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Authors: Dara Joy

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BOOK: Rital of Proof
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Claudine D'anbere's eyes were light gray. On anyone else, the color combination would have been captivating, imbuing a sense of warmth.

Not on the She-Count.

Her pale eyes were as cold as the frozen ice slabs on the peaks of the Inez ranges. There was no warmth at all in the glinting stare. In fact. Green had often wondered if a touch of madness sparked in their depths.

Of a certain, there was something dark and cruel within her.

Something unforgiven.

Jorlan seemed to sense the same, for he took a seat on the far side of the room, close to Green. Claudine's hard eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments as she registered the silent rejection in his action.

"And how are you faring today, comely Jorlan?" Claudine sat back in her chair, letting her arm drape down over her crossed legs in a studied pose of fashionable nonchalance. Green thought the affectation utterly absurd.

"I am quite well, thank you, She-Count," he responded in a clipped tone that was barely civil.

Claudine ignored his scorn. "I saw you at the soiree the other evening, but you disappeared before I had a chance to come by and say hello."

Green watched the She-Count carefully, worried now for Jorlan.
Had she seen them leave to go out to the gardens?
He would not want Claudine as an enemy. If Claudine realized that Jorlan had been with her... !

But Claudine was focused strictly on Jorlan. It suddenly struck Green that Claudine had assumed Green's presence in the Reynard house was simply in visiting her friend, the Duchene.

Green almost laughed out loud. Claudine rarely made mistakes, especially when it came to Green. Due to Green's renowned penchant for remaining unfastened, Claudine did not even consider her as a rival for the man. It was an irony she welcomed.

She knew exactly how Claudine would react when she found out the truth. Enraged. But she could deal with Claudine. Soon Jorlaa would be willingly under her protection—if all went as she planned.

"I left the gathering early." Jorlan informed the She-Count.

Claudine raised a thin eyebrow. "Really. Were you ill?"

"No."

Jorlan's curt answers were nothing short of rude. The Duchene gave him a warning look out of the corner of her eye. As far as she was concerned, there was never an excuse for bad manners.

Claudine avidly watched Jorlan with the expression of a gluttonous jickne right before it dines. "I was rather surprised to see you at the soiree in the first place, Jorlan. We all know your dislike of such social events."

Jorlan's lips thinned. His dislike of the social season was well known. He had gone to the soiree to appease his grandmother, who had insisted he attend. He was so disgusted with the position he was in that he did not even bother to comment on the She-Count's prodding remark.

An awkward silence filled the room.

The Duchene spoke, alleviating the strange tension.

"Was it a good time, She-Count?"

"Not really. Let us just say that my interest was quickly lost in the evening." She smiled coldly at Jorlan. "Although I had a better time later on. A group of us went over to the Gardens in the Neon Night part of town. Ended up at Number 99. You know the place, don't you, Tamryn? I could swear I've seen you there."

Green knew the place. It was a dank, seedy pit hole that catered to the exotic tastes of damselles for wagering... and other more sordid pursuits. Although Green had been there in the past, she had never availed herself of those dubious pleasures.

She glanced over at Jorlan, who was looking at her with something akin to revulsion. She returned his look with a steady one of her own. Green never explained herself to anyone. The veil could make his own judgments—whatever they were.

"I have been there, yes," she answered truthfully.

Claudine smiled. "Although I've never seen you in the
special
back rooms. I suppose you don't have the gall for that kind of zip."

Jorlan's eyes widened slightly. Claudine had set out to insult her. Little did she know that she had inadvertently elevated her in the fil-Duchene's eyes.

The Duchene fanned herself vigorously, distressed by the outre topic. The holo fan depicted Klee racing wildly across the plains. "What a dreadful place that is! Surely you will catch all kinds of illnesses there, She-Count. I've heard horrendous stories about the men they keep in house. They say they are nothing more than street urchins, some of them there against their will! One wonders what—" The Duchene stopped when she realized her words were not for mixed company. Jorlan should not be hearing this.

"It is nothing of the kind, Duchene. Besides, the
Sparks are thankful for the touch we give them—and well they should be. If it wasn't for us, they'd starve. 'A touch for some touch,' as they say!" Claudine grinned evilly. "Touch" was a slang term that the Slice coyly favored when referring either to coin or a bit of the velvet veil. They thought the play on words terribly clever.

"How fortunate for them that they have you," Green returned coldly. She detested the conditions in the Gardens.

"It's easy for you to talk such," Claudine sneered. "You with the finest pleasurer on Forus! When are you going to tire of River and give him over to the rest of us?"

"She-Count D'anbere, I will remind you that my grandson is in the room," the Duchene sputtered. "You will cease this talk immediately. It is entirely improper!"

Claudine glanced over at Jorlan; he returned her look with a stony expression. It was obvious that the veil hated her, which aroused her further. Claudine loved to deal with hate. She had a special gift with hate. Just the thought of showing Jorlan her talent with the emotion excited her.

She patted her hair and cleared her throat to steady herself. Now was not the time to let her fantasies run wild. She would have him soon enough. She had already made sure of it. "You are right, of course, Duchene. My apologies to you and your grandson."

The Duchene snapped her holofan shut. She wasn't appeased by the apology, although politeness demanded she accept it.

Billings
brought in a refreshment tray and placed it on a table near the She-Count. She left the room with a disdainful sniff aimed in the She-Count's direction.

"How are your lands to the west, Tamryn? I heard you had some trouble there these past months." Claudine availed herself of a sweet from the tray.

