Guilty as Sin (31 page)

knew when I saw you—”

“Dax.”

“When I read Mirry
‟
s letter inviting me to join him here, when I saw Fledge and the

children, when Michael kissed me—”

“Dax!”

He blinked. “What?”

“Everyone has feelings like that. Any good warrior learns to trust his gut, though

going off with Michael shows you can still get it wrong. It doesn
‟
t mean—”

“Yes, it does.” He drew her closer. “This is infinitely more than a
feeling
.

Godsdammit, how can I make you understand? Everything…meshes. The pieces click

together and I just
know
.”

Oh gods, he was going to get his heart broken so bad. Lise set her jaw. She
‟
d gone

to a hell of a lot of trouble to save him from Michael, it shouldn
‟
t be any more difficult

to save him from herself. Dax needed someone entirely different, someone special. She

thought hard. Someone like the Aetherii version of Fledge, sweet and principled and

above all, young.

“Don
‟
t tell me you never get it wrong,” she said.

“Sometimes.” His jaw set. “Not often.”

145

“Well, you couldn
‟
t be more wrong this time,” she said. “I don
‟
t want you to be in

love with me, understand?”

His lips took on a stubborn line. “When we kiss, you make the most gorgeous little

noises in your throat.”

Before she could stop herself, she said, “So do you.” They stared at each other.

“I can wait, Lise.” Dax smoothed her hair back with gentle fingers, but his voice

was firm. “I won
‟
t force you or coerce you, but I
‟
m not going away either.”

Lise ripped herself out of his arms. “You still don
‟
t get it, do you?” She glared.

“Veil-it, you
‟
re naïve. I
‟
ve had lovers, plenty of them, and there
‟
s never been any

meshing. No clicking either.” Her lip curled. “I have different priorities, all right? Work

and… I have lots of work.”

“Oh Lise.” He stretched out a hand. Was that
pity
?

She jerked back, out of reach. “Save it.”

“Plenty of lovers, huh?” He glowered. “But no love?”

She raised her chin. “No.”

“Just fucking then?”

She gasped. “Dax!”

He folded muscular arms across that fine chest. “Answer the question.”

He
‟
d make a first-class interrogator, she thought distractedly. Perhaps she should—

“Lise?”

“Yes.” She wouldn
‟
t blush, she wouldn
‟
t. “Of course sex was part of it. Very

pleasant.”

To her surprise, Dax relaxed. The good-humored smile returned. “Well, it
‟
s a place

to start,” he said equably. His tail slithered around her waist in a companionable sort of

way.

“Let
‟
s go, chick.” He urged her toward the door. “I
‟
m starving. Tell me, has the

Winged Envoy heard from the Prince yet? When are we getting the guards?”

146

Dearest Mama,

Would you mind packing up my natal pillows and sending them down to Valaressa with the

next flight? It’s foolish, but I find I miss them, knowing each is stuffed with the feathers of

someone who loves me. Remember the one you made with the abstract design of candlewoods on

it? And don’t forget the small square one in shades of blue. That was Jan’s.

I am well and happy and my studies progress well.

With much love,

Mirry

* * * * *

At sunset, Lise waited outside the pawnshop in Bumble Alley. Irritably, she tapped

her foot, peered at the dusty paper flowers and cracked mugs in the window. Where

was Dax so she could get this over with and get back to the children? Rip the Veil, if it

wasn
‟
t for the Prince of Sere, she wouldn
‟
t be here at all.

The Prince—gods damn him to the seven hells—had sent the Winged Envoy a

politely worded missive, so loaded with flowery excuses that it amounted to a slap in

the face of diplomacy. His guards
‟
duties were too onerous to waste time searching for

naughty children playing some foolish game. Lady Chrizariel had been taken in. Didn
‟
t

she know Hssrda weren
‟
t permitted in the city? On the other hand, if the Winged

Envoy
‟
s staff had tracked down Michael, who was after all a known felon, he would be

delighted to lend his assistance…

Lise had never seen Lady Chriz wear quite that expression before, but she was

godsbedamn sure once was enough.

