The Lyre Thief Page 34

  “I’m sorry, your highness, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “That’s alright . . . is all that for me?”

  “Yes, your highness.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Mid-morning, your highness.”

  “Already?”

  “Princess Adrina instructed me to let you sleep.”

  “That was . . . kind of her. Do you know if my luggage has found its way here yet?”

  The girl moved closer. She was a slave, with dark hair and a plump, cheerful face. She seemed no older than Charisee. “I put everything away yesterday while you were at dinner, my lady. Is there something specific you wanted to wear today?”

  “I’m not sure. What’s your name?”

  “Brinnie, your highness. Lord Branador sent me to look after you while you’re here in Greenharbour.”

  “He’s your master?”

  She nodded, a little uncomfortable with the question.

  Gods, this would have been my replacement. If Rakaia had stayed, we would have come to Greenharbour together and as soon as I got here, I would have been reassigned at best, sold off in the slave markets at worst, because Frederak Branador had already arranged for his future bride to have a handmaiden of his own choosing.

  She forced a look of idle curiosity, hoping none of her thoughts were reflected on her face. “What’s he like?”

  Brinnie shrugged. “I hardly know him, your highness. He seems nice enough.”

  As if you’d tell me any different, Charisee thought. “Can you find the gray silk skirt and the blue bodice to match it? My blue slippers, too.”

  Brinnie dropped into a low curtsey. “Of course, your highness. But didn’t you want me to serve breakfast first?”

  She smiled. “I’m sure I can manage on my own.”

  The girl looked uncertain, but she curtseyed again and then hurried out of the room to fetch Charisee’s clothes.

  Stretching luxuriously, Charisee smiled, a little amazed she was here and not in chains. Or down in the slave markets waiting for the next auction. She threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. On impulse she dropped to her knees beside the bed and closed her eyes. “Thank you, Lord Jakerlon, for watching over me.”

  “Much as I’d like to take the credit, sweet Charisee, you managed this latest feat of wonder without any help from me.”

  Charisee started with shock and turned to discover the God of Liars lifting the lids on the food cart to see what was on the menu.

  “Is that blue-finned arlen?” he asked, leaning closer to take in the delicious aroma. “My, my, you are an honored guest, aren’t you?”

  “How . . . how did you get in here?”

  “Did you miss the part about me being a god?”

  “But . . .”

  “Deep breaths, Chari,” he advised. “Just take deep breaths. After your amazing performance last night, you’re going to have to get used to me popping in to visit you more often. I don’t think I’ve ever been honored like that before.”

  “But you saved me . . .”

  “Hardly. You saved yourself, sweet thing. Quite a remarkable feat considering it was Wrayan Lightfinger doing the probing. I mean . . . he’s no Harshini, but the lad knows how to get the job done.”

  “But I have no magic. How could I stop him from seeing the truth?”

  “Because the best lies of all, my precious . . .”

  “Are the stone-cold truth,” she finished for him. “I still don’t understand how I survived someone looking into my mind and not learning . . . everything about me.”

  “Wrayan Lightfinger is by no means omnipotent, sugarplum. Ask him about Luciena Mariner sometime.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He shrugged and sniffed the contents of the teapot. “You gave them enough of the truth to satisfy them, and they filled in the rest for themselves, I suspect. Children do it all the time.”

  “Princess Adrina and Wrayan Lightfinger aren’t children.”

  “Of course not. They’re as susceptible to jumping to conclusions as any child, however, which brings us to why I’m here.”

  “To frighten the wits out of me?”

  He smiled. “You’re not frightened of me, honeycomb. Look at you . . . trying to be witty.”

  Charisee climbed to her feet and faced the god who now owned her soul. “Why are you here, Divine One?”

  “To save you from yourself.”

  “But you said I saved myself already.”

  “And you did, buttercup. In the most spectacular fashion. But they know you’re hiding something, and your big sister even thinks she has a fair idea what it is. So in about thirty seconds, when she walks through that door to ask you what you’re hiding from her, you’d better have something to confess.”

