The Storyspinner (18 page)

Chapter 49

Leão

“They have a council and wear
cadarço
,” Leão said as he and Pira curried the horses. “It could be a coincidence.”

He waited for her to toss a sarcastic remark or eye roll his way—she couldn’t get through any conversation without some caustic observation—but she didn’t respond, her hands moving efficiently over the horse’s coat.

With currying combs still in hand, he walked to the next horse down the line and started on its far side so he could see her over the animal’s back. He liked to watch her face when they talked. She tried so hard to seem implacable, not letting anything affect her, but her eyes gave her away. They were bright and fiery, revealing every time she thought he said something stupid and tilting up a bit at the corners when she tried to hide a smile.

He hadn’t been able to make her smile in days, and he’d finally figured out why.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation for my actions in the barn,” he said, watching her. She wouldn’t make eye contact, but her hands hesitated for a moment. “I’m not sure what you thought, but I wouldn’t break the law. Not even to get information about Performers’ Camp.”

She met his gaze with a flat stare, then resumed her brushing with an irritated head shake.

“You have to know me better than that. I don’t break the laws,” Leão continued. “I’m a member of the Elite Guard. I live to uphold them.”

“You honestly think I’m upset with you over a matter of the law?”

Upset was a mild way to describe her attitude toward him, and Leão didn’t think he’d done anything else to deserve her ire. “If it’s not the law, then why are you mad at me?”

He dodged the currying brush she chucked at his head.

“I don’t give a fig about the law, Leão. We’ve broken the law dozens of times just to get here.” She rounded the tail end of his horse and pressed a hard finger into his chest. “It’s about
using
that girl to reach your goal.”

“I don’t have much experience with kissing, but she seemed to enjoy it.”

She slapped him too fast for him to react, then spun on her heel and marched away.

“I don’t understand why you’re angry,” he mumbled, pressing a hand to his stinging cheek.

Pira continued her trajectory beyond Tex and Jacaré, who were spitting rabbits over the fire.

“Where are you going?” Jacaré said as she stepped out of the circle of stones that delineated the camp’s boundaries and headed into the woods.

She didn’t answer.

Jacaré stood, but Tex put out a restraining arm. “Let her go. She may find out something helpful.”

Chapter 50

Rafi

“Let me go,” Fernando said through clenched teeth. He gripped his sword with white knuckles, but the men on either side of him weren’t going to let him use it.

“Uncle, please. Don’t start anything here,” Rafi asked, placing a hand on Fernando’s chest. A vein in the man’s neck hammered in time with one above his eyebrow.

“I’m not starting anything, Rafi. I intend to finish it.”

Lord Inimigo, Duke of Maringa, raised empty palms. “I come unarmed, bearing gifts, accompanied by family.” He waved, and a girl stepped into the dining hall. Behind her stretched an endless line of servants, all in matching livery and wearing thick, silver bands around their necks. “I wanted to welcome your nephew into manhood. I bear you no ill will, Lord Fernando. I know I’ll never earn your forgiveness, but perhaps we can dispense with the hostility between us.” He offered a smile, his teeth so white they reflected the light. “Let’s put aside the past and move toward the future.”

“You’re a butcher and a murderer. Your men hung our king from the ramparts of his castle and killed every man, woman, and child within the walls of Roraima.” He turned suddenly, pointing his finger at Johanna. “This Performer was telling us the tale to remind us of your nature. Finish it, girl. Tell them about the screams of the dying.”

All eyes focused on Johanna, and for once she looked uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“Enough,” Rafi shouted. “I will not allow my naming day to result in war. In Santiago, we uphold the treaty and expect all of our guests to do the same, or they will be asked to leave this state.”

Duke Inimigo sketched a half bow in acquiescence. Fernando shook his head. “Then I shall leave. I warned you that I wouldn’t sleep under the same roof as this Keeper-blasted excuse of a man.”

“Fernando, please.” Lady DeSilva held out a beseeching hand, which was ignored.

“Escort me out, Rafi.”

“Dom, you and Master Ortiz stay here and make sure all of the men from Impreza follow us out,” Rafi commanded. “Captain Alouette will accompany us.”

The men stepped away, allowing Fernando to return his sword to his hip and, without another word, they all turned for the dining hall’s far doors.

“Good-bye, Fernando,” Duke Inimigo yelled. “I had hoped to meet you under different circumstances.”

“The next time I see that man, I hope he’s on the end of my blade,” Fernando responded, loud enough to draw a few gasps.

Rafi’s jaw tightened, as did his grip on his uncle’s arm.

The grooms in the stable yard were manic, running to the barracks, saddling horses, adding foodstuffs to panniers. In this case, the eavesdropping servants had done Rafi a favor.

“Send them away,” Fernando commanded, signaling to the grooms and men nearby. Rafi shooed the onlookers back and helped his uncle prepare to ride.