Brooding, she took two paces forward, two back, swearing under her breath. Dax

had engineered this meeting to include himself, she had no doubt of it. He could hardly

miss the fact she
‟
d been avoiding him all day, not after she
‟
d stalked out of his

bedchamber, slammed her office door so hard the walls vibrated and proceeded to keep

herself and the inhabitants of the Slopes ferociously busy.

Apparently unfazed, Dax had inhaled three breakfasts, one after the other, and

gone straight out, saying Fledge needed him at school and he
‟
d be back. Lise nibbled a

thumbnail, realized she was doing it and shoved her hand in her pocket. She hadn
‟
t

heard that he
‟
d fallen out of the sky, so she had to assume he
‟
d recovered, the idiot.

Michael
‟
s silence had been deafening, though hardly surprising. Believing in him

was a complete waste of time. By the Veil, what was Dax thinking? She snorted.

147

Expecting others to live up to his own high standards was typical of the man, and about

as foolish as it was admirable.

In any case, the short respite from Dax
‟
s company had done her the world of good,

given her time to get her head on straight. She didn
‟
t miss him at all. In fact, she was

managing perfectly well by herself, just like old times. Except that now she was having

waking nightmares about the children. Every time a doxy shook her head or a drunk

gazed at her blankly, she saw little Zemis, bloody and broken in a Hssrda slave camp.

And Bitsy—

She swallowed hard and, for the umpteenth time, searched the sky. Nothing. What

if he
‟
d been detained at the Palace? The Prince
‟
s guards were sticklers for procedure

and notoriously arrogant to boot. If Dax had taken exception to some perceived

injustice… She snarled under her breath, an uneasy fluttering in her stomach. She

would have preferred to pick up the warrant herself, but as the instigator of the

paperwork, he was the only one they
‟
d give it to. Stiff-necked bureaucrats!

A huge shadow passed over her head. Dax dropped out of the darkening sky in

front of her. Lise clamped her tail firmly against her calf and said, “Have you got it?”

Her voice came out a little louder than she
‟
d intended, but thank the Veil it didn
‟
t

shake.

Smiling, Dax bent to brush warm lips across her cheek. “I
‟
m fine, chick,” he said

cheerfully. “Thanks for asking. How are you?”

In the soft spill of light from the shop windows, he looked disgustingly healthy, far

more rested than Lise herself. The injured wing was a little ragged compared with the

good one, but that was all. No bandages.

“Lise?” A large hand cupped her chin and raised her face. He frowned. “There are

shadows under your eyes.”

“I
‟
m perfectly all right. Is that the warrant?” She nodded at the roll of parchment

shoved carelessly into his waistband. “Let me see.”

Dax ignored this. “You
‟
re still not sleeping.” Disapproval deepened his voice.

“Godsdammit, not important.” Lise spun on her heel and shoved through the door.

A bell tinkled faintly.

A shuffle of slippered feet and Ma appeared from behind a curtain, wiping her

hands on an apron covered with large splotchy flowers and dubious stains. The pouchy

eyes widened, her gaze shifting away from Lise to run over Dax from head to heels to

wings.

Ma smiled, jowls wobbling. “I give top price fer featherpearls.” A pause. “An
‟
fer

feathers.”

Before Lise could speak, Dax stepped past her and laid the warrant on the glass

counter. Metallic objects shone cloudily on the shelves beneath. Lise squinted. Chains?

Jewelry? The surface was so scratched as to be opaque.

148

We have a warrant to see Michael
‟
s room,” Dax rumbled. Lise
‟
s brows rose. She

hadn
‟
t known that genial voice could sound so chilly, so controlled. “Complete with the

Royal Seal.” He smoothed it flat with both thumbs.

“Ah.” From somewhere under her voluminous garments, Ma produced a powerful

magnifying glass. “Give it here, dearie.” Her fingers were short and thick, with black

hair on the knuckles. Taking her time, she bent to scrutinize the seal.

Lise stared down at the rolls of fat on Ma
‟
s neck and tried not to breathe the stench

of sweat and sweet powder and unwashed flesh.

“The key?” she said.

Ma straightened with a grunt. “Not so easy.” Her fleshy lips thinned as she pressed

them together. “He changed the lock, didn
‟
he? Without askin
‟
.”