  “But I haven’t done anything!” As soon as she said it, Charisee realized how ridiculous her protestation of innocence sounded. “Well . . . except . . . you know . . .”

  Jakerlon smiled and replaced the cover on the teapot. “Perhaps the assassin could be of some help.”

  The door to the bedroom opened before Charisee had a chance to say another word, and sure enough, as Jakerlon predicted, Adrina walked in.

  “You’re up, I see.”

  She curtseyed to the princess; rather inelegantly given she was wearing a nightdress, although how she came to be wearing a nightdress remained a mystery along with how she came to be in this room.

  Jakerlon was gone, vanishing the moment the door cracked open.

  “Good morning, your highness.”

  “You can call me Adrina, Rakaia. Particularly when we’re in private. Have you eaten yet?”

  “Not yet . . . Adrina . . .”

  The princess closed the door and walked over to the window, throwing the curtains back wide, saying, “Please, don’t let me stop you. It will go cold if you don’t eat it soon.”

  “Thank you.”

  Charisee hurried across to the cart and lifted the first lid to reveal a stack of freshly baked buns glazed with dried fruit. She selected one and took a bite, hoping Adrina would not expect her to talk with her mouth full.

  “I heard you talking to someone as I arrived,” Adrina remarked, turning to lean against the windowsill. She seemed so confident, so sure of herself, and so beautiful. Charisee didn’t think she could ever be like that, not with a dozen lives to pretend she was a real princess.

  “I was talking to my god,” Charisee said.

  The best lies of all are the stone-cold truth.

  “And to which god do you pray, Rakaia?”

  “Whatever god will listen, truth be told, your highness.”

  Adrina laughed. “That’s an excellent philosophy. I should adopt it myself. Did you sleep well?”

  She nodded, concentrating on the bun.

  Adrina’s smile faded. “Are you afraid of me, Rakaia?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. When Adrina did nothing but continue to look at her with a skeptical expression, she added, “A little . . . maybe.”

  That made her sister smile again. “See, isn’t it better when you tell the truth?”

  Charisee nodded and took another bite of the bun, not sure where this was going.

  “Then perhaps we can agree to always tell each other the truth. I won’t lie to you about what your future holds here in Hythria, and you won’t lie to me. About anything.”

  “You had a sorcerer look into my mind to be sure I was being truthful, my lady . . . I mean, Adrina.” Gods, if you keep sounding like a frightened rabbit, she’ll know something is amiss. Charisee swallowed hard, put down the half-eaten bun, and faced Adrina, squaring her shoulders with determination. “Actually, no. I do mean, my lady. Or your highness, or whatever title you’re owed. You’re not treating me like a member of your family. You’re treating me like you suspect I’m an enemy spy. When have I lied to you?” she asked. The best lies of all, after all . . . “I let you probe my thoughts, I haven’t done anything to make you m
istrust me . . .”

  “Ah, now that’s where you’re wrong, Rakaia,” Adrina said, not in the least bit offended, apparently, by Charisee’s defiant manner. “Wrayan was able to establish you haven’t been sent here to murder us all in our beds, true enough. But you are hiding something, and if you ever want to be a part of your new Hythrun family, I want to know what it is.”

  I knew this wasn’t going to last.

  Her defiance began to falter almost as quickly as it flared into life. “I . . . I don’t know what you mean . . .”

  “I’m quite sure you do, Rakaia.”

  “I . . .” I am doomed.

  “Yes?”

  Give it up, Charisee. Tell her the truth and maybe she’ll have you executed painlessly.

  Adrina was growing impatient. “If you don’t tell me, I will make Kiam tell me. And I’ll be more inclined to believe his version of events.”

  Perhaps the assassin could be of some help. That’s what Jakerlon said. Gods, this is not about me being an imposter at all! Wrayan saw I was hiding something about Kiam Miar.