"I can't imagine how you could have heard such a thing."
Especially since you were the cause of it.
Green tried to contain her ire over the woman's statement about her pleasurer.
No matter what happens, Claudine, I promise you will never touch River. Never.
Green knew she would never let the vulnerable pleasurer come to harm from such a woman.

Claudine bit into her treat, making a great show of letting it dissolve on her tongue. "Really? That was not the talk among the Slice. The kloobroth has it that you almost went bankrupt trying to save the place. I would have just let the fool thing go. Why risk everything on some backward plantation?"

"That plantation has been in my family for ages. The workers have been with my family for generations. They depend on me for their livelihood, although I don't expect you to understand that."

Claudine waved her hand. "Silly sentimentality if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you."

Claudine paused in the eating of her treat. "Too bad. I'm sure if you had, you would have avoided months of grief." She popped another piece of the sweet into her mouth.

"I'm sure. But since everything is perfectly fine and running smoothly, the topic is moot, isn't it?"

Claudine bit off the final piece with a snap. Green Tamryn had somehow managed to pull her estates out from the brink of ruin! How the Marquelle had done it was nothing short of a miracle, since Claudine herself had set the strength of the trap. The entire scenario was irritating in the extreme, but there was always next time.

Her purpose in this visit had nothing to do with Marquelle Tamryn, who was undoubtedly here to visit her old friend the Duchene.

"I was wondering if your grandson and I might take a ride together, Duchene. There is a Klee I am interested in purchasing and I thought he might advise me."

Jorlan spoke up for himself before his grandmother could answer. "Surely you do not need the advice of a
man
to make such a purchase, She-Count."

"It is well known that you have a gift with the beasts. Your input might be very useful."

As an invitation it was rather insulting. But Claudine would never see it that way.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, She-Count, but I have made other plans this day."

Claudine bristled, seeing through the pale apology. "Perhaps some other time then," she said icily. "Perhaps."

"Definitely." Claudine stood, wasting no time in further formalities now that her target was out of range. "I'm afraid I must be on my way, Duchene."

"So soon?" The Duchene could barely keep the glee from her voice.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I will see you before long, Jorlan." There was a slight threat laced in the promise that seemed to unnerve the Duchene. Green looked at her curiously.

Claudine curtly nodded once at Green, as politeness demanded, before grandly exiting the room.

"By the Slice! That woman is terribly rude!" Anya frowned at the empty doorway.

Green and Jorlan smiled secretly at each other. As if rudeness were the worst of Claudine's offenses.

"I thought I might take a walk in your lovely gardens this morning, Anya; that is, if you don't mind lending me your delightful grandson as guide?"

Anya Reynard glanced over at the "delightful" grandson, who, she assumed, in all probability was about to bolt from the room. She was somewhat surprised to see him nonchalantly examining his toe, apparently in no hurry to leave or in any objection to the Marquelle's request.

The Duchene met Green's eye. She nodded. "I think that would be an excellent idea." Claudine D'anbere's visit had obviously shaken the older woman. A slight tremor shook her blue-veined hand. Green speculated on whether Anya's distress was due to more than just simple dislike for the brash She-Count.

"Come, Jorlan, show me the wonders you have to offer." Her amber eyes twinkled with double meaning as she held out her hand.

His expression was equally subtle as he took her proffered hand and led her out into the bright sunshine.

The gardens at Reynard House were breathtaking.

The Duchene had always had a fondness for flora and had consistently cultivated rare, exotic plants for the garden. There were even a few extremely rare Origin plants whose stemmings had been carefully grafted on to existing plants on Forus. The resultant plants had been gorgeous hybrids—huge roseyal blooms and fragrant lillacia. They had never been able to figure out why Origin plants wouldn't grow directly in Forus soil. It
seemed
as if they should—but they wouldn't germinate. Only one plant had ever been able to, and that had been something of an accidental discovery.

Green inhaled deeply of the lovely morning scents.

"Mmm. How lovely! You are fortunate to be able to enjoy this beauty, Jorlan. Although my mother would have been furious with me for admitting to this, your grandmother's gardens are the best in
Capitol
Town
."

Green's mother and Anya had often engaged in friendly rivalry as to who had the better garden. Green had nostalgically continued the bi-play.

Jorlan smiled, the edges of his lips curling up in provocative way. "Your secret will be safe with me." He gazed down at her out of the corner of his eye with a gleam. "That is until we return and I just happen to mention to my grandmother... " He left the implication unsaid.

"You wouldn't do such a thing! Not about the gardens!" This had been a long-standing and well-loved feud.

"Mmm-hmm." He nodded to put more emphasis to the unpardonable deed.

Her lips twitched. "You scoundrel! I can't believe you would—"

He laughed, a rich, alluring sound, which showcased gleaming white teeth and curved dimples. He was a
charming
scoundrel.

She shook her finger at him. "I'll owe you for that one, be sure."

He arched his brow. "I'm counting on it, Marquelle." The hoarse tone was pure seduction.

Despite her age and experience. Green blushed. Jorlan Marquelle was an engaging package. Every indication she had was that the man was more than even she had surmised. And she rarely underestimated anyone.

He was certainly more playful than she ever would have guessed.

And, for some reason, a reason she could not name, there was the sense that under it all he could be very, very dangerous.
How could a man be dangerous?
She viewed him askance.

"What?" he mouthed.

"I'm wondering about you."

He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. "And just what are you wondering?"

BOOK: Rital of Proof
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