A Veil of Secrets Read online

  My throat tightened. “Edan and I used our rings to finance our journey north.”

  “Strange that with the generosity Henri extended to you, you felt no need to renew that bond by purchasing new bands.” He rubbed my knuckles. “I can’t imagine a female turning down a chance to shop in the famed Hall of Artisans in the Araneidae nest. Their work is of the very highest quality.”

  “My tastes are simple.” That much was the truth. Until we landed in Erania, the only chance we had to own anything—even the clothes on our backs—was by acquiring admirers with deep pockets.

  The deeper the pockets, the darker the association was in my experience. I had tried to avoid any undo interest from our master’s peers, a near impossible task, and had done things I wasn’t proud of.

  Neither could I be ashamed. I had survived. Survival was all that mattered.

  Or so I had once believed.

  Asher made a noncommittal sound.

  Tugging on my hand got me nowhere with him. “Why are you asking me this now?”

  His brow creased. “I have to know.”

  The hard edge to his voice made me flinch.

  Beside us, a throat cleared. Old Father directed us to the water’s edge. Our turn had come.

  Asher used his grip to entwine our fingers then guided me to kneel beside him while Old Father chanted softly. Asher scooped a handful of sand into our bowls, and we scoured them clean. His hand found mine as we scrubbed. With deft fingers, he worked the bowl from my grasp and then rinsed it.

  “It’s the male’s duty to bring these back to the hall,” he explained while helping me stand.

  I glanced around. “What do I do now?”

  “Explore your new home.” He started walking. “I’ll check on our lodgings then I’ll find you.”

  Something in his voice raised gooseflesh on my arms. “Wait—our lodgings?”

  Asher kept walking.

  I turned and bumped into the male portion of the final pair in line.

  The girl beside him was half his age with thin cheeks and a sharp nose. I watched his attempts at being polite to his partner, who snubbed his offer of sand to scoop her own. They washed and rinsed without a word, then they stood after finishing. The crass girl darted for a waiting group of her peers.

  She carried her own bowl.

  Without meaning to, I wandered the city until I found myself standing across the street from the house where Pascale lived. Boredom must have drawn me to her since I knew no one else in the city.

  “Marne?” Pascale shoved aside the rug in her doorway. “I thought I heard someone. Come in.”

  Her hair was soaked and left a wet trail across the floor as I followed her to a large washbasin.

  “I wanted to make certain you were all right.”

  She pulled a rag from the water and lathered it with a sliver of soap. “I’m well enough. I almost regret my actions this morning.” She set to scrubbing her stained cheeks. “Then I catch a glimpse of my face and lose all shame over what I did.” She grinned. “The maven is quite displeased with me.”

  “You say that as if it’s a good thing.” I would not want to stand before a maven’s fury.

  But I was not a maven’s sister to know I could get away with such behavior.

  After rinsing her face, Pascale touched her cheeks. “Is it any better?”

  “It’s paler than before,” I offered.

  She growled under her breath.

  I ducked when she flung her rag across the room. “Do I want to know what happened?”

  “I’ll tell you what happened.” She whirled. “Lleu caught me on my way back to the river. I told him this was the female’s side of the river, as he well knew, and that he should leave, but he said not yet it wasn’t because I was on dry land. Then he demanded I tell him what he had told me while he was in his cups, and I refused because he was being such a beast. Then the brute lifted me over his shoulder and carried me to the courtyard where the barrels of dye are kept.” She paused for effect before snarling, “And then he dropped me arse-first into one. He ruined my dress and, as if that wasn’t enough, he shoved my head under too. If Asher hadn’t stopped him, I might have drowned.”

  Well, that somewhat corroborated Asher’s story.

  I fought not to laugh as Pascale’s anger flushed her blue cheeks purple. I gave myself the errand of reclaiming her rag while smoothing my features. “Is his concern justified? What did he say?”

  “He— Nothing.” She sighed. “He said nothing he should be ashamed of.”

  Whatever his secret, she appeared resolved not to share it, at least not with me. It was curious that she guarded his privacy after all he had done to her, all they had done to one another. I would have expected her to seek her vengeance through any ears she could bend.

  I dropped her washcloth back into the basin. “I’m sure it will all wash out in a day or so.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She tugged on her hair. “At least no one here will snicker to my face.”

  “The Salticidae seem very conservative. I doubt they want to engage in your feud.”

  “Feud, pah.” She glared at the offending blue strands. “He’s such an infuriating male.”

  Thinking of Asher’s strange behavior, I agreed. “Most of them are.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me in the least that Vaughn is his closest friend. His only friend, I bet.” Lips flat, she turned to me in all seriousness. “Who else would tolerate such a beast or beastly behavior?”

  Mentioning that Asher seemed to be his friend, or that Lleu appeared a harmless flirt to me, might cost me my best chance for having female companionship while in Beltania. “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t either,” she huffed.

  “A moment ago, did you mean Paladin Vaughn?” I asked.

