The Exiled Queen (41 page)

Han looked back at Rebecca; she’d undergone a transformation. She’d wiped the tears from her face, and the ragged quality was gone from her breathing. Even her hair was in better order. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were still pink, or Han would have never known she’d been crying. She’d tapped into that steel core of hers, pulled herself together, and put on a street face to hide the misery within.

The girlie’s tough, for a blueblood, Han thought. Maybe tough enough to be with me. But something’s eating at her. Should it worry me that she’s so good at keeping secrets?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. I just — I have a lot on my mind already and — it’s just — when I heard about your family and—and the Raggers—I just felt like everything I’d done—or tried to do—was a waste of time.”

“It ambushes me too,” Han said. “It’s like getting run over by an oxcart.”

“How do you even stand it?” She studied his face like she really wanted to know.

“I don’t have much choice, do I?” He shrugged, thinking that, in a way, it helped to share the secret eating at him. It was like lancing a boil—it relieved the pain and pressure. “But I’m not lying down for it. That’s why I’m here. For next time.”

She frowned, biting her lip. “What do you — ?” She jumped and looked up as the server set mugs of cider in front of them, along with steaming bowls of stew.

“I hope stew is all right,” Han said. “I haven’t had anything to eat all day.”

“Stew’s good. I haven’t eaten, either.” She stared down at her dinner, but made no move to take a bite.

Meaning to teach by example, Han spooned up some stew. “It’s good,” he said, with his mouth full. “Sorry,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Sometimes, when he was tired, he just couldn’t play the blueblood role. “I can’t make you, Rebecca, but you’ll probably feel better if you eat.”

She nodded mechanically and took a bite, and then another. Once she got started, she finished it off, washing it down with cider until that too was gone.

“You said you had things on your mind,” Han said, once she’d dropped her spoon into her bowl. “What’s going on?”

She rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers. “I just don’t know what to do. I feel like I should go back home. I — my mother needs me.”

“Why? Is she sick?” Han asked, ordering another cider.

“Well,” Rebecca said, “not exactly. But she’s not herself. And even when she is herself, she’s —” Her voice trailed off, as if she suddenly realized she’d said too much.

“So she’s asked you to come home?”

“No,” Rebecca said. “She told me to stay away. But she may not be thinking clearly. And it may not be in my best interest to stay away.”

“Well,” Han said. “Mind, I don’t know anything about your family. But being here at Oden’s Ford—this is a real opportunity for you, isn’t it?”

She nodded, pushing her empty mug away and pulling Han’s full one toward her.

Better go easy on that, Han thought. Cider isn’t strong drink, but you’re a small person.

“Isn’t there anyone else you can talk to and find out what’s going on?” Han asked. “What about your father?”

“Well, he and my mother don’t always get on,” she said. “And he’s away a lot on business.

“Brothers and sisters?”

“I have a sister,” Rebecca said. “But I think she might be part of the problem.” She paused. “I’m afraid I’ll lose everything if I don’t go back now.”

Han frowned, confused. Then it came to him. Families like Rebecca’s—they had legacies. “You mean they might cut you off? Disinherit you?”

She nodded. “Maybe. It’s a possibility.”

Han’s instincts said she wasn’t telling him everything. It was like peering through a keyhole into a room you wanted to break into. You could see some of what was going on, but there might be a nasty surprise waiting in the part of the room you couldn’t see.

“I don’t know that I can give you advice,” he said. “And I don’t know what you stand to lose.” He reached out and fingered a tendril of her hair. “If you don’t know what your mother wants, you should think about what you want, and the best way to go after it, whether it’s staying here or going back and getting things straight with your mother.”

Rebecca’s face went all cloudy again. “It’s not about what I want,” she said. “I have a lot of other people depending on me.”

“Why can’t it be about what you want—sometimes, anyway?” Han said, closing his hand over hers. “You just got to — you just have to claim it. I’ve learned that nobody’s going to hand you anything. You don’t get what you don’t go after.”

She looked down at their joined hands. “I don’t know whom to trust,” she whispered.

“Trust me,” he said, leaning across the table and kissing her.

The fact was, he wanted Rebecca to stay in Oden’s Ford, and it wasn’t just that he was learning things from her he wouldn’t learn anywhere else.

