“I am no stranger to waiting.” He grinned, and scanned the room—my silent advisors, a handful of courtiers whispering behind fans, a few black-clad wolves guarding the door and windows. He gave me a blithe look, not seeming to notice my twilight gown or my flat, unwelcoming gaze. “This is awfully formal, isn’t it? I wasn’t expecting such a regal welcome.”
“You made a regal arrival,” I said, as serenely as I could manage. “I aimed only to reply in kind.”
Gavin laughed with sudden and breathless astonishment, and I felt the entire room laugh with him. I choked on traitorous mirth—I wasdeterminedto dislike him—and forced my face into neutral lines. But there was something infectious about the way he talked, the way he smiled, the way he breathed—as though sunlight poured off him and made us all the warmer by basking in its presence.
“Touché, lady,” he chuckled, lifting his wrist in the attitude ofpoints awarded. I noticed he did not call medauphine. “I only meant that though I came to offer my help in these difficult times, you seem to have things well in hand here at the palais.”
I sliced my eyes toward Sunder, standing blank and severe between two marble figures frozen forever in contrapposto. The Suicide Twins’ collective condemnation echoed in my ears:
Gavin d’Ars is a devious, manipulative, power-hungry thief.
Here to steal your throne.
It seemed hard to believe that this handsome, cheerful gentleman would be inclined to steal anything, not least the Amber Throne. But Coeur d’Or had taught me that courtiers’ outward faces rarely matched their inner selves.
That, andanyonecould be a thief.
“You needn’t justify your words to me.” I kept my voice light. “Although I do wonder what you mean byhelp?”
Gavin glanced around the room again, discomfort and a creeping air of helplessness in his demeanor.
“Forgive me, cousin. It’s been tides since I’ve been at court, and all these staring faces are making me nervous. Is there somewhere more private where we might get to know each other?”
My sparse court stirred. Beside me, Dowser rose from his chair. Lady Marta clicked her tongue against her teeth. Sunder shifted his weight, amber patterns of light fracturing his face and putting murder in his eyes.
It was an impertinence, if not an affront, and I had no idea how to react to it.
Again I remembered a flower-draped Atrium; stained-glass windows splashing necklaces of gems across a gleaming dais. An ambric throne; a stunning empress; a bouquet of finely scented lords and ladies. And me, in a dirty frock and worn boots, prepared to take what I thought I deserved.
“You read my mind, cousin.” I stood. “I never liked these audiences myself. I could use some fresh air. Will you accompany me on a walk?”
Gavin offered his arm. I took it lightly, and fell in step beside him. Standing this close to him, he smelled like a forge—hot metal and the bitter-ash taste of last Nocturne’s campfire. As we passed through the doors, Sunder peeled away from the wall and trailed us.
“That’s not necessary, commandant,” I said. “I’m sure you have more important matters to attend to. Perhaps just—?”
I nodded to my dedicated wolves, severe in their Belsyre black.
Sunder’s shoulders looked like they might tear the seams of his jacket. But he motioned for Calvet and Karine to follow us at a distance. A pair of Gavin’s soldats joined them, as well as the middle-aged man with the hatchet face.
I turned back to find Gavin looking at me, his emotions a visible vocabulary written on his face. “What is it?”
“Sunder de Vere as your commandant?” Gavin let out a low whistle. “I’d pay good kembric livres to know how that came about.”
“You really don’t stand on ceremony, do you?” Curiosity burned through me at yet another mention of the mysterious animosity between Gavin and the Suicide Twins, but I bit my tongue. We passed along the corridor through a rose-draped terrace, then beyond to the pillar-lined Esplanade looking out over the gardens.
“From what I heard,” he said carefully, “neither did you.”
“No, I suppose I didn’t.” I wasn’t oblivious to his use of the past tense. “How quickly things change. And how quickly we fall into the habits of our forebears. Good and bad.”
“Did Severinehaveany good habits?”
I stopped, dropping my hand from his arm and turning to look at him straight on. He was smiling broadly, which made me think the quip might have been meant as a joke. But then again, so far I hadn’t seen this handsome boynotsmiling. I met his eyes—a startling shade of blue shot through with veins of kembric—and tried to read the unfamiliar lines of his face.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” I let an edge of dristic creep into my tone. “You seem to know much more about me than I you.”
“Scion, I’m sorry.” He held up an apologetic hand. “I’m terrible at this kind of thing. It’s one of the numerous reasons I left court after barely a tide. I couldn’t keep up with the gossip or the intrigue, and I was always telling other peoples’ secrets by accident or saying exactly the wrong thing. Whatever cachet the Sabourin name lent me ran out extremely quickly. Can we begin again?”
I surprised myself by laughing. I couldn’t fault him for his bewilderment at court. “Why not?”