  Vaughn was the Mimetidae paladin. For him to station a special friend of his so far from Cathis, their clan home, the paladin must have some stake in the welfare of this city or in Pascale’s safety. It made sense that because the Mimetidae were the guardians of Erania that they would send guards to watch over persons from that city who fell under their protection. As Maven Lourdes’s sister, neither the Mimetidae nor the Salticidae could afford for harm to befall Pascale while she was visiting here.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t shake the feeling something more was happening in this quiet farming community than we had been told. They had been too calm about the threat of risers. Any other clan would have raised the alarm and hidden their females and their children. Yet the Salticidae rulers had given more consideration for last night’s disturbance, whatever that was, than for a potential attack.

  “Yes.” Pascale wrinkled her nose. “Paladin Rhys is kind to Lourdes at least. His brother doesn’t have a kind bone in his body. Yet another reason he and Lleu are so well suited.”

  From what I had overheard from the Eranian guards, it seemed that Paladin Vaughn and Paladin Rhys were half-brothers, which might account for the differences in their temperaments.

  I laughed at her puckered expression. “If it makes you feel better, blue suits you.”

  “You aren’t serious.” She dragged her fingers through her hair. “Even if that was the case, and I know you are being kind, who is here to see me? What does it matter how I look? It doesn’t really.”

  I didn’t contradict her. “Don’t tell me you’re complaining about the local customs too?”

  “No. Not really. My sister was wise to send me here.” She sighed. “She knew there would be no eligible males and thus there could be no temptation, which is for the best. I am so easily led astray.”

  The regret in her voice caused me to adjust my perception of her crime to one involving a male. If nothing else, I was certain now she had been sent here, which was interesting in and of itself.

  “How long must you stay here?
” She clearly ached to return home, and I envied her having one.

  “Let’s talk of other things.” She exhaled. “The world is drab enough without me adding to it.”

  She dropped onto a stool beside a table with her dressing implements and peered into a shard of foggy mirrored glass. I circled behind her, picked up a fine-toothed comb and set to work detangling.

  Pascale’s head tilted back without my asking. Apparently, we were both creatures of habit.

  “It has been so long since someone brushed my hair.” She closed her eyes. “It feels so nice.”

  After parting her hair, I began a simple plait. “What are your plans for the day?”

  “I have more weaving to do. Then I will dye the fabric from today, red I think, and I must bring it to Old Father for his inspection.” She smiled. “He’s determined to send me home a useful person.”

  “There are worse things than being useful.” I began to suspect she felt the same.

  She opened her eyes and stared at me through the glass. “I don’t want to ask an insensitive question…”

  “I don’t mind.” I was well used to them.

  “I was told that you were a soldier’s wife, that your husband sought work with the Salticidae.” She twisted to face me. “I don’t want to say this poorly, given what you have suffered, but I’ve lived with servants all my life. The way you hold yourself, your manners, make me wonder…” She winced at her own brashness.

  “I was once a slave in a very fine household in Fortunia.” It was easier to confide than expected.

  “How romantic.” She clasped her hands. “Did you run away to be with him?”

  “I had no choice.” Though I was thinking of Idra when I said, “My mistress was cruel, and Edan couldn’t leave me with her.” At Pascale’s wide-eyed expression, I added, “You might have a different view of what I felt I must do, considering your upbringing.”

  She jerked as if I had slapped her. “We have servants in Erania, that is true. But they are treated well and paid fairly. We employ the same families for generations, because they are content to work. We do not condone slavery. We have never had slaves, and there will never be slaves in Erania.”

  “Forgive me.” I ducked my head. “I didn’t mean to imply you found such practices acceptable.”

  “None of that.” She turned and tapped my chin up with her finger. “We’re equals now.”

  “I doubt that.” I set her fine comb aside. “You are still a maven’s sister.”

  “I don’t see Lourdes here, do you?” She threw out her arms. “For now, Sikya is my maven.”

  I laughed. “You’ll notice I don’t call her Sikya.”

  “That hardly counts. The use of her given name spares me no grief.” She waved a hand. “Here I must do as she wishes. Here I am an average female, learning a trade to help the city earn an income so I can pay for my lodging and meals the same as everyone else does. I get no special treatment.”

  “I would have thought your sister—” I snapped my mouth shut. “That was rude.”

  “I am rude.” She took my hand. “You are charming and politeness itself. Go on. Ask away.”

  “If your sister sent you here, wouldn’t she compensate them for your upkeep?”

  “Oh, she does, but Old Father says it is shameful for me to let Sikya take money so that I can lie in bed all day. He says I will earn my way, and since he is in charge of my punishment, so I shall.”

  We talked a while longer about things of no consequence, and I reveled in the kinship I felt with her. It had been too long since I had someone other than my brother for conversation. Edan had been my best friend, always, but he was also a male and failed to grasp feminine logic at the best of times.

  Asher, well, his grip might have been too tight.

  As though the thought had summoned him, Asher called a greeting from outside the door.

  Pascale invited him to enter, but he politely declined.

  “I should go.” I straightened my dress in the mirror. “I have a meeting with Old Father.”

  She gave my fingers a squeeze. “Visit me tomorrow, all right?”

