The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses) (63 page)
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Authors: Sharon Shinn
BOOK: The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses)
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“Right now, I would find that a blessing,” Kirra said and reined her horse back. Senneth was still laughing.
Once she had turned the horse over to one of the men and climbed back in the carriage, she finally did fall into a fitful sleep. Even when she woke, even when the caravan came to a halt for an afternoon rest, she did not emerge again. She couldn’t think of anyone in the whole party that she actually could endure. Only one that she even wanted to talk to—and from him she wanted more than conversation.
Let the night fall soon.
ANOTHER small town, another picturesque inn, another convivial dinner in the taproom.
Another illicit trip to her lover’s room, traveling in disguise.
This night, no one intercepted her, no one reprimanded her, no one watched her but the moon. Kirra crept back into her own room an hour or two before dawn, and stood there a moment, listening to the sound of Melly’s even breathing. Remembering Romar, his skin warm against hers, his mouth against her own. Her body was flushed with something more primitive than happiness, more triumphant than love. Satiated desire, perhaps, laced with a greed for more.
She did not know how she would ever be able to give him up.
THEY were making good time the next day until the second carriage lost a wheel. The efficient Colton rounded up the men who had fixed the axle during their last mishap, while Tayse and Justin grumbled about the inconveniences of traveling by cart.
“Won’t take but an hour to fix,” Colton assured them. “We ought to be at Rappen Manor before nightfall.”
“And if we’re not, we’re not,” said Senneth practically. “We can’t do much about it.”
Kirra was considering joining Amalie and Valri for a mid-morning snack when Donnal came bounding up and licked her hand. He was shaped like his familiar black dog today, and he had spent the morning sleeping at Amalie’s feet in her coach. Or so Kirra surmised. He had climbed into that coach right behind Senneth when they embarked, and he had been a hound then. Kirra had noticed.
But now he was frisking around her, restless and obviously wanting her attention. “What?” she demanded, and he responded with a deep bark. He dashed off a few paces, came back, barked again. “You want me to follow you? Is that it?” Another bark signified that she’d understood.
She glanced up to see Cammon watching them, an unreadable expression on his usually open face. “We’re going off for a walk, in case anyone misses us,” she called, and he nodded.
They were passing through an area thickly wooded with those tall, thin pines, and it didn’t take long before the curves of the land and the tangles of the trees hid them from view of their own party. Time for a change. “Hold up a minute,” Kirra said, and pretty soon she was on four feet right beside him, a purebred retriever with gleaming golden fur. Donnal came over to nuzzle her ear, then tore off through the undergrowth.
She instantly followed, and for about thirty glorious minutes they played chase and capture. Donnal happened upon a pool, deep in shadow and tasting of leaves, and they both thirstily lapped up water. Just for a lark, Kirra dove in and splashed from one side of the narrow pond to the other, before leaping out and shaking herself to dry off.
When she looked for Donnal again, he was standing there, shaped like himself.
Not until she followed suit, assuming Kirra’s body and Kirra’s hair, did she read the trouble on his face.
“Donnal,” she said, coming close enough to put her hand on his arm. She could feel the water from her damp hair turning the back of her gown wet. “You look—is something wrong?”
“I’m leaving,” he said.
It was as if he barked like a dog again or spoke in some other language that she could not comprehend. For a moment, she didn’t know what he meant. On some level she had understood him, for her body strung with tension and her heart stopped beating, but her mind could not sort out his words. Could not process them. Could not believe he had said them.
“Leaving?” she repeated finally, her lips stiff. “For where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Danalustrous?”
“Probably not.”
“For how long?”
He merely looked at her.
Now her heart started up again, knocking against her ribs in slow, painful strokes. It was her lungs that stopped functioning this time; she could not take in any air. “You’re leaving me,” she whispered.
He nodded.
She could not ask him why. She knew why. Justin had been right; Donnal knew about Romar. She could not tell him he was wrong; she could not beg him not to go.
Stay, I will give him up for your sake. Stay, it will be different tomorrow
. She had nothing to offer him.
Stay, I will give him up for your sake. Stay, it will be different tomorrow
. She had nothing to offer him.
She could not live if he left her.
There was nothing to say.
She wanted to ask him if she would ever see him again, if he would come find her in six months or a year or ten years, once this infatuation with Romar was past, once her father had bullied her into marrying some eligible Twelfth House lord and she had settled into something like an ordinary life. It would never be the same, of course. She could not expect him to be her companion, her shadow, her pet, her vassal, ever again. But perhaps he would visit her from time to time. Let her know that he was still alive and well. That he had forgiven her. That she still owned at least a tiny portion of his heart.
But she had held on to him for too long without giving him enough in return. She could not now try to make a noose with words to hold him, even part of him.
“I can’t say good-bye,” was all she could manage.
“I love you,” he said, and bent in to kiss her.
He had never kissed her before, and she closed her eyes to imprint the feeling on her lips forever. His mouth was gentle, undemanding. It was clear he was taking away a memory. His hands rose to cup her face; his fingers felt so familiar against her skin. She leaned in, putting more pressure into the kiss, thinking if she could just absorb enough of him, it would not be so bad once he had left.
When he lifted his head, he kept his hands on her face. He was smiling; he looked entirely at peace. “Wild Mother watch you,” he said, then folded both his hands into fists and laid them against his heart.
