Dangerous Talents (39 page)

Celia’s mouth opened and her tongue stroked his. His body tightened and his hands slipped to just above her elbows, massaging the flesh there with his thumbs. Celia tightened her arms around him and he leaned forward, laying her back into the softness of the featherbed.

His heart threatened to choke him. In but a few candlemarks he’d been terrified for her, relieved, and ridden by guilt. Now she was safe and whole and opening her arms to him. Dahleven tenderly kissed his way down her shoulder. Celia lowered the covers to her waist and he continued to her breast, encouraged by the way Celia arched as his tongue laved her nipple.

“Yes.” Celia’s fingers threaded through his hair as he kissed his way over to her other breast. She wriggled against him and his cock throbbed, anxious to be free.

A knock at the door brought his head up, then he lowered it to rest his forehead against her shoulder in frustration.

Celia groaned, then huffed a small chuckle. “At least this interruption is less violent than our last one.”

He was amazed she could find humor after all she’d been through.

The second knock was more forceful. He sat up, and Celia pulled the covers to her shoulders, but not before he glimpsed the bruises marring the tender flesh he’d just been kissing. He had just enough time to think about killing the whoreson who’d hurt her before a third, more demanding knock drew an answer from him. “Enter!”

Thora came in with a servant bearing a laden tray and a scalding expression on her face. Dahleven almost felt like he was fifteen again and caught with his sister’s maid. The girl had been willing enough, and older than he, but the event had precipitated a stern lecture from his father about not abusing the privilege of his position. Thora looked like she wanted to do more than lecture.

The servant put the tray on the table by the bed. There looked to be enough food for six instead of two, even if one of them was in Emergence.

Thora’s manner gave the impression she intended to stay. Dahleven was about to invite her to leave again when she said, “Kon Neven wants to speak to Lady Celia after she’s eaten.”

“Now?” Celia exclaimed.

“It’s nearly midnight!” Dahleven protested.

“I can tell time, Lord Dahleven. And so can your father,” Thora snapped.

What is Father thinking
? “Celia, I…” What could he say? He couldn’t, wouldn’t, undermine his father’s authority, even if he didn’t agree with his methods. “I regret I can’t join you at supper. Take your time, eat your fill. And don’t let my father upset you.”

Dahleven shut the door gently behind him and strode purposefully to Neven’s chambers. This time he’d be present and visible during the interview.

*

Cele stepped into Neven’s chambers, trying to look more confident than she felt. The heavy embroidered skirts of her green gown swished around her ankles. She’d chosen the dress because she knew it brought out the color of her eyes. She might be going back into the lion’s den, but she’d go with her head held high. The ivory lace that Dahleven had bought for her was draped over her head and shoulders like a mantilla. She’d worn it to give her a little extra courage, and when she saw Dahleven’s eyes widen in a subtle smile, she was glad she had.

As usual, Neven sat far from the door.

Gris spoke for him. “Your
ordeal
doesn’t seem to have harmed you seriously, Lady Celia.” Gris’s tone turned his comment into a provocation. “I’m sure we’re
all
grateful for that.”

I can show you my bruises if you’d like
. Cele glanced at Dahleven, who stood behind Neven. He nodded his encouragement almost imperceptibly.

Although she would just as soon have spit as speak to Gris, Cele answered civilly. “Thank you. I know how much that means, coming from you.”

Ragni, standing beside Dahleven, suppressed a smile, but not before the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Gris scowled, but continued in a neutral tone. “We’re concerned for your safety, Lady Celia, and the safety of all who live in Quartzholm. Tell us
everything
that happened today, so we can prevent its recurrence.”

Jorund had warned her to expect questions, but she thought she’d have a little longer to practice her story. Overnight, at least. But Neven hadn’t granted her that time, so she told the truth. Most of it. Beginning with her abduction from the bathing room.
Neven must know most of it already, unless his men were too afraid of him to report their failure to kill me
.

Gris interrupted almost immediately. “How many men did you see after you climbed down the ladder?”

“I told you, they lowered me with a sling and ropes. I couldn’t move.”

“Yes, of course. How uncomfortable. It’s just as well you couldn’t feel anything.”