“I have two things to speak with you about, and I’d hoped to have more time to do it. But now . . .” He threw his saddle over his horse’s back. Fernando pressed his thumbs into a notch in the saddle horn, and the section slid aside. The compartment hid a small linen bag. “We can work out the details later, but I intended to name you heir to my estate at your naming ceremony.”

He pressed a sigil ring into Rafi’s palm. Rafi knew the emblem without looking. He could feel the fins of the great fish cutting into his skin.

“I know it would be too much land for you to manage alone, but I hoped you would train up Dom and send him to me to act as your regent.”

“Uncle—”

“I don’t have time to debate this. Just agree for now.” He pressed on, not waiting for an answer. “The second thing is that girl, that Performer. I think she could be in danger. Someone is hunting girls that match her description. My lieutenant’s daughter was murdered after attending a performance last year. Another, a maid from my own estate, has been missing for five months.”

“What happened to them? Why were they targeted?”

“It could be a sick infatuation with a specific type of girl, or . . .” Fernando shook his head, eyeing all the people in the yard. “Your mother has her own suspicions. I’m not sure if I believe them, but post a guard on Johanna’s rooms and at her house.” He gripped both of Rafi’s shoulders.

“Of course. I’d never let harm come to any of my people. I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”

“Make sure you take care of yourself, too.” Fernando opened his mouth to say something else, but shut it as one of his guardsman approached.

“We’re ready to ride when you are, my lord.”

“Mount up. I’ll be with you momentarily.”

The guard nodded and called to their small contingency. Fernando waited until the man had moved a fair distance away. “With Inimigo and Belem under your roof, you must tread carefully,” he said, eyes searching out a threat. “Don’t let Belem’s laziness fool you. He may look as harmless as a jellyfish, but we both know their sting is deadly.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Fernando’s face broke into a fierce grin. “I’ll miss you, boy, but I hope to come back before the first winter storm.”

“All right.”

The man gathered him into a tight hug. Rafi held on, wishing that his uncle was willing to stay.

No chance.

Fernando swung into the saddle, whistling to his men, and they left the yard at a gallop. The horses’ hooves thundered like the threat of rain in the distance, and Rafi wondered if perhaps the storm was already upon him.

Chapter 51

Johanna

The gentry whispered, shooting nervous glances at Inimigo as Fernando was escorted out of the dining hall.

“Forgive me for interrupting your meal, sirs and ladies,” Inimigo said, offering another half bow to the room. “If someone will direct us to our suites, we’ll leave you all in peace.”

Lady DeSilva seemed uncharacteristically flustered. Her staff hung against the back walls waiting for her to issue a command, but she didn’t act.

Johanna coughed and shot a look at Brynn.

“I’ll go get some fresh place settings, my lady,” Brynn said with a curtsy.

It worked, spurring Lady DeSilva into action. “Yes, please do. Join us, Duke Inimigo.” She eyed the crowd, silencing a dozen conversations around the room. “We extend hospitality to all our guests.”

“Thank you for your generosity, but my daughter and I are road weary. Tomorrow, perhaps, we’ll be more fit company.”

That’s doubtful,
Johanna thought. The duke, his men, and his daughter fairly glistened as if fresh from the bath. The girl’s hair hung to her tiny waist like a solid sheet of black silk. They must have stopped outside the township to don their best clothes. There was no way the girl could have ridden comfortably in a dress cut so close to the skin. It had a high collar and long sleeves, but there was no question of the girl’s shape. She had a beautiful figure, tall and well rounded with a generous bust and hips.

“Before we retire,” Inimigo continued, “I’d like to introduce my daughter, Maribelle.” He held out a hand, and the girl curtsied deeply to Lady DeSilva.

Johanna could hear the seams on the dress screaming, expecting them to pop under the strain, but the material shifted without tearing. Pity.

“I hope she’ll find friends among the DeSilvas.”

“I hope she will as well.” Lady DeSilva’s words lacked conviction, but she gave the girl a polite head nod.

Johanna used the distraction to sneak into the kitchen, earning a wink from Dom as she went.

Brynn and Cook were deep in conversation, heads tilted together, voices low as they dried the huge stack of dishes at the end of the washing line. The smell of lemon-scented soap hung heavy over the vats of boiling wash and rinse water.

“Johanna, did you hear?” Brynn asked as she rubbed a plate dry. “Inimigo brought
slaves
with him. Thirty of them.”

“How do you know they’re slaves? I thought Inimigo had to release all his captives as part of the treaty.”

“He did, but rumor says he buys people from the Wisp Islands. All the servants he brought with him have got collars around their necks. They remind me of the dogs in Lord Rafi’s—” She cut off with a squeak, eyes focused on something over Johanna’s shoulder.

“Pardon me.” The voice was feminine, deep and sultry, but there was something in the sound that made Johanna twitch like someone had run their fingernail from the base of her skull to her tailbone. “I’m looking for the housekeeper.”

