My arm was stiff the next morning. The scratches were long and deeper than I'd thought the night before. Four lines of rough scabs ran from my elbow to my wrist. I found a long-sleeved tunic to wear.
Vance and his friends weren't at the table when I went down for breakfast. Vance's mother was. She smiled. It looked pasted on.
"Good morning, Zeresthina."
"Good morning. How is Charise this morning?"
"Better, but she'll be in the hospital for at least another week. It's good of you to ask."
We were being polite to each other, but the fangs and claws weren't hidden very far. She was quite the hypocrite, pretending to be so upset over the whole incident. I think she really was upset that Charise was hurt. And not me, the inconvenient woman her son dragged home to marry without her approval.
"I have plans today," she said. "I'm afraid I can't help you with the wedding arrangements. However, I have my dressmaker coming here to measure you for your gown. And the other women for their dresses, since most of them are here."
"Wonderful." I put a forkful of food into my mouth to keep from saying anything worse. That answered my question about the friends. They were here for a while, apparently.
"I've left several samples for you to look at. You will need to choose fabrics and flowers for them. I suggest the lavender orchids and the peach silk, but since it is your wedding, it is your decision." She smiled at me again.
I was confident that no matter what I chose they would be wearing peach silk and lavender orchids.
"Thank you for all you're doing," I gushed. "I really don't know what I'd do without you. I would be utterly lost."
"But you're soon going to be part of the family." She patted my hand, the one with the glittering ring on it. "I should be grateful to you for including me."
I had no idea how to not include her, she'd insisted on everything. What she wanted, she got, no matter the price.
She paused, frowning. "But what about your family? Surely you have family somewhere."
The thought of Darus or Jasyn here brought a lump of homesickness to my throat. "They are far away," I said, though I really had no idea where they were. "I don't know how to contact them."
Her eyebrows lifted. "They aren't on the Inner Worlds?"
"No. Last I knew, they were out beyond Viya Station." How far could I drop in her estimation? I decided to really push it. "They're crew on a trading ship. Part of the Gypsy Shellfinder clan."
I watched her lip curl in disdain. "How sweet. Well, I must be going, if I'm not to be late." She beat a hasty retreat.
I chewed my breakfast and wondered what damage I'd just done to myself. She was bound to check me out sooner or later. And she'd find the truth. I was listed as crew, captain, and owner on the Phoenix Rising. With a bit of digging, I was sure she would unearth my connection to Lady Rina and the rest of the Gypsies. I couldn't help who I was.
I finished my breakfast and headed for the end of the mansion I hadn't checked yet, the one where Vance's mother appeared to spend the most time.
Georges wasn't present so I made the most of the opportunity, opening doors and glancing quickly inside. If he did magically materialize behind me, I had an excuse ready. I was looking for the samples Lady Candyce wanted me to look over.
I found a game room, with tables set up for cards. I found more rooms full of furniture designed for sitting in small groups and larger groups. I found one room with almost no chairs in it. The floor was polished wood. I assumed the room was for dancing. I found another room with musical instruments lined up along one wall. I was almost ready to give up when I finally found a room that looked like an office.
There was a desk, a huge piece of massive wood. It was completely clear, no papers or office supplies waiting on top. I went inside the room and shut the door. I rifled through a drawer, finding odds and ends like scissors and writing implements. I saw no sign of a screen anywhere. There was a com unit built unobtrusively into the desk. I debated about calling someone but since I didn't know where I was, I had no idea who I could call.
I turned it on anyway and scrolled through the directory listing. I asked for the Patrol base. It asked me which department I wanted. I couldn't tell it I wanted the undercover Enforcer department, since it didn't officially exist. I was trying to think of the best response when the door opened.
"This room is private," Georges announced haughtily.
"Lady Candyce's study?" I said as innocently as I could. "She wanted me to contact the florist about flowers today and I just couldn't figure out the directory on this." I casually swiped my hand over the screen, deleting my inquiry. "She said something about samples, but I couldn't seem to find them."
His eyes narrowed. "The samples are in the garden room. And I was unaware of an appointment with the florist today. That is scheduled for next week. The dressmaker is coming today."
"Then I must have misunderstood." I got up from the desk. "This house is just so big, I get confused."
