Lady of Stone, page 12
“Dinner will be soon,” Countess Carisse said as she left and shut the door.
Thana breathed out and stretched. She’d been holding herself so stiffly that her back was starting to ache. “I’ll have to remember the prince’s lessons on table manners,” she said, and her stomach growled in approval.
Sylph smiled faintly. “Just copy me, and you’ll be fine.” She glanced at the bed, and her cheeks colored as if she’d just realized they had to sleep together. Thana waited for her order to take a blanket and find a spot on the carpet. She’d tell Sylph to take her blanket and shove it. Then they’d fight, and then…
“Left or right?” Sylph asked.
Thana blinked. “Pardon?”
“Side of the bed. Which do you prefer?” She had wide, innocent eyes, but she wasn’t demanding anything. If Thana had been reading her right, that meant she was nervous.
It felt good to not be the only one.
“Oh, um, I’ve never had a side.” She wished her own blush would take a rest. “I’ve only ever slept in single beds.” She stopped before admitting that she’d shared a single bed a time or two, at least for an hour or so, but just the thought made the spirits-cursed blood rush to her face again. She turned away.
“Oh,” Sylph said softly. “Try the right?”
Thana barked a laugh. “Sounds like you’re offering wine.” And everything sounded as if it had a second meaning at the moment. She wanted to bite her cheek to stop talking.
Sylph sat on the left side of the bed. The mattress sagged, lifting her feet off the floor. She gave a delighted little laugh that made Thana want to hold her even more.
And if the mattress sagged that much, they’d both wind up in the middle, thrown together by fate…and an old mattress. Then neither of them could be held responsible if they—
A gong sounded from below, a deep hollow reverberation that made Sylph roll out of bed. “Dinner,” she said, all false brightness that said she might have been thinking about that mattress, too.
Chapter Ten
Sylph tried to control the tension in her body as she descended the stairs. The presence of Thana behind her should have given her some comfort, but then she thought of them sharing a bed, and the anxiety stayed put.
In the palace, the thought of Thana pressed close had made her excited, eager even, despite the differences in their station. Perhaps she hadn’t been upset by it because she’d known that they could never be together. Here, on the run, adrift from their roles, forced into proximity…the possibility seemed right in front of her.
Thrilling, terrifying, all exhilarating feelings she couldn’t recall from her former life.
But she couldn’t dwell on them at the moment. She had to shove her feelings down and put her court face on, and it felt as uncomfortable as cramming herself into a small box. The countess was clearly wary of her and her intentions, and she had to exude an aura of relaxed condescension, or Countess Carisse might become suspicious enough to ask questions, maybe even tell someone she’d seen them.
Her father would make a powerful ally for a countess who feared other nobles. And Countess Carisse might not realize until later that being under his arm was as dangerous as being in front of it.
Sylph schooled her face before entering the dining room, clearing her throat so Thana would also remember to stay calm. The room was as old-fashioned as the rest of the house. Larger than the chilly sitting room, this one reached high into where the second story would be. Exposed wooden beams ran across the space, displaying tattered banners that didn’t brighten the stone walls so much as fade into them, making a palette of drabness.
A long wooden trestle table dominated the room, but it stood empty, leaving a smaller wooden table at the head of the room, the lord or lady’s table. The countess sat at one end with a bearded man on her right, facing the room. If they’d been having dinner when this manor was new, the countess and her honored guests would all be behind the table, facing the room, and the long trestle table would be occupied by the countess’s vassals and men-at-arms.
But the time for nobles keeping their own armies was over, though the Troubles had proved that such troops could be raised quickly if needed.
The countess wore a calm expression, but Sylph could see her true feelings around the edges: the slight pucker between her eyebrows, the pinched corners of her mouth. Maybe she feared Sylph had some mercenaries waiting in the forest, a grab for power on her father’s bloody command. A foolish thought. Her father would never risk her that way, though not for sentimental reasons.