  “Kiam acted with nothing but honor as my escort, your highness.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Adrina agreed. “So what are you hiding about him?”

  The best lies of all are the stone-cold truth.

  “When I said he acted with nothing but honor, I wasn’t lying. He did more than that. He was wonderful. He was kind, considerate . . . and . . . I think I’m in love with him.”

  “Does he reciprocate you feelings?”

  “No.” And that is the stone-cold truth.

  “Have you slept with him?”

  “I tried. He sent me packing.”

  Adrina laughed, but it wasn’t an unkind laugh. If anything, she sounded quite sympathetic. “You poor thing. I really should have sent someone less . . . engaging to collect you, I suppose. I just never thought a sister of mine would look at a common-born assassin as anything but so far beneath her, he wasn’t worth considering.”

  “He may be common-born, my lady, but Kiam is a nobleman at heart.”

  “Oh, my, you do have it bad, don’t you?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “About Kiam? Nothing, provided you promise to put any thought of him out of your head, and stay focused on your future husband. Can you do that?”

  She nodded, unable to believe that was all Adrina expected of her. Where was the tyrant of the harem, feared by all who knew her? Charisee had grown up hearing horror stories about what a first-class bitch Adrina could be. It was the reason Rakaia had admired her so much.

  Maybe Adrina swapped places with someone reasonable along the way, too. Charisee couldn’t help smiling at the thought. “I can try . . . Adrina.”

  Adrina walked across the room to where Charisee was standing. She took Charisee’s hands in hers and smiled encouragingly. “I know this is hard, Rakaia. I’ve been where you are now, believe me. But sometimes you just need to have a little faith things will work out for the best.”

  “Like they did for you?”

  The High Princess shrugged. “I could argue my life at the moment is far more complicated than I’d like, but it’s certainly a better life than the life I expected when Hablet put me on that boat for Karien, all those years ago, to marry Prince Cretin the Cringing.”

  Charisee’s eyes widened. “You called him that?”

  There was a mischievous gleam in Adrina’s eye, as she nodded. “They used to think it was my accent.”

  “That’s . . . terrible. And wonderful.”

  Adrina squeezed her hands. “Are you going to be alright, Rakaia?”

  Charisee nodded. “I’ll do my duty, Adrina. And I won’t seek out Kiam, or do anything else foolish. At least not on purpose.”

  “That’s all anyone can ask of you,” Adrina said, embracing her. And then she stood back and eyed Charisee critically for a moment. “And speaking of your duty, make sure you dress . . . appropriately, this morning.”

  “Appropriate for what?”

  “To meet your new husband’s family.”

  Charisee’s heart skipped a beat. “Lord Branador is here?”

  Adrina shook her head. “No. He won’t be here for another couple of weeks. His son, Braun, is here, however, and Lord Branador’s grandson, Olivah. We’ll be joining them for lunch.”

  Chapter

  49

  “SO, ARE YOU finished babysitting and ready to go back to your day job?” Elin Bane asked as Kiam let himself into the Raven’s office the evening of his return to Greenharbour. He’d been sure the Raven would be in. He never seemed to leave the building.

  “I have no choice but to respond to the command of my High Prince,” Kiam reminded him as accepted Elin’s handshake. “You know that.”

  “Firstly, it wasn’t the High Prince but his wife who ordered you off on this little jaunt to collect her sister,” the Raven said as he resumed his seat, indicating Kiam should take a seat opposite. Broos bounded over to Elin and tried to lick his face. The Raven pushed him away impatiently. “Secondly, your oath to the guild outweighs any and all family ties, even your family—I’m sure you remember that bit when you swore it. And thirdly, what is that wretched dog doing in my office?”

  “He likes you,” Kiam said, calling Broos to heel with a wave of his hand. “And if you’re so worried about my oath, why did you let me go?” Broos padded back to Kiam’s side and dropped to the floor.

  “Because I like the idea of the High Princess owing the guild a favor. How was it?”

