Page 106 of The Ragpicker King
The rain had slowed to a soft whisper, though Lin did not know when. She wrapped her arms around Conor’s neck as he slowly relaxed, his body warm and hard against hers. He was still holding her carefully, his ragged breath easing. He was so close, cradling her, she could not help herself and let her hands run over him gently, touching his hair, his cheek. He kissed the palm of her right hand lazily. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rich and slow. “Never... not ever before...”
Suddenly she felt him go stiff in her arms, like a plank of wood.
“Someone’s out there.” He drew back, letting her slide to the floor, her legs trembling a little as she put weight on them again. She shook her skirts back into place as he looked anxiously toward the folly entrance. “We can’t be seen here,” he said, and she could hear the anxiety in his voice. “I’ll return to the party first, then you can follow.”
The ringing in her ears blocked out his voice. She tried to remember the feeling she’d had just a moment ago, of being safely held, of him being entirely hers. But it was gone, and everything she had made herself forget tonight, everything she had shut away, came rushing back like a wave up the harbor beach.
Of course he was terrified that they would be caught. He could lose Anjelica, lose the alliance with Kutani. She could not even blame him. And yet when she tried to imagine entering the Armory after this, pretending nothing had happened—watching him as he danced with beautiful Anjelica Iruvai and laughed with his noble friends, aware at every moment thatthiswas his life and she had no part in it—she wanted to be sick.
Her stomach turned over. She realized she was shivering, with more than just cold.What in the name of the Goddess have I done?What pain had she opened herself to feel? How could she have been sostupid?
“No,” she said, and her voice sounded strange to her own ears. “Go back to the party, Monseigneur. I cannot stay.”
He spun around instantly. His damp black curls hung in his eyes as he stared at her. “Lin—”
“Don’t.” She stepped away from him; he was gazing at her incredulously, arrested mid-motion, as if he had meant to reach for her, to draw her with him, back to the Armory where he would have no problem whatsoever pretending that he did not know her, because nothing about what had just happened was unusual for him.
“Don’t touch me again,” she whispered, and fled past him, out of the folly, into the driving silver rain.
Mariam
“Who’s there?”
Mariam sits up in bed, clutching her woven coverlet around her. She had been sleeping very lightly, her rest interrupted by the loud rumbling of thunder and intermittent cracks of lightning. When she was younger, she had loved storms, loved standing atop the walls of the Sault with Lin, watching the clouds gather at the horizon, the wind driving them across the sea toward the city like an advancing army. The shadows they cast on the ocean, darkening the waves from blue to black, whipping them into peaks topped with frothy silver.
Now it is different. Sleeping is difficult regardless as she tosses and turns, trying to find the least painful position, the one where it is easiest to breathe. Often she dreams that a black cat has come into her room and curled up on her chest, watching her with unblinking gold eyes as she struggles for breath beneath its weight. The thunder is an irritant now, not a reminder of the glorious power of the sky but an interruption of her precious sleep.
Now, as her eyes adjust to the darkness, she recognizes the source of the rustling that has woken her.
“Lin,” she whispers. She draws aside the curtain covering thewindow beside her bed. The storm has cleared, and moonlight floods the room. She can see her friend clearly. She stands with clasped hands just inside the doorway of Mariam’s room. She is drenched, her silk dress heavy with rainwater, her hair hanging down her back in bedraggled tails.What happened?Mariam wants to demand. Lin had been meant to dance on stars all night, to return to the Sault with a breathless account of glamour and wonders.
But as Mariam looks at Lin, the question dies on her tongue. Lin, the most stubborn, determined person Mariam knows, looks as if she can barely keep all the pieces of herself together.
Mariam puts her arms out. “Come here,” she says, and Lin crawls gratefully onto the bed beside her. She is wet and cold, but Mariam holds her, just as she held her all those years ago when she was an orphaned child whose grandfather had not wanted her.
“Did he hurt you?” Mariam whispers. “Did he hurt you,khum loq?”
“No. But I’m such a fool, Mariam,” Lin whispers. “Such a fool.”
“Hush.” Mariam strokes Lin’s damp hair, whispering, “Hush, my little sister, my little heart,” while outside the window, the rain continues to fall in soft sheets, whispering like silk against the panes.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As soon as Kel had returned to the main ballroom, he was accosted by an anxious Ciprian Cabrol. “Monseigneur.Monseigneur!I need to speak to you.”
Even behind the jackal mask, it was possible to tell that Ciprian’s eyes were bloodshot with anxiety. He had hold of Kel’s sleeve between whitened fingers.Conor’s sleeve,he reminded himself. He was Conor now. He wished he’d had a moment more to adjust himself to it, but it seemed that was not to be.
“Do let go of me, Ciprian,” Kel said pleasantly, and Ciprian snatched his hand back. “Indeed. Let us speak. In fact, I’ve been wondering when you were going to approach me.”
“You have?”
“Oh, yes,” Kel said smoothly. “There should not be too many secrets between a man and his sovereign, don’t you think? And you’ve been keeping quite a lot of secrets, dear Ciprian. For example, I had no idea that you were on such close terms with Elsabet Belmany.”
Ciprian shrank back a little. With his head hung low, he was beginning to resemble less of a vicious jackal and more of a worried terrier. “Wh—what?”
“The Malgasi Princess,” Kel said. “It’s unusual, a merchant family having such a close connection to a foreign Princess, don’t you think?”
“I...” Ciprian reached up to adjust his mask, glancing around as he did so. No one seemed to be paying special attention to them, beyond the regular sort of glances Conor received at any event like this one—a mix of admiration, curiosity, desire. Save that Beatris Cabrol was looking over at her brother, Kel noted, worry very plain on her face.
