dratted kiss . . . It hung between them like a poised sword. Did he think her shameless? Wanton? Barely adequate?
The walls of the carriage seemed to close around her; the air grew thick in her lungs, the damp clung to her skin. Every jut of the coach irritated her. Every scratch of Gray’s pen made her grit her teeth. She needed to escape. From Gray. From her reckless thoughts. Lose herself in her aspect where instinct took over and painful regrets and unwanted feelings could be outrun. She straightened with sudden inspiration. “We’ve been stuck inside for days. What if we instructed the coach to go on without us while we took a quicker mode of travel?”
He followed the track of her gaze. “You want to shift? I doubt mouse would be much faster.”
She waved off his sarcasm. “Mouse worked to get me into your house unseen, but I was thinking more of, say”—she tilted a winning smile his direction—“eagle?”
“Ahh, still lording your ability to flux over me, are you? How little has changed in the past ten years.”
“Can I help it if I’m unbound by clan aspect and able to assume any form?”
“No, but you don’t have to rub it in.”
She gave a nod toward the coach door. “So, what say you? Stretch our legs and spread our wings for a few miles?”
Gray’s brows lowered, his gaze locked on the scene beyond the glass; though Meeryn had the impression he saw none of it, his thoughts turned far inward. His thumb ran idly up and down the spine of the book he held, his jaw hard with some unknown emotion. “We’ll keep to the road and leave the skies to the ducks.”
“Gray . . .” she began, but he interrupted with a curt, “It’s safer.”
“Pryor has guaranteed your safety. No Ossine enforcer will go against his orders.”
“Perhaps not.” He rolled his cane back and forth between loose fingers. “But I learned through five years of war not to look for trouble. It would find me easily enough without the bother. The same premise holds now. Pryor might seek out a reconciliation, but I don’t fool myself into believing he wouldn’t be relieved if I conveniently disappeared.”
“Then why did you agree to come with me? If you’re right, I’d say that’s searching out heaps of trouble.”
A touch of some expression passed across his face and was gone before she could identify it. Excitement? Desperation? “To make my peace with the duke,” he replied. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
She studied him, wishing she might read the truth behind his words, but the ability to see another’s thoughts was rare among the Imnada. Not even the immense power of Jai Idrish offered her that gift. “I just can’t help wondering . . .”
“What’s that?”
“What your real purpose is?”
This time he did smile, a cool humorless twist of his mouth that made her shiver. “Read the book. The answer’s clear as day.”
* * *
“It’s as the lady N’thuil spoke, sir. His Grace lies ill and close to death in his chambers at Deepings. They don’t expect him to live to the end of the month.” Zeb Doule’s gaze darted around the crowded smoky tavern as if he expected Ossine enforcers to leap through thewindows, swords brandished to skewer him where he stood polishing glasses at the bar.
Gray had hesitated over his decision to meet with the clansman, but he needed information, and Doule, whose brother worked as a groom in the Deepings stables, was a perfect conduit. The more Gray knew about the goings-on at Deepings and the holding, the better he might prepare himself.
He’d waited until almost midnight, when Meeryn would surely be asleep, to sneak out of his room at the posting inn, walk the short distance to this seedy, out-of-the-way tavern, and ask for Doule. The barman had skulked out of the back, his face draining of color when he caught sight of his visitor. It had taken two ales and a cider before he recovered enough to answer Gray’s questions without
The walls of the carriage seemed to close around her; the air grew thick in her lungs, the damp clung to her skin. Every jut of the coach irritated her. Every scratch of Gray’s pen made her grit her teeth. She needed to escape. From Gray. From her reckless thoughts. Lose herself in her aspect where instinct took over and painful regrets and unwanted feelings could be outrun. She straightened with sudden inspiration. “We’ve been stuck inside for days. What if we instructed the coach to go on without us while we took a quicker mode of travel?”
He followed the track of her gaze. “You want to shift? I doubt mouse would be much faster.”
She waved off his sarcasm. “Mouse worked to get me into your house unseen, but I was thinking more of, say”—she tilted a winning smile his direction—“eagle?”
“Ahh, still lording your ability to flux over me, are you? How little has changed in the past ten years.”
“Can I help it if I’m unbound by clan aspect and able to assume any form?”
“No, but you don’t have to rub it in.”
She gave a nod toward the coach door. “So, what say you? Stretch our legs and spread our wings for a few miles?”
Gray’s brows lowered, his gaze locked on the scene beyond the glass; though Meeryn had the impression he saw none of it, his thoughts turned far inward. His thumb ran idly up and down the spine of the book he held, his jaw hard with some unknown emotion. “We’ll keep to the road and leave the skies to the ducks.”
“Gray . . .” she began, but he interrupted with a curt, “It’s safer.”
“Pryor has guaranteed your safety. No Ossine enforcer will go against his orders.”
“Perhaps not.” He rolled his cane back and forth between loose fingers. “But I learned through five years of war not to look for trouble. It would find me easily enough without the bother. The same premise holds now. Pryor might seek out a reconciliation, but I don’t fool myself into believing he wouldn’t be relieved if I conveniently disappeared.”
“Then why did you agree to come with me? If you’re right, I’d say that’s searching out heaps of trouble.”
A touch of some expression passed across his face and was gone before she could identify it. Excitement? Desperation? “To make my peace with the duke,” he replied. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
She studied him, wishing she might read the truth behind his words, but the ability to see another’s thoughts was rare among the Imnada. Not even the immense power of Jai Idrish offered her that gift. “I just can’t help wondering . . .”
“What’s that?”
“What your real purpose is?”
This time he did smile, a cool humorless twist of his mouth that made her shiver. “Read the book. The answer’s clear as day.”
* * *
“It’s as the lady N’thuil spoke, sir. His Grace lies ill and close to death in his chambers at Deepings. They don’t expect him to live to the end of the month.” Zeb Doule’s gaze darted around the crowded smoky tavern as if he expected Ossine enforcers to leap through thewindows, swords brandished to skewer him where he stood polishing glasses at the bar.
Gray had hesitated over his decision to meet with the clansman, but he needed information, and Doule, whose brother worked as a groom in the Deepings stables, was a perfect conduit. The more Gray knew about the goings-on at Deepings and the holding, the better he might prepare himself.
He’d waited until almost midnight, when Meeryn would surely be asleep, to sneak out of his room at the posting inn, walk the short distance to this seedy, out-of-the-way tavern, and ask for Doule. The barman had skulked out of the back, his face draining of color when he caught sight of his visitor. It had taken two ales and a cider before he recovered enough to answer Gray’s questions without
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