"The garden room is this way," Georges said. He took my elbow in an iron grip and steered me out into the hallway. He made me wait while he deliberately locked the study door. I was positive Lady Candyce would be informed of my indiscretion within the hour.
I let Georges escort me down the hallway and into the big plant room. One table was piled with samples of dress fabrics. Two more were covered with pictures of flowers. A third was covered with lace. And yet another was covered with ribbons. The last table in the room, a very long one, held samples of papers.
"Lady Candyce informed me you were to spend the morning here."
"Thank you, Georges."
He left me in the room.
I crossed to the windows, almost screened by the exuberant plant growth. The garden outside wasn't any more inviting than the room. It was pruned and shaped and held three of Vance's friends, including Garret. I felt a perverse satisfaction when I saw the bruise along one side of his face. He deserved it.
I went back to the tables.
There were a full dozen peach satins on the table, along with a smattering of other pastel colors. I picked one at random and set it on top. No, that was too quick. I sat down and laboriously spread out each piece and stared at it for a long five minutes. Time crawled.
I heard giggling voices. I sat very still and hoped they would go away. I didn't have that much luck. The door opened and the women spilled into the room. I made myself smile and greet them.
They crowded around me, picking through the fabric and exclaiming over each piece. I made myself pretend I was interested. Time passed even more slowly.
By lunchtime, we'd been through the fabrics and the ribbons. We'd just started on the lace. They all had strong opinions about everything. I waited until they had all commented and then I picked whatever my hand touched first and declared it was my choice. I felt like an idiot, but it seemed to work. Their rude comments about each other were more frequent than the catty remarks about me.
Georges announced lunch. They moved towards the door. One of them, Ginger, hung back, waiting for me. She eyed my long sleeves.
"Did the cat scratch you or is it something else?" she asked. Her sly sideways glance at my arm told me she thought I had other reasons for hiding my arms. I had no idea what, though.
"The cat. It isn't pretty, but it's just a scratch." I didn't pull up my sleeve to show her. Let her wonder.
Lunch was a noisy affair. Vance sat at one end of the table after putting me at the other. Garret sat near me, deliberately ignoring me. He kept his bruise prominently displayed.
I ate my lunch without saying much. I just smiled and pretended to be enjoying myself. I really didn't like any of them. Vance was quiet as well. He was watching me and pretending not to.
After lunch, Ginger yawned and stretched, showing off her figure. "I'm beat. I think I'll lie down for a while."
There was a general murmur of agreement. They'd stayed up late last night, after all, and were planning on staying up again tonight. I wondered what they did that was actually useful.
"And you, Dace?" Vance asked.
"Dace? I thought your name was Zeresthina," Garret challenged me.
"Just a pet name," Vance said quickly.
"Haruk'shepperet," I said in the language of the Sessimoniss. For some reason their language was clear in my head. The phrase meant son of the non-warrior who cleans up after beasts. I smiled at him.
"Besk Tashneskit." He mangled the pronunciation.
"Heshk Bashnessit," I corrected him.
"Terkat ness sonnuratik," he said.
I couldn't figure out what he was trying to say.
"Does anyone else think it's strange they're gargling at each other?" Ginger asked the group at large.
"It's the language of the Sessimoniss," Vance said. "I was supposed to be going out there next year to negotiate trade agreements with them. Did you know they are the source of skystones?"
"Really?" one of the nameless gigglers, the one who brayed like an animal, said. She fingered her broach, which was a skystone.
"And how do you know it?" Garret asked me. "Vance studied it and since he has a degree in linguistics, we expect such strangeness from him."
"I was their high priestess for a while," I said.
They gawped at me. The woman brayed loudly.
"You had us convinced for a moment there," she said. "I do believe you have the most wicked sense of humor."
"And right now, I have paper samples to examine," I said. "I believe you were going to go lie down?"
"True, I'm exhausted," she said.
I left the room first. I went back into the garden room and stared at the paper laid out neatly on the table.
The door opened after a moment. I looked over, hoping it wasn't the women back to help me. I didn't think I could stand that. It was Vance, and he was alone.
"What was the point of what you called me?" he asked me. "If I translate it correctly, you called me an animal herder of some sort."
"Not quite." I didn't elaborate. "What is the point of having them here all the time?"
"They are my friends. Mother invited them. She wanted you to make friends. I take it you don't care much for them."
