myself. My lord.” I snapped my hand out and batted the rapier away.

Erich dropped the blade with a clatter just as my palm struck it. “Are you crazy? That edge could sever all the tendons in your hand!”

“I wasn’t the one recklessly swinging it around,” I snapped. We both peered at my hand, which indeed had a thin cut across the palm.

“Damn,” Erich muttered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He spoke so plaintively, I lifted my gaze to his.

I wrapped the bleeding hand into the silk robe. “It’s nothing. I can stand pain. Pain sharpens the senses, makes you—feel more alive.” I bit my tongue before I said anything else too similar to what I had said in the library at the ball.

Surprise—and suspicion?—flickered in Erich’s crystal blue eyes. “You remind me of someone.” He took a step closer and lifted one gloved hand, palm up, as though in offering.

I had a moment of panic, thinking that my cosmetic had smeared, that he saw my mark, that he
knew
, but his look held no disgust. “Do you mean to fix it again?” I asked. My left hand, the uninjured one, rubbed my chest where his blade had cut me before. There wasn’t even a mark there anymore.

“You weren’t supposed to see that. You can’t—” He broke off, dropped his hand, and paced. Then he pointed at the bed. “Sit.”

When I did not respond, he moved forward so I had to hop backward. The bed hit the back of my knees and forced me to sit. Erich deftly removed one of his gloves.

“Give me your hand,” he commanded.

I lifted my bleeding appendage. He cupped it softly, barely touching me with his one gloved hand. Shivers of glassy sensation ran up my arm from even this slight contact. Erich held very still, watching me react to his strange touch. I did not remove my hand from his.

“This is a secret thing,” he said, never taking his eyes from mine. “You can never tell. Anyone. Do you understand?”

Mesmerized, I nodded. He drew his bare finger across the cut on my palm, sending a warm explosion up my arm. The cut sealed itself as if it had never been, as the one on my chest had. He watched my face the whole time, gauging my response.

“Is it magic?” I whispered. “Are you a healer mage?” It was the only explanation I could fathom for this unusual talent.

Erich dropped my hand and turned away. “Never speak of this again. Go to Alira’s room, get dressed, and meet me downstairs in one hour.”

I hurried out. Gods, he made me feel so odd, one part terror, one part fluttery, girlish obsession. How had that cut healed so quickly, if not by magic? But House heirs were not permitted to use magic, even if they had it.

Alira’s room was a mess. Erich had torn through, stripping the bed sheets, throwing the contents of her trunks everywhere. Perfumes and cosmetics and creams were strewn across the floor beside the vanity. I righted the bottles and mopped up the spills, tucking away three containers of flesh-tinted cosmetic in the dressing gown’s only pocket.

A pile of silken scarves sat in the middle of the floor. I shook them out and hung them on the wall hooks by the vanity.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come,” I called, speaking like Sterling Ricknagel, not poor, downtrodden Sera.

“Sera, open the door for me. My arms are full,” Scelpts called.

I opened the door.

“I’m to help you dress.” The housekeeper stared at the floor as she spoke.

“I can dress myself. You don’t have to wait on me, Scelpts. I know you have too much to do already.”

“Master’s orders.” She lifted a black-and-white striped walking dress from the pile. My mother would have called it vulgar.

“Surely you don’t mean I’m to wear that!”

“The master had me get it from the street specifically for you,” Scelpts said. “I don’t think there’s another choice.”

I pulled a silk chemise from the pile over my head. Then I shrugged into the dress. It had been Alira’s, and so it was too short for my long legs and too wide in the bosom. Scelpts didn’t seem to care that the dress fit poorly. After she laced it, she bundled me into a bright red cape and departed without a word.

I sat at the vanity and repaired my face. My hands were not so deft as Alira’s, but I smoothed over any damage the night had done. I applied a bit of Alira’s rosewater to my throat and tightened my hair even more. It wouldn’t do to have a curl escape. Aside from my mark, my blonde ringlets were my most distinctive feature. As maid, I always trained them back severely, but they had been piled high and glorious on my head at the betrothal ball.

Keep hold of yourself, Sterling. You have to get out of this mess and get back to Shankar.

* * *

E
rich awaited
me in his front salon, his expression tight. “That clothing does not suit you,” he remarked as I hesitantly curtseyed. “We’ll fix you up better later today. But first we must make an appearance. We’ll take a turn on the main street and go through the park.”

“An appearance?” I echoed.

“It’s the thing to do in Avani.”

I shuffled in Erich’s wake, utterly confused. He did not seem to recognize me—but why was he dressing me in fine clothing and taking me out? What was his game? I feared asking any questions that might reveal me as Sterling Ricknagel lest he had not guessed my identity and this was some odd plan of his that I could not grasp.

He drove us in an open chariot. My mother would never have let me ride in such a dangerous thing. Everyone we passed stared and whispered. Of course they knew Erich’s identity—the heir of House Talata’s scandalous reputation made him practically a legend, and he was clearly no stranger in Avani. Other men nodded at him as we passed. He stopped the carriage in front of the park but did not help me down.