“On the contrary. I felt every bump and scrape quite distinctly. I just couldn’t do anything about it.”

She reported her experience straight through, until she got to the part where her muscles returned to normal and the three men put down the rug she’d been rolled in. “They started talking about…about what they were going to do to me. That’s when I got away.”

“They just let you go?” The sneer wasn’t far beneath the surface of Gris’s question.

“No, they didn’t just let me go.” Cele stopped and looked away. The feel of their hands grasping her, the sound of her robe ripping suddenly flooded her senses.

Her stomach roiled, and she swallowed convulsively. Up until this moment she hadn’t really understood why rape victims could feel ashamed for being attacked. Fear surged as she smelled Orlyg’s foul breath again and felt his rough, dirty hand on her breast. She didn’t want anyone to know how he’d touched her. She didn’t want anyone to see in her eyes how he’d made her feel. In that instant before her training had kicked in, she’d felt terrified and helpless. She felt that way again now. Sweat pricked under her arms and her heart raced.

Not an hour ago, she’d reassured Dahleven that she wasn’t angry. But she was. She was furious. Not at Dahleven. At the world, at fate, at all men, for making her feel that fear, for letting this happen at all.

But she was also proud of herself for having the skill to stop them, even if Jorund had saved her in the end. “I had to hurt them first. Then they let me go.”

“There were only three of them? Where were their friends while this little dance was taking place?”

Only three
? Cele forced herself to look Gris in the eyes. “I don’t know. They didn’t confide in me.”

Gris turned away from her for a moment, blocking her view of Neven and Ragni. Dahleven’s face was tight, but he gave her another small nod and Cele used that to steady herself. It was just as Jorund had said, Neven didn’t trust her, and he was using Gris to trick her into a mistake.

The chamberlain turned back to her. “And in all of this, no one said anything about why you were taken?”

“Other than wanting to rape me? No, they didn’t.”

“Are we to believe you were kidnapped only so a few men could dally with you? You’re quite beautiful, Lady Celia, but that’s a lot of trouble to go to for a tumble, even with you.”

Dahleven jerked and drew in a sharp breath, but held steady where he stood, clenching his fists. Ragni scowled.

“How did you really get those bruises?” Gris continued. “Did you put them there yourself to make your story more convincing? Or did your fellow conspirators help you? Did your lover get too rough?”

Involuntarily, Cele covered her breast. The memory of Harve’s nails scraping her thigh as he tore her robe open stabbed through her. Her stomach soured on the food she’d eaten. There were no words sharp enough to reply to those accusations, or lay the sick feeling in her gut to rest.

Is that what Neven believes
?
How could he, if the men were his
? Or was this just his way of diverting suspicion? The Kon’s face was impassive; she couldn’t read it. Would he throw her in the dungeon? Would Dahleven let him? Could he stop it? A hundred movies provided cold, dark images of damp and filthy prisons. Cele shivered.

Ragni glowered, and Dahleven looked like he was going to break a blood vessel, but neither one spoke in her defense. Apparently, Neven’s control was absolute, just as Jorund had said. Still, Cele felt some comfort that she apparently had friends, even if they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, act on her behalf.

“Did your friends attempt to poison Kon Neven?” Gris asked, changing direction. “Or was Jon their intended target?”

Cele stood stunned, uncertain she’d heard correctly. “What?”

Neven rose smoothly from his chair. His voice was resonant and powerful, but Cele didn’t think he was using his mind control. “Thank you, Lady Celia, for helping us understand what happened. Please accept our regrets that any of this occurred. Go now, and rest.”

That was it? He wasn’t throwing her in a cell?
After all of that badgering and bullying, he just says, “Thanks for coming, see ya later
”? Cele stared for a moment, speechless, then slowly she turned to leave. She didn’t perform any courtesy.
I’ll be damned if I curtsy to that bastard.

“One more thing.” Neven’s voice stopped Cele as she neared the door.

She faced Neven again, half expecting the dungeon after all.

“Thank you for saving my grandson. I am in your debt.” Neven bowed deeply.