She was prickly and proud, used to ordering people around and getting her own way. She was smart and opinionated—she could talk the tail off a dog. But she was fiercely kindhearted—she’d cross the street to give a coin to a beggar, and always backed the underdog in any fight. She’d shed tears over Mam and Mari—though she’d never even met them.

She demanded a lot—but demanded even more from herself.

He still held her hand within his, rubbing his thumb over her palm. Her hands were remarkably small, but calloused. Hands that weren’t afraid of hard work. She wore a heavy gold ring on her forefinger, engraved with circling wolves.

Han wanted to see one of those smiles that lit up her eyes. He wanted to see her happy again. He wanted to be the one who made her happy.

He wanted Rebecca Morley in every way. He’d been living like a dedicate for months.

In the end, he walked Rebecca all the way back to Grindell Hall. She was stumble-step sleepy more than anything else, and this time he’d make sure she got home all right.

It wasn’t quite curfew when they arrived at her dormitory. Han meant to deliver Rebecca and take his leave at the door, but the common room was empty.

“Where’s your dorm master?” he asked. If he’d showed up at Hampton with a girlie on his arm, Blevins would’ve been all over them already.

“Don’t have one,” Rebecca mumbled, yawning. “Just Amon. I mean Commander Byrne.”

“Where’s he?”

Rebecca rubbed her temples with the heel of her hand. “Probably already in bed. Or over at the Temple School, visiting Annamaya.” She said this without emotion.

The dormitory had a definite military look about it. For one thing, it was much more orderly than Hampton Hall. “Who else stays here?” Han asked.

“The rest of my triple,” Rebecca said. She took his hand and tugged him toward the stairs. “Come up with me?”

Han hesitated, his heart hammering out a yes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“It’s all right,” she said, her face pinking up a bit. “I room with Hallie and Talia. Talia will be glad to see you—she’s been playing matchmaker, you know. Hallie just got back from the Fells. If she’s still awake, she can tell us the news from home.”

Well, Han thought, I do want to hear the news.

They climbed the narrow stairs, still holding hands, up and up, past the snores emanating from the second-floor sleeping quarters, to the third-floor landing.

Here, there was a small sitting room with a cluster of chairs around a fireplace. An arched doorway led into an adjacent room. It was the kind of place the commander should have. Or the dorm master.

“This puts Hampton to shame,” Han said, looking around.

Rebecca laughed. “It’s supposed to be for the dorm master. There are three female cadets in Grindell, so we share it.”

She pushed open the door to the bedroom, calling, “Hallie? Talia?” Han hoped they weren’t already asleep in there. He hoped they weren’t there at all.

She motioned him forward. “They’re not here.”

Han hesitated in the doorway, looking around. Three single beds were lined up against the wall, each made up with military precision, each with a large trunk at the foot of the bed. Three study desks had been jammed in under the window, for the best light.

Rebecca’s familiar book bag lay on one desk, with her writing implements laid out next to it and the music box centered in a position of honor on the blotter.

“This is posh,” Han said. So much for the rough life in the military.

Rebecca’s purple scarf dangled from a hook by the door. She hung her bag next to it and held out her hand for Han’s.

“You sure I shouldn’t get going?” he said, handing it over. “It’s nearly curfew.”

What was the matter with him? He was never this well behaved.

Rebecca sat down on her bed, practically bouncing on the taut coverlet. She patted the bedclothes beside her. He sat down next to her, sliding his arms around her. He kissed her, and she drew back in surprise, pressing her fingers to her lips, eyes wide. “Your lips seem to be—quite potent tonight.”

“Sorry,” Han said. He took hold of his amulet and allowed power to flow into it. “Let’s try again.” Gingerly, he pressed his lips against hers, eyes open for her reaction.

“That’s better,” she said, winding her arms around his neck. She lay back, pulling him down beside her, pressing against him. He kissed her again, then began working at the buttons of her uniform jacket. He was glad he hadn’t joined the army after all. The military was entirely too fond of buttons.

“You know, I’ve never had a girlie say that to me before,” Han murmured, sliding her jacket from her shoulders and tossing it aside. “That my lips were potent.”