  “I’ll do that.” My chest expanded. To have a friend, what a novel concept. “I’ll see you then.”

  When I ducked outside, the day was stifling and humid and made me long for shade.

  “Making plans,” Asher said by way of greeting.

  I hesitated. “I suppose I am.”

  Though Pascale was wild, I enjoyed her company. Chatting may not further my goals to leave a memoir for Henri, but she was the ideal candidate to protect such documents until he claimed them. I could leave them with Old Father, but my loyalty was to Henri, and I trusted Pascale’s would be too.

  “I’m happy you’re happy.” He ran a knuckle down my cheek. “It looks good on you.”

  The flush that rose to greet his fingers chilled beneath my skin.

  I’m happy you’re happy… It was one of Edan’s favorite phrases.

  When had my happiness not been his goal? It had been for as long as I could remember.

  Sometimes I wondered if that codependency wasn’t what had drawn Idra to me, what continued to attract her. Surely she must understand Edan and my bond had been forged by blood and by tears. It was sealed by the bitter sting of our failures and the too-brief taste of our sweet victories, such as they had been. You couldn’t simply will yourself into the part of a heart occupied by someone else.

  As a Necrita, such concepts might be beyond Idra’s grasp. She was their queen. She craved their adoration. She demanded utter subservience and brooked no arguments with her created daughters. It should have been easier for me to bend my knees than anyone. But when she gave me the gift of her people, when she ripped the collar from my neck, she unfettered my soul, and it flew on the wings she had given me. Until then, I never considered how much simpler it must be to lure a wild creature with no concept of confinement into its first cage than it was to pen a creature who knew the taste of metal bars between its teeth, who knew the distances between the walls and the door by its footsteps.

  I was such a creature, and I would never go gently to another master or enter another cage again.

  Chapter Eight

  The walk to Old Father’s felt too brief for the distance we had to cover. Pascale had been a pleasant diversion. Now was time to focus on my goal of winning Old Father’s blessing to my cause.

  Biting my thumbnail, I hissed between my teeth when blood hit my tongue.

  “Nervous,” I mumbled. The thought of revealing my secrets gnawed on me.

  “Old Father is fair.” Asher cupped my shoulder. “He will help you if he can.”

  Exerting gentle pressure, he pulled me to a stop while he held and examined my finger.

  I sighed at his intensive examination. “It’s barely bleeding.”

  His eyebrows lifted in absolute seriousness.

  “It will stop on its own in a minute.”

  His mouth enveloped my fingertip, his tongue swirling over the sore spot. His teeth raked across my knuckle, and heat kindled inside of me. His dark gaze challenged me to try, daring me to stop him.

  “That’s not—” I cleared my throat. “I might be contagious.”

  The thought should have sobered him. It did me. I slid my finger past his lips.

  “I’ve been taking Henri’s plague preventative for months,” he informed me. “I’m safe.”

  “Oh.”

  “We should go.” He placed his hand at my lower back. “Old Father is waiting.”

  Ignoring the twitch in my wings, I let him guide me. “What do you think he’ll want in return?”

  “I’m not sure.” Asher sounded certain about one thing. “It won’t be what you expect.”

  That sounded ominous enough. Both in Fortunia and Erania, gold was the prefer
red currency. I had a little. Edan had been guarding the rest.

  What might a spirit walker ask of me? What did I have of any value to a male of his stature?

  Long before we reached Old Father’s home, we spotted him reclining in a rocking chair beneath the shade of the lone tree in his front yard. His head was tilted back, his eyes drooped shut and his mouth hung open. His snores were rhythmic and deep, and no one passing by paid any mind to his napping.

  Wishövi sat with his back against the tree’s trunk. He held a knife and whittled a piece of soap.

  “Is now a bad time?” I whispered to him.

  Old Father woke with a snort then blinked away his confusion. “I have been expecting you.”

  “We can come back later,” I offered, “after you’ve finished your nap.”

  He frowned. “Who was napping?”

  The boy at his feet chuckled.

  Old Father had slept with his walking stick across his lap. He lifted it now and thumped Wishövi on the shoulder. While the boy muttered, I made a mental note to avoid the elder’s weapon of choice.

  “Help an old grump to his feet.” He reached one hand for each of us. “Don’t just stand there.”

  Asher rushed forward and took Old Father by his elbow, and together we pulled him to stand.

  The elder grunted while he settled into his stoop over his walking stick.

  Asher walked ahead of us, pushing aside the rug covering the door so Old Father could enter.

  I stopped beside Wishövi. “Are you coming inside?”

  “Not today.” He lifted an ursus carved of soap. “I’ll be out here if he needs me.”

  I ducked under Asher’s arm and entered the modest front room of Old Father’s home. His floors were compact dirt with a large rug in the center. Cushions lined the rectangular edges, and a rocking chair made from bent saplings pinned down the center of the rug. A matching stool stood to one side.

  “Sit.” He gestured toward the cushions. “My old bones chastise me for kneeling this morning. It was expected of me then, but you will both forgive me if I sit in my chair while we three converse.”