SWNOVELS The Spymaster’s Prize: Chapter 7
Despite the ominous air the borrowed sword put between them, the trip to Samara was wholly uneventful. Cass allowed himself to feel a bit of relief when the city came into view, and though the streets were filled with slush, he walked easily with Elia by his side. All that was left was delivering her home, taking a few coins as a reward, and visiting one of the high-end apothecaries that boasted magic-imbued medicines. Then everything would be over, and she’d never have to deal with him again. By now, she had to be counting down the seconds in her eagerness to be rid of him.
Why was he bothered by the idea she’d be happy to leave? He shouldn’t have cared at all. He scratched the back of his neck and stepped around a puddle in the road.
“Not much farther now,” Elia said so cheerily, it should have lifted his spirits. Instead, it made him feel more miserable than before.
“You’re the one who knows where we’re headed,” he replied. He’d agreed to let her lead the way once they’d reached the city streets, but now he had second thoughts. Not about letting her lead; he wouldn’t have had a clue where to look for her house. Instead, he regretted that he’d followed her into the city at all instead of parting ways the moment she was back in familiar territory.
He hadn’t left the cabin without means to get by. The few Kentorian coins in his pocket wouldn’t go far, but they’d be enough to buy his medicine and a good meal, and he’d slept in worse conditions than a mud-slicked alley. But he’d slept in better conditions, too. The feeling of her warm body nestled close against his sprang to mind. He tore his eyes from her back, but he already felt heat creeping up his neck. After thirty-four summers under the cursed sun, a woman should have been the last thing to render him feeling embarrassed.
It didn’t matter if he’d enjoyed the feeling of her fingers in his hair or her gentle hands against his skin while she sewed up his wound. He’d come to Kentoria to do a job, not to find a woman. The moment that job was over, he’d be gone. What would it matter then? She was a woman of clear prestigious birth, not the sort to run off into the mountains with a stranger, just because he found her pretty.
Elia moved to the side of the street and paused. He followed, the question of whether or not she’d gotten them lost on the tip of his tongue. But she didn’t look lost. Instead, she straightened her coat and smoothed her hair, ruffled her skirts and stomped slush from her boots. He suspected she sought to make herself presentable as they passed through what he recalled as the wealthiest part of the city, so he swallowed his snide remark and offered something kinder instead. “You look fine.”
She paused, then a broad smile lit up her face.
He almost smiled back.
Then she pushed open the gate beside them and stepped into the courtyard of one of the largest houses in the city.
Cass stayed rooted in place. He’d known her family was wealthy. Even without her promises he’d be rewarded, their social station was easy to see in her mannerisms and the quality of her clothing. Now, at the doorstep of one of the most powerful nobles in Samara, he was more sure than ever that he’d made a terrible mistake in coming.
“This way,” Elia called.
It took strength to stop staring at the massive house, but her sweet face was still smiling when his gaze fell to her. She stood in the middle of the walkway with a sparkle in her eyes. Snowflakes made constellations in her hair and across the shoulders of her coat, and the way her expression brightened when she saw she had his full attention threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs.
Somehow, he put one foot in front of the other and followed her to the door.
She let herself in without hesitation, and he supposed it made sense. It was her home, why should she knock or wait for someone to let her in?
“My father may be at his office,” she said as she unbuttoned her coat. “If that’s the case, I’ll find someone to send and fetch him. Mercy, but my toes are cold. I hope I haven’t frozen them.” By how cheerily she delivered the musing, he thought it unlikely.
“Who is that?” a voice asked from somewhere to the side of the grand entryway. An elderly woman in a maidservant’s apron appeared from a hallway and gasped. “Mistress Elia! Oh, by the Light, it is you!”
“Yes, Angene, it’s me.” Elia moved to greet the woman, who took her face in her gnarled hands and looked as if she might cry.
“What? Elia?” another voice exclaimed from elsewhere. This time, it was a man who appeared, but when he emerged from the other room, he froze and set wary eyes on Cass.
That was it. He’d become far too memorable on this trip. “I’ll take my leave,” he said slowly, “now that you’re safely home.”
“Oh, no, Cass, you mustn’t.” Elia spun back and took two steps toward him, just enough to catch him by the hand. “At the very least, let Angene have a look at your bandages.”
“I’ll go to an apothecary,” he said, but the old woman had already stepped forward to take his other hand.
“An injury, has he? Don’t worry, young man, we’ve plenty of fine medicines stocked up.”
“My brothers need them often enough,” Elia said.
The way the young man’s face darkened at that comment made it easy to identify him as one of them. That, Cass decided, would be a problem.
“Who is this, El?” her brother asked, the shadow of suspicion thick in his eyes.
She beamed back. “This is Cass. He rescued me yesterday and kept me safe through the night. Angene, won’t you make a pot of tea? We’ll sit and call for Father so I can tell you both all about it. Mother, too, if she’s up to it. Father is here, isn’t he, Romaric?”
“He’s out,” her brother said flatly. The man’s cold demeanor should have put him off, but Cass found himself staring back, harder than before.
If Elia noticed, she didn’t care. “Well, we’ll send someone for him. Unless you want to go get him yourself, Rom.”
Romaric snorted. “And leave you here? Where were you all night, El? I thought Mother was fit to faint.”