Countess Carisse and her companion rose, the countess gesturing to the other end of the table where two place settings mirrored hers. As she came closer, Sylph’s insides stirred. She felt something from the man, some sense of danger. He peered suspiciously at both her and Thana and leaned toward the countess as if ready to shield her.
A suitor? If he was noble, Sylph would know him. A servant? Surely not. The only reason Thana was allowed to sit with them was because Sylph had lied about her heritage. Well, Sylph took comfort from Thana’s presence. Maybe this man provided similar relief for the countess.
She and Thana weren’t as unique as she’d thought.
“This is Timmony,” the countess said, offering no other explanation. He inclined his head.
Sylph glanced in his direction before pretending to dismiss him. Thana smiled awkwardly, then looked to Sylph. She fought the urge to narrow her eyes as the danger-sense continued, only looking down when the servants served the soup.
The silence was broken only by the sound of spoons against bowls and the occasional slurp from Thana. Sylph might have been amused by the noise, but the warning inside her continued. There had to be a reason she was so ill at ease, and when a memory came to her, she nearly dropped her spoon.
During her brief training session with Thana, she’d felt something similar to this from the table of pyramids. A sort of tingly awareness, but not of any person.
Timmony had a fire pyramid.
Sylph kept eating, hoping the motion didn’t look too wooden. She had to find a way to tell Thana without alarming anyone. Perhaps Timmony was a pyradisté. That might explain his presence. He was here as a protector.
Thana didn’t seem particularly afraid. She had no court face. If she’d sensed the pyramid, she would have given a sign. When their gazes met, Thana’s was only curious.
After the soup, the servants brought a haunch of venison and bowls of greens. When everyone had a portion, Timmony cleared his throat loudly.
Everyone froze as abruptly as if he’d produced his fire pyramid and held it aloft.
“Tell me, Lady Sylph,” he said, the words brittle through a polite facade. “During your stay in Marienne, have you heard any rumors about rogue pyradistés?”
The question was so artless, she might have laughed, but Countess Carisse fixed her with a keen look. Thana sputtered on her wine, and Sylph nearly kicked her under the table. “I am surprised news of such events has spread all the way out here,” Sylph said, hoping to convey that the countess’s estate was so remote as to be beneath Sylph’s notice and therefore safe from her.
“Everyone knows,” Countess Carisse said. “Some pyradistés are dangerous.”
“Are either of you one of them?” Timmony asked, bringing the table to silence again.
Thana froze with a forkful of greens at her mouth and stared at Sylph, an obviously guilty expression on her face. Sylph dabbed her lips with a napkin. If Countess Carisse thought either of them a pyradisté, then their nobility was in question. But surely everyone had heard of Lady Sylph Montague.
Sylph looked Countess Carisse in the eye. “I have heard that some pyradistés are dangerous, but I know none who are. Why would I?” She glanced at Timmony. “I know some nobles employ them, and I wonder what other roles they might fill if they, for instance, eat at their employer’s table.”
She hoped to make the countess uncomfortable enough to change the subject, but Countess Carisse said, “Indeed. If one were to live or dine or travel so accompanied, it would no doubt be for protection from the very threat Timmony just brought up and not because they are looking to cause trouble themselves.”
Sylph put her hands on the table, trying to keep from reaching for that pyramid and making it burst to life, but the more her heart pounded, the stronger the desire to ignite it rose inside her.
“I would expect someone wanting only to defend themselves would not travel with too many offensive pyramids,” Timmony said. The countess briefly turned a glare on him.
Sylph cocked her head. He couldn’t have gone through Thana’s satchel, so he had to have sensed her pyramids, probably with one of the utility pyramids Thana had mentioned before.
“Okay.” Thana put her fork down. “Enough dancing around. First of all, protecting yourself from an attack requires a weapon as well as a shield, but dinner requires neither. So that leads me to my second point.” She put her hands on the table, palms up. “I’m unarmed.”