While she stared at him, abandonment striking her to the soul, he changed into a hawk and launched himself into the air. A moment she could see him, weaving his way out of the dense branches overhead, and then he was out of sight.
His hand to her cheek, his fist to his heart.
I love you, I will love you always.
I love you, I will love you always.
He was gone.
SHE changed herself back into the retriever because she didn’t think she could find the camp if she had to rely on her human senses. Didn’t think she could see the path in front of her for the tears, and the dog, at least, didn’t cry. She didn’t know what she would do when she came upon the caravan, how she would resume human shape and wave cheerily to everyone and climb back into her carriage and survive the day.
She didn’t have to.
Cammon was waiting for her, sitting in a scrap of grass on the side of the road, holding his horse’s reins while the animal took the opportunity to graze. He didn’t scramble to his feet when she trotted up, weary as if she had run from Ghosenhall to Rappengrass in one day. He merely held out a hand, and she ducked her golden head under his fingers, grateful for the smallest gesture of kindness.
“I told Tayse to move on out,” he told her. “Said I’d wait for you. He didn’t want to, but Senneth told him to go ahead. We have to catch up with them before Rappen Manor, though.”
She turned her head and licked the inside of his wrist. He laughed, but his face still showed concern.
“Will you be all right by then?” he asked. “I mean—all right enough to pretend?”
For an answer, she stretched out beside him on the grass and laid her head in his lap, closing her eyes.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he said, slowly pulling one of her silky ears through his fingers. “Well, they’re moving slow. It’ll be easy to catch up. Let’s just sit here for a little while.”
So, perhaps, after all, nothing momentous would occur in Rappengrass. All the excitement had transpired on the road.
CHAPTER
33
33
T
HE caravan made it to Rappen Manor about an hour before sunset. Kirra had taken human shape and slipped inside her own carriage during a late-afternoon break, managing not to speak to anyone except Melly. “Wake me when we arrive,” she said, and closed her eyes. Of course she did not sleep. She felt as if she had been battered by some illness, wracked by fever for days. Her body actually hurt as she shifted position on the cushioned seats.
HE caravan made it to Rappen Manor about an hour before sunset. Kirra had taken human shape and slipped inside her own carriage during a late-afternoon break, managing not to speak to anyone except Melly. “Wake me when we arrive,” she said, and closed her eyes. Of course she did not sleep. She felt as if she had been battered by some illness, wracked by fever for days. Her body actually hurt as she shifted position on the cushioned seats.
It was both a relief and a horror to arrive at Rappen Manor, a gray fortress on high ground closely guarded by soldiers wearing the maroon sash of Rappengrass. A relief because finally she would have some distraction from her own distressed, inchoate thoughts. A horror because now she would actually have to function. Speak. Laugh. Listen. She was not sure she could do it.
Ariane was not awaiting them, but Darryn was, handsome and youthful and smiling. “Majesties! Welcome to my mother’s house. We are so pleased to have you here, both of you. Serra Senneth, serra Casserah—welcome to you as well. Serra Senneth, I know you have visited my mother often, but I do not believe serra Casserah has been to Rappengrass before this.”
Kirra gave him her hand and attempted a smile. “No, it is my first visit to the southern Houses. I am most impressed with your fortifications.”
He laughed. “The story goes that my great-great-great-and-some-odd-greats-grandmother did not feel her near neighbors respected her ability to hold property. So she had the Manor built to withstand attack and siege. There’s been so little war in Gillengaria in recent centuries that I can hardly tell you how well it would hold up today.”
Kirra cast a glance up at the narrow turrets, let her eyes linger on the grilled gate, just now hoisted to allow them to pass. “You might have your chance to find out,” she said softly.
“I hope not,” he replied.
“So do I.”
Darryn turned a little to address them all. “There is a dinner tonight, of course, and afterward there will be music. The ball is the day after tomorrow—we think it will be very grand, and we hope you all enjoy it. I will have you shown to your rooms now. Let me know if there is anything you require.”
Kirra could think of many things she required, none of which Darryn would be able to provide. No one else spoke up with any particular wants, and so they all filed in behind a parade of servants to partake of the hospitality of Rappen Manor.
THE dinner would have been delightful if one had been in the mood to be delighted. Kirra sat between one of Darryn’s brothers and a lesser lord from Fortunalt, both very attractive, and was able to admire the bounty of Ariane’s table even though she could hardly bring herself to choke down a bite. She hoped that Casserah’s legendary coolness would be blamed for her lack of animation, though she worked hard to keep a civil expression on her face.
“You’ve made practically the whole circuit this summer, haven’t you?” the Rappengrass serramar observed at one point. “A little wearing, isn’t it? That’s what Darryn says.”
“I admit I have found myself thinking about home these last few days,” she said. “But I am very much looking forward to your mother’s ball.”
The Fortunalt man looked up. “Traveling with a whole party, aren’t you? The princess, the queen, the regent, and dozens of guards, is that right? Must be hard to find lodging for the night.”
She smiled briefly. “We pay well. That makes it easier.”
“Would drive me mad,” the Fortunalt man said with conviction. “Traveling with all those people. Hard enough to make a trip with just a few companions, because everyone wants to start at a different time, or stop at a different time, and someone’s always wandering off. Can’t imagine how you can get fifty people going the same direction at the same time.”
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