  “As you’d expect. What’s been happening here?”

  “You know about the High Prince?”

  Kiam nodded. “Only inasmuch as I was asked to wait in Warrinhaven because Damin was attacked and Adrina didn’t want her sister getting underfoot while she dealt with the aftermath.”

  Elin raised his brow. “Warrinhaven, eh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t Cam Rahan married to . . . ?”

  “Saneyah Eaglespike,” he finished for him. “Yes. He is.”

  “That must have been awkward. Did you say anything?”

  “Say what? ‘Good morning, Lady Saneyah, I’m the assassin who garroted your brother’? Didn’t seem like a very friendly conversation starter.”

  Elin chuckled. “I suppose not. Did she suspect it was you?”

  “She acted like I was infected with Malik’s Curse, but I don’t think it was personal. I think she just despises all assassins on principal. I’m not sure she would have acted any differently if she’d known, to be honest.”

  “Funny how people forget what the dead were really like,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “By all accounts, her brother made her life a living hell and she hated him with a vengeance when he was alive. We certainly weren’t contracted to take him out because of his charm and long list of charitable works. Did you speak to Adrina when you delivered her sister?”

  Kiam shook his head. “I thought she’d rather spend some time with Rakaia first. I was planning to visit her tomorrow.”

  “You mean you came to visit me first? I’m touched, Ky. Next you’ll be wanting to give me a hug.”

  “What happened to Damin’s assassin?” Kiam asked, ignoring the comment. Elin was a hard man, but Kiam had known him all his life and he had been handpicked by Galon Miar to succeed him as Raven. Unfortunately, Elin fancied himself quite the comedian. As there were few people in the world prepared to put the head of the Assassins’ Guild straight on that point, one had to put up with Elin trying to be funny and resist the urge to groan.

  “He’s dead.”

  “So nobody had a chance to interrogate him, then?”

  “Oh, never fear on that score. He was interrogated to within an inch of his life. Quite literally. And what Wrayan Lightfinger couldn’t take from his mind, we persuaded him to reveal by more . . . traditional means.”

  “You tortured him.”

  “We persuaded him it was in his best interest to tell us everythin
g he knew. There were hot pokers involved, I’ll admit. And screaming.”

  “And what did he know?”

  “Sweet fuck all,” Elin said with a sigh. “According to Wrayan he had a song stuck in his head. It wasn’t even anything particularly sinister. Just some children’s nursery rhyme, and that’s all he could remember since returning from leave in Krakandar a couple of months before the attack.”

  “If something happened to him in Krakandar, why wait so long?”

  “Because that’s how long it took before he was in the same room as the High Prince.”

  Kiam frowned. “What do the Harshini say? I mean, surely one of them looked into his mind?”

  “They got no more out of him than Wrayan did.”

  “But there was magic involved.”

  “That’s the consensus,” Elin agreed. “Trouble is, nobody knows how, or why.”

  “And is Damin recovered? I didn’t see him at the palace this morning when I delivered Rakaia, and Adrina’s message was just to come home. She didn’t go into specifics.”

  “Damin is still in a coma.”

  Kiam was on his feet before he realized, heading for the door.

  “Sit down, Kiam!” Elin ordered.

  He stopped with his hand on the door latch, and turned to look at Elin, torn between his loyalty to the Wolfblades and his loyalty to the guild. “He’s my brother, Elin.”

  “Stepbrother,” the Raven reminded him. “And a former stepbrother at that. Besides, unless you know the whereabouts of the demon child, lad, there is nothing you can do for him.”

  With some reluctance, Kiam returned to his seat. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Harshini cured him, Ky. Waggled their magical little fingers and fixed him up good as new.”

  “Then why is he still in a coma?”

  “Because apparently the demon child has done some sort of deal with Death, and he’s holding Damin’s life in trust until this deal—whatever it is—is done.”

  Kiam slumped back his chair. “Are you serious?”