The Traitor's Kiss Page 8

  The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed it would be him, taking advantage of the chance to visit his family and friends in Tennegol. And he wasn’t an officer—there was no limit on when he could be matched. She tried to remember the young man from dinner. He was dark in complexion. Both his and the prince’s mothers had been from Aristel, so that fit. Sage might be able to uncover the truth for her, assuming she hadn’t done too much damage. “Did you talk about anything else with him?”

  “We were actually having a nice chat. He seemed like someone I’d get along with if I didn’t have to act like one of the brides.”

  There was a touch of regret in Sage’s voice, which gratified Darnessa, but something else set off a fine-tuned sense in the matchmaker. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t tell the other soldiers about tonight. It will only make learning about them harder.”

  Sage flinched. Good. After she cooled off she’d see apologizing was necessary. Darnessa just had to let her think it was her own idea.

  “Better get some rest, then,” Darnessa said finally. “We start early tomorrow.”

  Sage nodded wearily. “Good night.”

  Darnessa waited until the door closed behind the girl before letting loose the smile she’d been holding back.

  Oh, wild Sage, I will pair you up yet.

  15

  QUINN WAS STUDYING a parchment covered in notes when Charlie brought him dinner. A glance at the time candle told him the page should have been in bed long ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to scold his brother for trying to take care of him. The plate lay untouched as the officers filed into the room and stood side by side later. He continued frowning at the page for several seconds before placing it on one of the stacks spread around him and looked up.

  “Sorry, just thinking.” The apology was unnecessary, but in the past, he’d been made to wait by officers emphasizing their rank. He considered it a disgusting habit. Grabbing a fresh sheet of parchment, he dipped his quill in the ink pot. “Report.”

  Each man detailed what their teams had learned that day about the grand house and its people, routines, and surrounding land. Quinn covered the page with information and started another before they finished. Finally he tossed the quill down, flexing his right hand. “Very good. Some gaps, but over time everyone will get better at knowing what’s useful.”

  He leaned back in his chair and chewed his lip before continuing. “Servants are often the best sources of information, so have your teams act helpful and ask questions. They can flirt with the maids, but no trifling. Which reminds me…” He sat forward to search for a particular parchment. “Here’s Mouse’s notes on the ladies. Memorize the names and put them to faces tomorrow.”

  Casseck took the page and scanned it. He frowned at the bottom. “Is there a reason there’s so much written on this last one, sir?”

  “Mouse actually talked to her one on one. She was in the library, and he took food to her there.”

  Cass eyed him over the sheet before passing it to Gramwell. Quinn ignored the look.

  Robert squinted over Gramwell’s shoulder. “It says she was writing notes on people. What does that mean?”

  “She was copying notes on various nobles—likes, dislikes, descriptions, properties, that sort of thing. Nothing to cause concern.”

  “Sounds a bit concerning to me, sir.” Cass raised one eyebrow.

  “I thought so, too, at first,” said Quinn. “But then I considered that she’s the lowest lady, so maybe she’s trying to ingratiate herself with the matchmaker by doing some work for her. Mistress Rodelle’s pushing fifty, so maybe it’s getting hard to record everything herself.”

  Gramwell nodded without looking up. “Makes sense, sir.”

  “That’s all I have.” He looked down to signal their meeting was over, but he could tell Casseck had remaining questions. Still, his friend came to attention and saluted with the others. When Robert and Gramwell left, however, Cass stayed and closed the door behind them. He sat in the chair across from Quinn and waited as he pretended to sort a few parchments. They dropped formalities when they were alone, but Casseck always waited for Quinn to initiate it.

  Finally he sat back. “What, Cass?”

  Casseck shrugged. “I was just thinking Mouse hasn’t made a solid contact in the group. I thought that was the goal.”

  “He hasn’t met everyone yet. What’s your point?”

  “Why not Lady Broadmoor?”

  Quinn shifted in his seat. “We planned on one of the maids.”

  “I think she’d be better. By your own assessment she’s got the matchmaker’s ear. Could be handy if there’s trouble.”

  Cass was right. His eyes drifted to Ash’s summary of the last couple days of extended patrols. There was evidence of another Kimisar group out there. He’d have to report it when the next courier came.

  “Besides,” Casseck continued, “it said she struck up a conversation with him. I’m surprised Mouse didn’t jump on that opportunity.”

  “The conversation ended when she implied the army is full of simpletons.”

  “So I read.” Cass leaned forward and put his arms on the table. “But, Alex, that doesn’t make sense. It said she started out friendly and shared her dinner with him, so why the sudden disrespect? Sometimes Mouse is a little oversensitive. Wouldn’t be the first time he jumped to conclusions.”

  Quinn grunted. “Maybe you’re right.” He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and scratched the back of his head. “He left in a huff, though. I don’t imagine she’s eager to speak to him again.”

  “I might be able to intercede, explain that Mouse is a little touchy about schooling because he never learned to read.”

  Quinn considered this for several seconds. “You know, that has potential. If he ever takes her dinner again, she’d feel safe leaving that ledger open around him. He could get a better look at it.”