A feathery rustle as Dax shrugged. “I
‟
ll break in.”

Ma brightened. “I got a crowbar ye can hire.”

“No need.”

Lise stepped forward. “A lamp if you please,” she said curtly.

“That
‟
ll be a copper mark.”

“What? Now look here—”

Ma raised the paper to her nose and sniffed it. “Ah, they use the best ink up there in

the Palace. A copper mark, dearie. Take it or leave it.”

“Now that you
‟
ve read the warrant,” said Lise, slow and deliberate, “you will know

it requires the recipient to provide „all possible assistance
‟
on penalty of imprisonment.”

She nodded at her companion. “Go ahead, Dax.”

Reaching up a long arm, he unhooked the nearest lamp from its chain. “This one

will do. After you, Liseriel the Gray.” With a graceful half bow, he indicated the narrow

stairs.

Casting Ma a parting glare, Lise began to climb. But by the time they
‟
d reached the

second floor, she
‟
d recovered sufficiently from her aggravation to notice the silence

behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to find her companion
‟
s unwinking gaze

fixed on her ass.

“Dax!”

“
Mmm.
” Unrepentant, he lifted dancing eyes to hers. “You have the cutest…tail.”

Immediately, the tail in question swished. Fuming, Lise charged up the last two

flights.

The door was barred and chained with a sturdy padlock. Lise stepped aside. “I

hope you know what you
‟
re doing. I refuse to go back down there and ask for a

crowbar.”

Without a word, Dax handed her the lamp and wrapped both fists around the

chain. Slamming the sole of one outsize boot against the door, he heaved, muscles

bunching and rippling under his shirt, wings flaring behind him.

149

Wood creaked and complained. Dax grunted.

Lise
‟
s eyes widened then narrowed. Gods, she
‟
d never seen anything like it for

brute strength applied with intelligence. As Dax worked on the right leverage, nails

stood proud then fell, tinkling away down the stairs.

“Hah!” Breathing hard, he caught the bar in one hand as it dropped away, the chain

and lock in the other.

Not even Jan could have done that, and he was the strongest Aetherii she knew.

Lise stared into Dax
‟
s flushed, triumphant face. “I know an act at the Ten Nations Fair

that could use a strongman,” she said at last.

“Nah,” said Dax, grinning. He propped the bar against the wall. “Here hold this.”

He pressed the padlock and chain into her free hand. “Got better things to do than join

the circus. Like this, for instance.”

Cradling her face in both hands, he bent his head and kissed her, his lips warm and

soft and smooth, his tongue— Oh gods, not again!

It was only after Lise opened her mouth to swear at him that she discovered her

mistake. With a murmur of satisfaction, Dax swept inside, past all her defenses, past all

her common sense. He tasted sweet and dark, like home and adventure and comfort all

rolled into one. Strangely, she
‟
d never felt so safe, had never thought safety was

something she desired.

As she sagged into the tall unyielding body curled over hers, her fingers went lax

and the padlock and chain slid to the floor with a clatter. A strong hand reached down

and grabbed the lamp before she could drop that too.

“
Shh
,” whispered Dax. “I
‟
ve got you.”

She was so afraid it was true.

Reaching behind her, Lise pushed the door open with her fingertips and backed

away from him into the dark space. Almost immediately, her heel caught on something

and she stumbled. “Light the lamp.” Was that her voice, so husky? She
‟
d been aiming

for brisk.

He didn
‟
t answer, but there were a couple of clicks and light flared, warm and

golden. Dax stood before her, the lamp held above his head, sparks leaping about his

hair and plumage in a fiery nimbus. The breath caught in her throat. He looked like a

warrior god. No, a god of justice, of truth.

Then she noticed his face, his pupils widely dilated. He was staring over her

shoulder. His Adam
‟
s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Rip the Veil,” he whispered.

She spun around and her mouth fell open. The chamber glowed with color and

texture, vivid, barbaric. Swathes of fabric covered not only the ceiling but every wall,

length upon length, silks and velvets, buttery yellow juxtaposed with clear turquoise,