Johanna took the towel out of Brynn’s hand and stepped into her place beside Cook, studying the newcomer in her peripheral vision. The woman stood a head taller than Brynn, making her as tall as Rafi. Her blond hair had been swept away from her face into a tight twist, highlighting dagger-sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin. A few lines radiated from her dark brown eyes. Taken individually her features were a bit too angled for true beauty, but somehow the collection resulted in a stunning face. She was dressed in Inimigo’s colors, but not in anything you could call livery. Her dress draped across her body in delicate folds, baring one shoulder, and was belted at the waist with wide golden links. Whoever she was, she had access to plenty of coin.

“We don’t have a housekeeper,” Brynn said as she untied her apron. “I’m the head maid. How can I help you?”

“No housekeeper? It’s impressive you manage so well.” The woman said it so it wasn’t quite a compliment.

If Brynn noticed the derision in the woman’s tone, she was too well trained to comment. “Was there something you needed?”

“I’m Vibora, Duke Inimigo’s steward. We brought a large staff—servants, personal dressers and so forth—but it seems there isn’t enough room.” She gave Brynn an almost smile. “If there aren’t enough beds here in the house or in the barracks, perhaps there is a place where the servants can put up a few of our traveling tents.”

Johanna shivered despite the hot plate in her hands and the humidity of the room. Something about this woman made her skin crawl.

“I’m sure we can find some accommodations, if they don’t mind sleeping several to a room.” Brynn pointed to the doorway that led to the living areas.

“Just a moment.”

Cold fingers touched the back of Johanna’s neck, and she followed them to the face of Inimigo’s steward.

“I heard the DeSilvas hired a Performer for this occasion.” She tapped Johanna’s bare neck twice before dropping her hand to her side. “I so enjoy a good performance, and look forward to seeing more of you during my stay.”

Johanna resisted the urge to step out of the woman’s reach. “Thank you, my lady. I’m always pleased to have a receptive audience.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Vibora let herself be led away by Brynn, and Johanna scrubbed at her neck with the drying cloth. The feeling of
invasion
remained.

Cook grunted and handed Johanna another plate. “I’m shocked a woman like that is Inimigo’s steward.”

“Because she’s a woman?”
A strange, disturbing woman?

“No, because she’s so lovely.” Cook began stacking the dishes in a hutch near the kitchen’s entrance, peeking around the corner so she could see where Brynn had taken their guest.

“Do you think I’ll need to clear my brothers out of my room? Would it help if we went back to the wagons tonight?”

“Goodness! Didn’t anyone tell you?” Cook eyed the serving staff, searching for the failed messenger in their midst. “Master Thomas came and took the boys home after you began Storyspinning. He said there was some business with your mother and thought it was best if you all went home for the evening.”

Of course he did. Thomas was nothing if not the peacemaker. Marin had likely returned to the empty wagons, angry and embarrassed, and sent her eldest son scurrying to bring back her children.

Johanna’s shoulders drooped. She’d have to walk to the wagons tonight and leave early enough the next morning to arrive in time for the midday meal.

And I’ll have to drag my brothers with me. Through the forest. Again.

Cook’s face wrinkled with concern. “What do you need, miss? What can I help you with?”

The amount of dishes and pots and pans was daunting, and even though it would make her journey stretch even later into the night, Johanna wanted to help. These people had been good to her. She reached for the next dish. “Nothing. It’s just that I’ll probably need to get home before too long.”

“Out with you! Performers don’t clean anyway.” Cook pushed Johanna toward the kitchen door. “You go and get some rest.”

When Cook wouldn’t relent, Johanna changed into her hunting clothes. She slung her satchel over her back, waved good night to the gate guards, and walked into the woods.

Johanna wasn’t afraid of the forest at night. The animals created their own music of rustles and chirps. The cicadas and crickets added the descant, and the three-quarter moon danced on a stage lit by stars. It was peaceful, and Johanna needed to enjoy the calm as she intended to raise hell when she got home.

A titi, its white face a bright splash in the shadows, scolded her from one of the trees. The little monkey hooted and chittered, protecting its family, till she was far beyond its territory.

Animals instinctively knew how to care for their young. How could her mother have forgotten? What had happened? How does a respected Performer fall so far?

Johanna cringed at that turn of phrase. She’d seen her father fall. One instant off balance had sent him to his death. But her mother’s condition, self-inflicted as it was, had sent them all tumbling. If Marin had been sober the day the Performers’ Council ruled, maybe she could have convinced them to let the family stay.

Johanna had kept that nugget of anger close to her heart, carrying it with her for all these months without saying anything, and it had finally worn a hole she couldn’t ignore.

Perhaps if Johanna hadn’t been completely wrapped up in how the scene with her mother would play out, she would have heard the horse hooves before they were too close.