Cele gaped.
He certainly has a strange way of repaying it
. Then shut her mouth and straightened her shoulders. Neven’s behavior made no sense to her, but in this instance, it didn’t matter. “You’re welcome, Kon Neven, but I didn’t do it for you. I was only thinking of Ari.” Cele paused. “Is he all right?”

As Neven answered his face softened, and Cele saw that the bully loved his grandson. “He’s well, to the delight of his mother and aunt and grandmother. They’ll call on you tomorrow, no doubt, to convey their thanks to you personally. Goodnight.”

Anger and frustration gave Cele strength as she started back to her room, but after a while, the adrenaline that had kept her going during her audience with Neven drained away, leaving only fatigue and confusion. Her feet were dragging and her head was spinning as she returned to her room, escorted by not one, but two guards. She tried to make sense of her situation, but nothing lined up. Gris had grilled her at Neven’s request, and then Neven had graciously thanked her for saving Ari. Neven treated her like a welcome guest, then accused her of attempted murder. Thora sang his praises, but belonged to a secret organization, and Jorund claimed Neven was a tyrant and had the scars to prove it.

Dahleven treated her like she was precious, stirring her to passion, yet he stood by while Neven’s lackey ravaged her.

By the time she reached her room, Cele’s head ached and her thoughts and feelings were thoroughly tangled. She barely spoke two words as Thora helped her to bed.

*

Gris faded into the background as his Talent allowed him to do, and Dahleven had to concentrate to continue glaring at the chamberlain. He flexed his fingers, wishing he could wrap them around Gris’s neck. The Kon’s servant took too much pleasure in his work, in Dahleven’s opinion.

Neven broke Dahleven’s focus, and Gris faded from his awareness, but not his memory. “What of the lady’s story, Ragni?”

His brother unclenched his jaw. “As you’ve probably already guessed, she’s telling the truth about her abduction. If she were lying, she probably wouldn’t have got that bit right about how the
gelemuskel
would feel. I felt no deception from her about that.”

“Will you back off now, Father? She needs our protection, not this persecution,” Dahleven demanded.

“Dahl—” Ragni hesitated. “She
was
kidnapped, but she wasn’t quite straight about everything.”

Dahleven looked at his younger brother. “What are you saying?”

“I think she left something out. It was all tied up in the questions about her escape, but it was clouded by a great deal of fear and anger.”

No. Oh, gods. She said she got away. Before or…after
? Dahleven’s gut twisted tight. She’d been adamant that she hadn’t been raped, and come willingly to his embrace, but she’d also sobbed brokenly in his arms.
What happened
?

“What else?” Neven asked.

“I think she knows more about why she was kidnapped than she’s saying. But when Gris mentioned the attack on her again, fear washed out everything else. Whatever happened, her terror is real.”

“And?” Neven prodded.

“She had nothing to do with Jon’s death. She was completely bewildered by the question.” Ragni rubbed his eyes. “Father, she’s angry with you, but she doesn’t hate you. Not quite. Not yet. Your gratitude for Ari surprised her, touched her. She isn’t closed to you. You could make her an ally.”

Neven shook his head. “I can’t. Not yet.”

*

Cele couldn’t move. Filthy, distorted hands grasped at her while her muscles refused to respond. She couldn’t breathe. A voice grated in the dark, “Miss me, sweetheart
?”

Cele jerked awake, heart pounding. Twisted shadows cast by the lantern Thora had left burning loomed on the wall, then slowly resolved to their normal shapes. She stared at the ceiling as her pulse slowed.

I wish Dahleven were here
. Then she pushed the thought away. It wasn’t a good idea to get more involved with him, no matter how good he made her feel. He was Neven’s son, and she was going home. Even so, she wished he were here with her, making her feel safe.

*

Cele was dressed and finished with breakfast when Thora pressed a small drawstring bag into her hand. “Here, my lady. You’ll be needing this.”

The bag crunched slightly, and when Cele looked within, she found it full of dried flowers and leaves. It made her think of the sachets some women put in their lingerie drawers, only she didn’t have any lingerie here. She looked curiously at Thora. “What for?”

Thora looked at her sternly, then her face softened. “You don’t know, do you? It’s to stop the babies from coming. If you’ve been with a man, make a tea from this for three days just before your monthly is due. It’ll keep the seed from taking root.”