  “I thought you weren’t worried about it.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

  “Of course not,” Cass agreed. “But then, maybe you doubt Mouse’s ability to hold his own around her. Is she pretty?”

  Quinn bristled. “My soldiers are not here for flirting, and certainly not with Concordium brides.”

  “Of course not,” Cass said again, this time with a hint of a smile. “So should I talk to her tomorrow? Try to smooth things over on Mouse’s behalf?”

  Mouse had made a mess of things. Quinn sighed inwardly. “All right. Give it a try. If it works, we’ll use her as our contact.”

  Casseck stood and stretched. “Just make sure Mouse is ready for his role.” He turned to leave. “And get some sleep, Alex. The next few weeks will be tougher than you think.” He paused with one hand on the door latch. “She’ll need a code name of her own.”

  Quinn tapped his quill on the table as he read over Mouse’s notes for the tenth time. They were like a flock of gabbling birds, these ladies, following the lead of the one in front. “Starling.”

  Cass nodded as he opened the door. “Starlings are smart birds.”

  “I know. Annoying as hell, too.”

  16

  PORTERS CAME FOR the ladies’ trunks early the next morning. Sage was up and ready, but many of the ladies took some prodding. With servants bustling around everywhere, she resisted the urge to get involved and followed her trunk to the outer ward where the line of wagons awaited. The morning was chilly, and she hugged her cloak tighter as she studied every face milling about for the one she’d met last night. After a few minutes, she found him tugging a broad cloth over one of the wagons.

  The rose patterns sewn into the fabric indicated the special status of the travelers, as the design was normally reserved for royal use. There was always a princess named Rose, and many families used variations on the name to imply royal connections—they had a Rosalynn in their own group. Rather ironic that otherwise plants and flowers indicated illegitimate or very low birth, except in her case, but Father had taken pride in f
louting convention.

  Sage watched Ash Carter tie the canopy to the frame. His name declared he was either a bastard or a peasant—or both. Neither bothered her. He was taller than she’d realized, and broad across the shoulders, though not bulky. The subordinate posture he’d worn last night was gone; he moved about his work with confidence and efficiency. She edged around a pile of baggage, wanting to get close enough to speak to him without attracting too much attention. Surely he wouldn’t be rude if she approached with so many others around.

  A rider’s black uniform appeared in front of her, and she looked up into friendly blue eyes on a face capped by straw-colored hair. A lieutenant, judging by the silver bar on his collar.

  “Good morning, my lady,” he said. “Can I help you? You look like you’ve lost something.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” she said, “but I was hoping to speak to the wagon driver. I met him last night, and I think he misunderstood something I said, so I wanted to apologize.”

  The lieutenant glanced over his shoulder. “I heard about that.”

  Had it been that bad? Were all the soldiers now upset with her? The lieutenant didn’t look angry. In fact, he was smiling.

  This was a good opportunity to start learning about the officers for Darnessa, but she wasn’t likely to get anywhere with any of the soldiers until she made things right with Ash Carter. Maybe she could do both.

  The soldier offered his arm. “Let me intercede for you, my lady. I can see you won’t be easy until this is smoothed over. I’m Lieutenant Casseck, by the way.”

  “Thank you.” She took his elbow and let him lead her. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. I’m Sagerra Broadmoor.”

  “You have to understand, my lady,” the lieutenant said as they walked. “Carter’s a little sensitive because he can’t read.”

  She looked up in amazement. “Can’t read?”

  Casseck shrugged. “It’s fairly common among soldiers. They learn mostly by reciting. If you don’t learn to read before joining, you never will.”

  “That’s a shame,” she murmured.

  They reached the wagon just as Carter hopped down from the seat. He saluted the lieutenant, his dark eyes drawn briefly to their linked arms.

  “My wagon is almost ready, sir.” He bowed awkwardly to her and looked up from under straight black brows. “Good morning, my lady. It’s a … pleasure … to see you again.”

  “Lady Sagerra was just telling me about last night,” said Casseck before she could speak. “I believe she’s worried you parted on poor terms.”

  “Yes,” Sage rushed to explain. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Please forgive me, Master Carter.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, my lady.” He hesitated, his words sounding as forced as her own. “I apologize for causing you concern.”

  And there it was again: his diction and speech were positively formal. They didn’t match his education, but Casseck had said he learned by listening. He was obviously smart.

  Carter bowed to her again and began to walk around the wagon. Sage remembered the way he’d looked at that stack of books, realizing how humiliated he must have felt when she rubbed his face in the fact that he knew nothing about them. She knew what Father would have done.

  “I can teach you to read,” she blurted out.

  Carter turned back, his mouth dropping open, and the lieutenant pulled away to look down on her. “That’s very generous of you, my lady,” Casseck said.

  It wasn’t very proper, either, for a lady. Darnessa wouldn’t be happy, but Sage could also use time spent with Carter to learn about the officers. “It’s no trouble at all,” she insisted. “I have little else to do on the journey. And—and perhaps it would help Master Carter’s career prospects. Do you think your captain would approve?”