"No, I don't," I said as pleasantly as I could. I picked up a piece of paper that looked almost exactly the same as the rest. "Why am I really here, Vance?"
"Because we're getting married."
"Not if your mother gets her say in the matter. She doesn't like me."
"She doesn't know you yet."
I put the paper on the table and picked up another sheet. "She will never like me, Vance. She will never approve of me. I'm not good enough for you."
"No, you're too good for me." He reached for my hand.
I put the paper on the table and moved away from him, out of reach. "Did you really mean to call me drosht fodder?"
"I thought I was telling you how much I love you." His eyes told me it was a lie. He'd been trying to tell me something else, but his grasp of the language was poor.
"What do you think of these?" I said, holding up a paper plucked at random from the table. The conversation was getting too personal. I didn't want to love him, but I could see myself giving up and loving him back. It was easier.
"What's it for?"
"I have no idea."
"Dace, mother is just upset over Charise." He leaned against the table, leaving the space between us. "She wanted me to marry Charise. She had her heart set on it. And to tell the truth, I don't care much for my friends either."
"Then if you're serious about marrying me, let's run away. Go somewhere far, where no one knows either of us."
"I couldn't do that to my mother. And I'm the Second Speaker. I can't run away."
"Then neither can I."
He moved close. He ran his hand down my sleeve. "How's your arm?"
I studied his face. He looked troubled, but he also looked more like the man I'd lived in a cave with.
"Fine," I said, looking away. He was too close. "It's only a scratch."
"I didn't know you cared about cats so much."
"I care about a lot of things, Vance."
He looked to my face, meeting my eyes. He searched them, his face serious.
"Sometimes you care too much."
He cupped my cheek in his hand. He was close enough I could smell the faint scent of his cologne. He traced my lower lip with his thumb. His touch sent tingles through me.
"Why am I here, Vance?" I asked again, my voice barely a breath of a whisper.
He gave me half a grin. His eyes were sad, haunted by something. He didn't answer. He leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead.
"I like the cream parchment," he said and handed me a sheet of paper.
He left me standing in front of the table, staring at the page in my hand.
The room was suddenly stifling. I dropped the paper on the table and fled outside, out into the front garden, as far from Georges' disapproving eyes as I could get.
There was no sign of the cat on the bench. The afternoon heat was brutal. Clouds drifted far to the south, big puffy shadows in the blue sky. I wanted it to rain, to drown me in noise and rushing water. Every day pulled me farther from my goal. It seemed so clear when Commander Leighton explained it to me. Use your position to gain access to the inner circles of society. Find the traitor and you can go. In return they'd find Tayvis, only he was gone beyond their reach. It had been too long and I'd heard nothing.
My last memory of him was the hurt in his eyes as he turned away from me. I pulled my knees up to my chin. He'd walked out on me. Could I be happy with Vance? Only if his mother stayed out of my life.
I heard a cracked meow. The brown cat crouched near my feet. I gently lifted the cat into my lap. It settled down, purring noisily. I stroked it, glad to see it still alive.
"His name is Falada," a man said behind me. He stepped around the end of the bench and leaned on a garden tool. "I've been watching you. You aren't like the others. I saw what you did last night. Who taught you to throw a hook like that?"
"The bully in the orphanage where I grew up," I answered.
The man leaned on his tool, resting his chin on folded hands on the end of the long handle. "Falada means faithful friend. He doesn't trust most people. He's a very good judge of character."
"And you're only talking to me because Falada approves?" I glanced up from the cat to the man.
"Something like that." He looked past me towards the front windows of the house. "Watch your back," he said as he sauntered away into the garden.
I suspected Georges or one of the maids had seen us. Talking to the help was probably forbidden. I sat and petted Falada through the heat of the afternoon.
"Faithful friend," I murmured. The cat twitched an ear. He was asleep on my lap. "Maybe you can tell me what to do." I told the cat everything, my feelings about Vance and my suspicions about his mother. I told the little cat why I was really there, that I doubted a wedding would ever happen. I told the cat about Tayvis and Jasyn and Clark and my ship. I told him about Lowell and my father.
I don't know how much Falada actually understood, but his warm body in my lap made me feel better. I still had no clear idea what I was going to do. Would I marry Vance? Could I live with him for the rest of my life? That future seemed more possible the longer I stayed here. What if I never found the traitor?