“Here are the rules,” he said quietly as we set off on the gravel path that wound into the grounds. “Never snub me in public, including leaving me for another lover. Never touch me—if there is to be any touching, I will initiate it. Do not speak to others of what we do together. You will be paid well if you can manage those three simple things.”

I stared at him. “I’m only a chambermaid, my lord. All I do is the cleaning.”

“Not anymore.” Erich increased his pace so I had to stride to keep up. “You’re my new mistress. Everyone who’s anyone in Avani is going to see us together today. We will start a blaze of gossip to counteract whatever rumors Alira has wrought. We must make them believe I cast off Alira for you. So you cannot say you’re a chambermaid. Now, where are you from?”

“Shankar,” I said, stupidly.


Shankar?”
he challenged. “You’re a long way from home. What about your family?”

“They’re dead.” I paused and swallowed my misery. “And I can’t be your mistress.” What kind of mad plan was this?

“Why in the name of Amassis not?” Erich snarled. A well-dressed couple approached from the opposite direction. Erich smiled benignly at them. They set to whispering as soon as they passed.

“I can’t,” I said. “I don’t want to be.”

“Gods in Amaranth! What’s not to want? I’m handsome, I’m rich, and I can take care of you. You’re a chambermaid, by the gods! This is the opportunity of a lifetime for you.”

Amassis above, could any man think more of himself? I shook my head. “But I don’t want to.”

Erich ignored me, moving along the path at top speed. I scrambled to keep up, thankful that the walking dress was too short—less chance I might trip on the hem with my legs churning so fast. We completed the loop through the hedges in no time at all.

“In,” Erich snapped as we arrived back at the chariot, once again neglecting to assist me into the vehicle. I climbed up awkwardly, sat down, and stared at my hands. I couldn’t help it—tears rose in my eyes.

Erich set his horse off and scowled. “What would it take?” he demanded.

“Take?”

“To get you to agree.”

“I won’t agree. I won’t be your mistress. You’ll have to find someone else. There are plenty of courtesans in Avani. It won’t be hard to find—”

“How much?” he barked.

“Why me?” I whispered. “There are other women who would be happy to be your mistress.”

Erich’s knuckles were white on the reins; I was surprised the horse hadn’t bolted at such tension. He would not look at me. “I would prefer it be you. You’re here. You’re easy. We’ve already been seen together.”

“But I’m unwilling.”

“Would it really be so bad?” he burst out. “I thought—I felt—earlier, it seemed we—had a rapport.” He could barely grind out the statement.

“A rapport,” I echoed.

He squeezed out more words, so fast I could hardly parse them. “You didn’t flinch when I touched you and you said you could bear some pain.”

I raised my brows. “Those are odd criteria for a relationship.”

“Quite frankly, I don’t care if you’re my mistress in fact. All I need is for you to pretend. This is a crisis for my reputation, and it’s coming at a bad time. Alira is not the first mistress who’s left me. She’s not even the second or third. I need damage control, and I need it now. It would be especially nice if I had a mistress whose arm I could touch in public without her screaming. I’ll pay you. How much do you want?”

For no good reason, his words hurt me. The tears overflowed, and once again I panicked about ruining my cosmetic. “I can’t,” I wailed.

“Damned Amatos.” Erich urged the horse to a breakneck pace. “What have you heard about me?” His voice was as sharp as a rapier. “That damned Alira. I should have known she was a gossip.”

“She never said anything about you.”

“Then what is the problem? It won’t even be for that long, a sennight or two. You can do it. The rules are clear and easy to follow. Now, how much?”

I found myself actually considering the proposition. I had meant to flee Avani as soon as possible, but Erich clearly did not recognize me, and I needed more money if I meant to get back to Shankar. “It will only be an act?” I clarified. “We won’t—you won’t expect me to—to
do
anything in private? I’ll just accompany you out in the world?”

Erich flicked a glance at me. “As long as you agree to my three rules, I’ll agree to whatever parameters you set.”

I could pretend to be infatuated with him; it wouldn’t even be a deception, because I had been smitten from the moment he’d kissed me in Engashta.
Oh gods.
“All right. For two sennights. For four green a day.”

“Four green a day!” Erich pulled the chariot to the curb in downtown Avani. “That’s exorbitant for a mistress who’s a former chambermaid offering me nothing more than a pretense.”

“That’s my price. Take it or leave it.”

He got down, tied the horse, and waited for me, blue eyes snapping. “For four green a day I could have an actual mistress.”

I pulled out all the stops. “You’d have to find one and convince her. I’m already here. Besides, everyone knows you’re a—a deviant. It might be harder than you think to find a willing—”

“Fine. Four green a day. But you’ll sleep in my room.”

“Fine.” I’d slept there one night; a few more wouldn’t hurt. “But you cannot tie me up again.”

BOOK: Sterling
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