  Casseck looked more amused than anything else. He covered his mouth with his hand as he looked at Carter. “I think Captain Quinn would thoroughly approve.”

  “Would he?” said Carter. His face was unreadable.

  “I think I can speak for him,” replied Casseck. A tension stretched out between the two. Carter must feel embarrassed that the lieutenant had told her.

  “We can start right away,” said Sage. “I have a slate in my trunk. I can ride on the seat as you drive and show you letters.” She curtsied to Lieutenant Casseck and hurried away before either he or Carter could object. This would be much more fun than cramming in the wagon with a bunch of vipers. It felt like a challenge, too, to see if she could get him reading simple sentences by the time they arrived in Tennegol.

  Sage found her trunk still waiting to be loaded on the cart and unlocked it. As she dug around for her slate, Darnessa appeared at her elbow. “What are you doing?”

  The matchmaker must have been watching. “Apparently that soldier I told you about, Ash Carter, can’t read, so I offered to teach him.” Sage pulled the slate out, speaking rapidly. “If I ride up front with him, it’ll leave more room for you ladies in the back. I can also get some information on the officers.”

  She paused to wait for Darnessa’s objection, but her employer was staring at the two soldiers. Casseck was still talking to Carter, who wore a thoughtful expression. After a few seconds the matchmaker turned back to her.

  “Make sure you wear a hat,” was all she said.

  17

  MOUSE MENTALLY REVIEWED each name as he watched Casseck and Gramwell assist the ladies into the back of the wagons. Lady Broadmoor had vanished, but any minute she’d be needing his help to get up to the driver’s bench, so he waited. Her apology had taken him by surprise, but he’d still thought once Casseck told her he couldn’t read, she’d decide once and for all he wasn’t worth her time. Instead she’d offered to teach him.

  The riders mounted up and there were fewer people on the ground, yet he didn’t see her. Had she changed her mind?

  “Master Carter?” came her low voice, and he spun around, looking for her. It took him a few seconds to realize she was above him, sitting placidly on the bench. A straw hat was tied to her chin by a green ribbon.

  He grabbed the reins from the hook and scrambled up. “How did you get up here?”

  She tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “I climbed up.”

  Gray. Her eyes were gray. And he’d forgotten to say “my lady.”

  “Sorry about this hat,” she said, touching the wide brim and leaning away so he could settle on the bench without bumping into it. “Mistress Rodelle insisted.”

  There were honey-colored freckles he’d not noticed last night scattered across her nose and cheeks. This close, he could also smell the lavender and sage scents in her dress, which he much preferred to the floral perfumes the other women were drenched in. He cleared his throat. “I won’t be able to give your lesson proper attention until we’re steady on the road for a few minutes, my lady.”

  She nodded. “I expected as much. We’ll just do what we can.” She tapped her fingers against the slate on her lap, then folded her hands over it awkwardly.

  The seat was wide enough for both of them, but not cushioned, and he wondered how long it would be before the discomfort got the better of her. Hopefully more than a few hours. He found her slightly intriguing. Still annoying, though. Starling was the perfect name for her.

  When the command came to move out, Ash slapped the reins on his team and the wagon lurched forward. For the next few minutes, the sounds of horses, creaking wheels, and jangling tack echoing off the stone walls around them were too loud for conversation. Once they exited the gate, the noise dropped, but neither spoke as the line of travelers turned onto the road east and spread out a little.

  Starling fidgeted with the slate on her lap again, waiting for him to tell her he was ready to begin. His eyes were focused straight ahead when he finally spoke. “May I ask why you want to teach me, my lady? I can’t repay your kindness.”

  She looked surprised by the question. “I enjoy teaching. I taught some of my cousins t
o read a few years ago.” Her fingers drummed the slate as she paused. “I’m sure there’s some things you could teach me.”

  “Like what? I can’t even read.”

  “Well,” she said, “as you pointed out last night, I don’t know much about the army.”

  An alarm went off in the back of his mind. Why would she want to know about the army?

  “I’ve met only Lieutenant Casseck so far,” she continued. “Who are the other officers?”

  There was no doubt in his mind anything he said would end up in that ledger. Their names weren’t something he could really hide, however, so he pointed out Gramwell and said he was a good rider, neglecting to mention he was an ambassador’s son.

  “And your captain?” She squinted at the dark figure riding near the front of the column. “What’s he like?”

  He shrugged. “Keeps to himself mostly.”

  “I imagine command is lonely.”

  He turned to look at her in surprise. “What makes you say that, my lady?”

  “Well, maybe not on this assignment, but I imagine he has to be ready to order any of his men into certain death.” The right side of her mouth twisted up in a crooked smile. “Not exactly a position for making friends.”

  She was either very perceptive, or she knew much more about military matters than she let on. He wasn’t sure which option was more disconcerting. “I’m ready to begin whenever you are, my lady.”

  “Wonderful,” she said. “Do you know the alphabet song, the one children learn?”

  “A little, my lady, but it’s mostly nonsense to me.”

  “Not after today,” she said firmly, drawing the first set of letters on the slate.