Both Timmony and Countess Carisse took deep breaths and seemed to relax slightly. Sylph was relieved that the subject might now be dropped and annoyed that Thana had spoken so bluntly. Since she hadn’t said pyradisté, she probably thought she’d been talking in code, but she gave entirely too much information away for Sylph’s liking.
“What happened that’s got you two so nervous?” Thana asked as she took a big mouthful of food.
Sylph wanted to kick her so badly this time that her leg twitched.
Thana looked to Countess Carisse with a wry smile. “Sorry, Countess, but where I’m from, um, north of my cousin here”—she nodded awkwardly at Sylph—“we talk out our worries, especially when we encounter a stranger traveling through who might be bothered by them. If there’s a rampaging bear nearby, we don’t keep mum just because bears are…gauche this season or something.”
The countess stared. Sylph fought the urge to do the same. Timmony’s lips were mashed together, but his eyes were merry, as if he was trying not to laugh.
“How long have you been at court, Miss Theroue?” the countess asked, a smile creeping out.
Thana’s cheeks colored slightly. “A few, um, weeks,” she muttered. “My first trip.”
“Ah.” Countess Carisse nodded and gave Sylph a sympathetic look, but she surely couldn’t believe Thana was both a noble and a pyradisté, even if she was at the bottom of the hierarchy. Maybe she’d decided to let the noble deception go and just pitied Sylph a chatty traveling companion. Sylph displayed her best put-upon look.
* * *
Thana rubbed her temples. She’d started the evening being amused by all the doublespeak and nonconfrontation, but in the end, she had to say something. Timmony had clearly detected her pyramids at some point, but he couldn’t know about Sylph. Thana supposed her lesser noble persona might be crushed, but Timmony and Carisse seemed more relaxed.
“We have heard some rumors about rogue pyradistés,” Carisse said, “from some travelers our groom spoke to. Murder. Explosions. Is it true?”
Thana fought the urge to bite her lip. She waited for Sylph to answer. She wasn’t any good at lying, and Sylph seemed a natural. That was a bit worrying for other reasons, but she didn’t let herself think of them at the moment.
“We’ve heard the rumors, too,” Sylph said. “But it’s hard to know what’s true.”
“Did you ride out today because you feared staying in Marienne?” Timmony asked.
Carisse gave him a tiny frown, but Sylph shrugged as elegantly as she did everything else. “I don’t need to worry about such things.”
Thana frowned. Was that an acknowledgement of Thana’s ability? If so, why didn’t she just say so, for spirits’ sake? But that was just Thana’s nervous aggravation talking.
And the ribbons around her sleeves were cutting off her circulation.
Revealing that she was a pyradisté would probably lead to her real name and position. A noble like Sylph could waste time riding around, but why would she have the monarch’s pyradisté with her? Especially when there was a pyradisté crisis going on. And it seemed as if they hadn’t had any magical troubles out here. Because the new crystal hadn’t come near here? Or was there something else at work? Nothing strange had happened at the academy when the crystal was there, apart from Sylph’s trouble. Maybe the other problems were more than accidents.
As a servant handed around bowls of custard, Carisse and Timmony added another piece to her puzzle: a story they’d heard from a servant who’d been traveling back to Marienne after visiting family in the country. She’d told the servants that a pyradisté in the local lord’s holding had set the house on fire, but afterward, the pyradisté couldn’t be found. The household had assumed he’d perished in the fire, but what if he’d been conducting experiments with the new crystal? Or even just using it? Maybe it only reacted badly to some people, like Sylph. Thana sighed. She didn’t have enough information, but she added this new town to her mental map.
She also wondered where Carisse’s daughter was. Maybe the child never ate with strangers, or maybe she always ate with her nanny while Carisse ate alone or with Timmony, who seemed to care about her more than a paid servant might. By the warm atmosphere, Thana could imagine Carisse, Timmony, and the child together. Maybe if she married him, she wouldn’t have to worry about other nobles trying to steal her land.
