That made him laugh, suddenly and with joyful surprise. Smiling brought some color back to his face, and when he put his hand on my waist, pulled me a bit closer, and wrapped his other hand around mine, I felt him relax. The very air around him seemed to let out its breath.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. He finally looked down at me, his green eyes softer than I’d ever seen them. “For that, and for this.”
“You can repay me by helping me find Farrin after this dance is over.”
“One dance?” he asked as we spun into the waltz. With each gliding step, he seemed to become more like himself. “You wound me, Lady Mara. That’s all you’ll give me?”
“Until you prove yourself worthy of more.”
“Will proving myself worthy to you involve me finding new friends?”
I laughed at that, which startled me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed. I wasn’t used to the sound. It was like hearing myself suddenly speak in a different language.
“It certainly won’t hurt your chances,” I replied. “Or at the very least, allow me to put the current ones through a rigorous training course that will make them never want to pick up a crossbow again.”
“Now,thatis a wonderful idea, as long as I can also receive the benefit of your instruction.” He leaned in a little, his breath hot against my ear. “I may be a professor, but I’m also an excellent student.”
“If you think you’re getting me into your bed tonight, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Ah, but the night is young, and my flirtations have only justbegun. Allow me to demonstrate: Mara, has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”
“Quite often, actually. You’ll have to do better than that.”
He laughed once more, with genuine delight, and my heart fluttered a little at the sound. I tried to ignore it. No matter how nice it felt to have his warm fingers splayed across the small of my back, firmly holding me to him, the very last thing I needed was to enter into any sort of dalliance with Gareth Fontaine.
Chapter 6
Gareth didn’t push his luck; once we finished our dance, instead of trying to charm me into another one, he gallantly fetched me a glass of water. I had just taken my first sip when a young freckle-faced page found us with a summons from Farrin and murmured, “If you’ll please follow me.”
He brought us to a chamber close enough to the ballroom that even with the door closed, I could still hear the orchestra’s cheery waltz. There were several people in the room—council members, I supposed, few of whom I recognized—but I had eyes only for Farrin. My Order training prompted me to scan her for signs of injury, illness, or undue stress. Was she haggard? Had she been eating and sleeping enough?
She sat behind a table piled high with papers, her golden-brown hair in its usual braid. Her dress was simple but elegant, and its sumptuous dark blue shade warmed my heart, for I took it as a sign of her new devotion to the House of Bask—or at least to its son.
Ryder stood behind her, wearing a fine gray tunic with rolled-up sleeves and charcoal-black trousers. He was reading over her shoulder with a frown on his bearded face, his dark hair pulled back in a tidy knot.
I liked the sight of them together—Farrin sitting straight and tall in her chair, Ryder looming beside her like a great bird of prey, watchful and alert. When we entered the room, they both looked to me at once, and Farrin’s brown eyes lit up in a way that made my stomach hurt. She said my name and stood, and I went straight to her and pulled her into my arms.
For a moment we were children again, the carefree ones who’d spent our days romping about the grounds of Ivyhill. I didn’t allow myself to think of home as often as I once had, but in Farrin’s arms I couldn’t help it. She even smelled the same as the girl I remembered: the same soft hint of lavender, the same warm Farrin smell in her hair. And I was gratified to realize how strong she felt in my arms, nothing like the harried wisp I feared I might see. Ryder must have continued her training. When she started to pull away, my instinct was to draw her even closer, but somehow I managed to let her go.
“Oh, Mara, it’s so good to see you,” she said, holding me by the arms. “You look wonderful. I’m so relieved. The reports we’ve received…” Then she glanced behind me and smiled. “Oh, and you’ll never guess who’s here—”
Something slammed into me from behind, the air suddenly flush with a familiar floral scent. Arms wound tightly around me and squeezed.
“You might find returning to Rosewarren rather difficult,” said Talan, coming forward, his smooth voice rich with amusement, “what with that wild Gemma attached to your back.”
Grinning, I gently dislodged my baby sister’s vise grip and turned around to return her fierce embrace. I couldn’t believe it: both my sisters, here in the same room. It had been only a few weeks since we’d last seen each other—at Ivyhill, after the destruction of Mhorghast and the death of Ankaret—but it felt like years. I wanted to grab them both and hold on forever. I wanted to hide them away with me, somewhereno one could find us unless we desired it. Fiercely I wished for this. I prayed for it.
“You’re lucky I didn’t spin around and deck you for that,” I said with a smile. “Haven’t I told you to never sneak up on a Rose?”
“You’re not a Rose,” Gemma said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “You’re Mara.”
It wasn’t the first time she had said those words to me, but it was the first time they’d hurt me. I bristled in her arms, but before I could decipher the feeling, she stepped back to inspect me, a beaming smile on her face. I took her in greedily. There were the golden curls I’d known since I was two years old; there were her sparkling blue eyes. Our mother’s eyes, but softer, sweeter. She wore a plain gray dress that I assumed she’d borrowed from someone. Even in a drab, ill-fitting gown, she was resplendent.
“That color,” she declared, “is marvelous on you. You should wear purple more often.” She glanced at Gareth, then back at me. Questions danced in her eyes. Part of me was curious about what she saw on Gareth’s face, but the better part of me won.
“You’re too thin,” I observed, eager to stop talking about what colors suited me as soon as possible. I looked over at Talan. “You are too.”
Gemma reached out to Talan, who took her hand gently. Even travel-weary and in borrowed plainclothes, he cut an extraordinary figure in the firelight: pale as ever, his dark eyes soft and tired, his hair falling in dark brown waves to his chin. But I didn’t like the exhaustion I saw on his face or the new gauntness of his cheeks.