“I say that to all the wizards I kiss,” she said. “I think you should know.”

“I see,” he said, trying hard not to wonder what wizards she’d been kissing. Not Micah Bayar, he thought. Don’t let it be Bayar.

“What’s it like?” he asked.

“What do you mean, what’s it like?” She squinted at him suspiciously.

“Being kissed by a wizard.”

“Why? Haven’t you been?” she asked, looking surprised.

There was Fiona. Han pushed that out of his mind. “Being kissed by a wizard when you’re not one, I mean.”

“Hmmm.” Rebecca scrunched up her face, thinking. “It’s kind of a sizzling sting that goes all the way into your throat, like brandy going down.”

Han pressed his fingers against his own mouth. “Like brandy? Really?”

“And sometimes it goes to your head and —” Her voice trailed off and her eyes narrowed. “Blood of the demon,” she growled, readjusting her shirt. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“No, no,” Han said, snorting with laughter. “I want to know. This is fascinating.”

Picking up her pillow, she smacked him with it. There ensued a wrestling match that destroyed the well-made bed and was nearly Han’s undoing several times. They ended up flushed and laughing, entwined with each other.

Putting one hand on the back of her neck and the other at her waist, he kissed her again, long and slow, since he’d been a long time between kisses and he didn’t know when he’d get back to it again.

He planted quick kisses along Rebecca’s jawline, slid her shirt from her shoulders and kissed her bare skin, raising gooseflesh. She wore a silk camisole under the shirt. He couldn’t help noticing the small rose tattooed above her left breast.

He sat back for a moment, trying to slow his breathing, to control the pounding cadence of his heart. Easy, Alister. Just because you’re eager doesn’t mean she is.

“Rebecca,” he said, resting his forehead against hers, “can we lock the door? Like I said, when I put things aside for the future, they disappear on me.”

“I know,” she said. “But I just — things are already complicated enough. I’m not taking maidenweed and I don’t know where to get any around here. And Hallie and Talia could be back any time.” As if to put the lie to the words, she reached out and untied the neck of his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, sliding her hands inside, caressing his skin. Before he knew it, she was fingering his amulet.

“This is so beautiful,” she whispered, as the piece kindled in her hand. It burned with a greenish light, seeming to make her skin translucent. “I never realized —”

“Rebecca!” Han said, pushing her hand away. “Don’t —”

Light and power exploded between them with a loud crack, leaving Han’s ears ringing and Rebecca sucking on her fingers.

“Are you all right?” Han said anxiously, taking her hand. “Did it burn you or...?”

Rebecca shook her head. “It didn’t even hurt. I —”

Feet pounded up the stairs. The door slammed open and Corporal Amon Byrne stood in the doorway, shirtless, breathing hard, sword drawn.

“Blood of the demon!” Han swore, rolling to his feet.

“Get away from her!” Byrne shouted, advancing with the sword.

Han backed away. Byrne stood between him and the door, but the window was behind him.

“R—Rebecca, are you all right?” Byrne asked, continuing to advance until he was between Han and Rebecca.

“I’m fine, Amon,” Rebecca said, looking from one to the other. “Listen, this is all just a—”

“What’s up, sir?” Three more disheveled cadets peered in at the doorway. When they saw Byrne with his sword drawn, holding Han at bay, they crammed through the doorway like pigs through a gate.

“Take Morley downstairs and stow her someplace safe,” Byrne said, never taking his eyes off Han. “And find her a shirt.”

“Commander Byrne!” Rebecca shouted, standing in her camisole as if she were the general of all the armies. “Stop it at once! Han Alister is my guest.”

Han knew next to nothing about military matters, but he had to think that cadets weren’t allowed to shout at their commanders. Let alone order them around.

Byrne looked from Han to Rebecca and back again. He looked lost for a moment, then his resolve seemed to harden. “Cadet Morley, you know that guests are not allowed in Grindell Hall after curfew. I order you to go immediately to the common room and await disciplinary action while I deal with your guest.”

Han didn’t like his chances with Corporal Byrne. “That’s all right, Corporal Commander,” he said. “No need to deal with me. Good to see you again. I was just going.”

“Han,” Rebecca said. “Wait! You don’t have to go.”