Or maybe she feared he’d become a target of those same nobles.
Or she didn’t want to marry a peasant.
Thana fought the urge to sigh. She’d spent too much time in Sylph’s world, like another planet, especially where family was concerned. She’d grown up in a lively foster home manned by a variety of monks. They believed in hands-on learning and frequently took the children into the city for outings. When Thana had met Gunnar on one such trip, she’d thought him just another child and had treated him as such, including him in games, teasing him, and protecting him from the jibes of others. When she’d found out he was a prince, she hadn’t cared. He was already her friend, and he’d needed one.
Like Sylph. She was lonelier than Gunnar had ever been.
When dinner ended, and Thana trailed Sylph upstairs, she rethought their status. They wouldn’t be friends much longer. Once they lay in that monstrous bed together, Thana wouldn’t be able to think of them as friends anymore.
“Since you were caught out at night,” Carisse called after them, “is there anything you need?”
For Sylph, no, but Thana hadn’t had the chance to pack and said, “Anything you can spare would be appreciated.”
Sylph didn’t respond, not speaking even once they were behind closed doors. Thana shifted from foot to foot as Sylph kept her back turned and dug through her pack. The rustling sound seemed loud in the cavernous room. Thana thought of a hundred words but discarded all of them. Maybe they’d end up going to bed in silence and stare at the ceiling all night. Then they’d just be awkward friends.
When someone knocked on the door, Thana jumped, barely holding in a screech. A maid brought in two long nightshirts, soap, a comb, and a basin of hot water. Sylph still didn’t turn, not even when Thana splashed in the basin, washing her face.
Maybe Sylph didn’t want her but couldn’t think of a way to say it, so she was going to paw through her luggage all night. Thana’s stomach soured. Had she imagined every glance, every lip bite, every ounce of heat?
She turned, thinking to take her own advice and speak, but the words died at the sight of Sylph’s bare back. Her golden curls brushed across her tanned shoulders. Lean muscles flowed under her skin, drawing Thana’s eye to a smattering of freckles in the small of her back. Thana’s mouth went dry, and she couldn’t think of anything but what it would be like to run her hands over that skin, to trace those freckles with her lips.
Sylph glanced over her shoulder as if she’d felt Thana’s gaze or heard some small noise of appreciation. She turned, clutching a shirt that barely shielded her naked breasts. Thana waited for a smirk or some other expression that would piss her off, but Sylph only took a step, the shirt dipping a bit lower.
Thana mirrored her step. When Sylph took another, Thana reached for her, determined to embrace her before that shirt could hit the floor.
They touched, and a boom sounded from outside, drowning out Thana’s pounding heart.
* * *
Sylph almost kept reaching for Thana, thinking the fire between them had ignited in a thunderous boom, but Thana broke eye contact and moved toward the door.
Sylph’s breath left in a rush, and she slipped her shirt over her head as goose bumps broke out along her arms. The desire in her belly had probably kept them away until now.
“What was that?” Thana asked, her ear to the door.
Sylph wanted to say, “Who cares. Come back to me.” She had never had a romantic partner and wasn’t quite sure what lovemaking entailed, but she wanted so badly to find out. When their eyes had met, when Sylph had realized her state of undress and how it had spawned such desire in Thana’s eyes, she hadn’t thought once about the difference in their stations.
Curious.
And wonderful.
Worthier of exploration than any feeling she’d ever known.
Someone yelled in the corridor. Thana opened the heavy door, and muffled voices became clearer.
“Is there someone out there, or did the east wing collapse?”
“The grooms are looking.”
“I’m going with them.”
“Timmony, get back here!” That sounded like the countess.
A draft of air rushed through the old house, making the doors shudder.
“I’ll find out what’s going on,” Thana said.
“Wait,” Sylph called.
Thana turned. Her gaze filled Sylph with desire again, but Thana was out the door before she could say or do anything.