“I’ll tell you about it when Father gets here. Angene, could you see if Mother feels able to come down? When you’re able, of course.” She tugged Cass by the arm, pulling him toward a doorway and the parlor on the other side.
The furnishings gave him pause. They were fine quality, befitting the sort of house they were in, yet Elia looked so comfortable among them that it struck him as odd. It shouldn’t have; she was a noblewoman, he knew that. Yet she’d been just as comfortable in the cozy confines of his shabby little cabin. She’d never complained, either. She’d met every challenge assertively, and though she’d been stubborn and strong-willed in their earliest interactions, she had remained optimistic through every struggle. Her determination and optimism were endearing. And, he realized for the first time, perhaps that was dangerous. His nerves pinged an alert that should have come sooner.
“I really shouldn’t stay,” he said as she guided him to one of the plush couches. She sat down and pulled to try to get him to sit beside her, but he resisted.
Despite Romaric’s protests, the fellow had vanished. Good. Cass had endured enough scrutiny for one morning, he decided. If Elia’s mother came down from wherever she was, he’d ask for his small reward and leave as soon as he could.
“Don’t be silly. You need rest before you go anywhere else, and Angene will have a look at your injury as soon as she’s able.” She tugged again, her touch so frustratingly persuasive that he found himself sinking to the couch. Her face brightened as he settled, then she sobered. “How are you, by the way? I’ve been so eager to get home, I fear I didn’t think of you as I ought. It was a long, hard walk. Are you in pain? We have herbs to add to your tea, if that might help.”
“I’m fine.” Truthfully, his side did hurt something fierce. Shallow as the injury was, it was only minor because of where it was. Everything around it felt bruised, including his ribs. He envisioned the nick one of them might have, courtesy of the dagger, and couldn’t help the urge to touch his side.
Elia gave him a frown that was both skeptical and unimpressed. “You’re a dreadful liar. Look how obvious you’re making it.”
The maid returned through a different door, carrying a tray of fine silver teacups. “Your mother will be down momentarily, and the tea will be ready about then, too. Have we need of anything else, dearest?” The familiarity of the pet name struck Cass as odd. What sort of staff spoke to their mistress that way?
“Might you bring some willow bark for Cass? He can put it in his tea.” Elia patted his arm and offered a sympathetic smile.
He couldn’t bring himself to protest.
“Of course, dearest. I’ll have it right in.” Angene dipped in a curtsy and disappeared again.
A hush fell over the parlor after she was gone.
The urge to leave early and use his own savings to cover his medical expenses returned and Cass touched a hand to his forehead. What was wrong with him? He was never so wishy-washy. His thoughts bounced back and forth between a dozen different ways to handle the situation, but he couldn’t seem to catch any ideas and push them to fruition.
Soft fingers brushed against his brow, chasing away his concerns and making it painfully clear why they existed all at once. Elia leaned close and slid her hand beneath his, her cool palm and fingers flat against his forehead, smoothing away all the creases of worry. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” she said, her voice scarcely more than a whisper. “I know I’ve said thank you, but I feel as if it’s not enough. I never meant for you to come to harm because of me.”
“I don’t blame you,” Cass replied, though the words came out rough. He swallowed and turned toward her, trying to think of some way to soften it, but she caught his gaze and held it, the warm depths of her eyes stealing his voice. Her hand slid from his brow to his cheek, her thumb against the edge of his beard. Her eyes were like the honeyed rye whiskey back home, promising warmth and comfort.
He couldn’t find his voice. It wasn’t like him to lose composure. Yet when she finally broke his gaze and her eyes slid to his lips, every other lucid thought in his head evaporated.
“Here, now,” Angene announced as she returned with another tray. “Just what you both need.”
Cass jerked away from Elia’s touch as if some spell had broken.
She dropped her hand, surprise and confusion wreathing themselves across her face before she brought back her smile, though he thought it less enthusiastic than before. “Thank you, Angene.”
The old woman carried the tray with the teapot and a bowl of herbs to the low table before the couch, where the tray of teacups already waited. “No fever or anything, then?”
“No, so I don’t think it’s inflamed. I cleaned it the best I could, and stitched it with waxed thread when I was done.” Elia leaned forward to transfer some of the herbs to a cup.
“Of course you did, dearest.” The maid stroked the top of Elia’s head with one gnarled hand, then took the teapot. “Sit back, now, let me see to the both of you. I’m sure you both could use a good warming up. See? I’ve brought cinnamon, too.”
“Thank you, Angene. You’re so thoughtful.” Elia dropped a piece into both her cup and the one she’d prepared for him, then held them for the maid to fill. “Where has Rom gone?”
“Off to fetch your father, I believe.”
Cass considered pointing out that had been the suggestion the fellow seemed to most dislike, then thought better of it.
Angene deposited the teapot back on the table. “There. The two of you go ahead and drink, there’s more water on so the tea will keep flowing as long as you please. Warm up a bit while I go help your mother come down.”
Unsure what else to do, Cass murmured a thank you, not knowing whether he meant it for Elia or the maid.
Quiet fell once more and for a fleeting moment, he looked toward the woman beside him. She was no longer looking into his eyes, and she carried on as if that silent exchange had never happened, but there was the slightest tremble in her hands when she offered him his teacup first.
By comparison, his hands were steady, strong, but when his fingers brushed hers against the untarnished silver, he knew it didn’t matter.
His goals, his job, his freedom be cursed.
He was already doomed.