A House Divided, Nicole Ciacchella [universal ebook reader .txt] 📗

noticing Cianne's. With a dizzying whoosh the blood had drained from her face, and she was glad he had lowered the blinds. The dim light would prevent him from seeing how pale she had gone.

"The thing is," he continued after a moment, "I think my father knew about it. They were in his study, in the middle of an argument the day I came back from my last voyage. I walked in on them. They brushed me off when I asked, but I heard my father as soon as I came through the front door. Over and over again he was shouting, 'How could you? How could you take part in such a betrayal?'"

 

 

Chapter 20

 

 

 

"I may need your assistance with something," Miss Wyland said as she slipped through Kila's back door.

Anticipating that she might drop in, he'd been on alert the entire evening, listening for her. He had taken to leaving his back door unbarred, his windows unlatched, when he was at home and awake. She'd already proven to him that she could sneak into his lodgings whenever she liked, so he doubted practicing her skills on his security would help her develop them any further. Why not make things simpler for her?

"Oh?" he asked, lifting a brow as he turned to her, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

Her face was drawn, her eyes troubled, but she brightened at the sight of his preparations. "Two cups?" she asked, her lips quirking in an amused smile.

Shrugging, he said, "I've decided it's best to be prepared. Been putting out an extra cup every night."

He would have called her expression wistful, but that didn't make much sense to him.

"That's kind of you," she said.

His traitorous eyes wanted to drink in the sight of her, and he found the urge difficult to resist. She was dressed as she always was, in tight, form-hugging black clothing that intrigued him more than he cared to admit. Her eyes were almost indigo in the flickering candlelight, and he felt himself being drawn into them. Tearing his gaze away, he returned his attention to the tea preparation.

Words tickled at the back of his throat. He wanted to tell her how much he enjoyed her company, but he wondered if that would sound odd, considering they were caught up in the midst of an intrigue. Would things be different once they managed to untangle the threads and discover what was happening in House Staerleigh? Was the chemistry simmering between them due to the excitement of being embroiled in a secret together, or was it more substantial than that? Would she continue to visit him at night after they'd solved the mystery?

He hoped very much that she would. Her secret skills and sharpness of mind intrigued him, made him want to learn more about her. He would like to spend time with her, note the changes the years had wrought. He longed to know this new, adult version of the sweet young girl he had once befriended.

He kept his thoughts to himself.

They sat at his small table, Miss Wyland's shoulders relaxing as she sipped the tea. She was pensive, though.

"How may I assist you, Miss Wyland?" he asked.

"Miss Wyland?" she repeated, her lips curving in a full smile that snagged his gaze once more. "Really? When did we end up on such formal terms?"

"What should I call you, then?"

"You should call me by my first name, like you used to—" she cut herself off, looking abashed. "Right. I guess you didn't know me as Cianne then either."

"No, but I like to think I knew you."

His response pleased her, judging by the color that rose to her cheeks, the hope on her face. "You did know me. You do know me."

"Cianne it is, then, if that's what you would like."

Her cheeks got even pinker at his saying her name. "It is."

"So, how may I assist you, Cianne?"

"I may need to break into the offices in the Council Hall."

He wasn't surprised, not truly, but he did feel wary. Not because he didn't trust her, but because he wondered if it was a risk she should take. Her position within the House seemed precarious as it was. He did not think the Elders would be lenient if they caught her.

"Are you certain that's wise?"

"No, but I'm becoming convinced it may be necessary," she said. "Lach told me two things that strike me as very odd. For one, he said his parents were arguing the day he returned from his journey. He wasn't expected so early, if you recall, so they wouldn't have known he would walk in on them. He said his father was shouting at his mother, 'How could you? How could you take part in such a betrayal?'

"The second odd thing he told me was that his mother has been receiving coded messages. I plan to have a look around her study in the Stowley manor as well, but something tells me she wouldn't have kept them hidden there. My father doesn't keep anything of interest in his study."

Kila sensed something else was troubling her, but even as she continued to share more information with him, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was holding back.

She told him about the connections she'd made between her father, Moiria, and the Elders. He had to admit that all of it did sound rather strange. Why would the Elders be so secretive? The Houses were as strong as they were because transparency was the standard. House Elders guided the House and stepped in to make decisions where necessary, but most House affairs were settled by consensus. Since every member of the House felt as if they had a vested interest in House outcomes, it kept them all loyal, involved, and motivated to do what was best for the collective good. Yes, some fared better than others, but when the House in general prospered so did even the lowliest of House members. It was what made the Houses such a force to be reckoned with, as many a non-Adept had complained to his or her companions in the local tavern. Hoping to win one House member to your side, to persuade them to go against the rest of their House, was considered a losing proposition.

"Very well. Should it become necessary to break into the Council Hall, I will assist you. I would very much like to see these coded messages," he said.

"As would I."

"What does the captain think his mother is doing?" he asked, wondering if Cianne intended to bring Captain Stowley in on their investigation.

Her face tightened at the mention of the captain, and Kila had the feeling that whatever she was holding back had to do with Captain Stowley. "He thinks his mother is having an affair."

"Do you mean to disabuse him of this notion?"

"No."

Her painful conflict at not sharing the truth with her friend was obvious, but he was glad she'd made the decision to keep what she knew to herself. As a general rule he wasn't necessarily in favor of going things alone, but he felt that in this circumstance secrecy was warranted. He was beginning to trust that she would defy her House if necessary, but he wasn't willing to bank on anyone else's willingness to do so.

"I think that's for the best, as difficult as this must be for you."

"So do I," she said with a heavy sigh. She threaded her fingers into her tightly bound hair and began kneading her scalp.

"Do you think the captain could ever be an ally?"

"I don't know. Perhaps. If we can find definitive proof that his mother did murder his father and that she and her conspirators covered it up, it might be enough to turn Lach. But I don't think it's wise to even consider bringing any of this to his attention unless we can find solid proof."

"I agree. I'm sorry. I wish I knew of some way to make this easier on you," he said, full of sympathy for her. He didn't like to see her under such strain.

"You help make it easier on me," she said, glancing at him. "Knowing I can speak freely with you, let down my guard, that does help. More than you might think."

"You may unburden yourself to me any time you wish."

"Do you know what would help me even more?"

"What's that?"

"Performing the deshya with you."

"I would be glad to have someone to practice with."

She was so lovely when she smiled.

Together they gathered the tea things and then headed out into his darkened jungle of a garden. Kila was accustomed to darkness, having spent many evenings staking out suspects and tracking wrongdoers, and his eyes adjusted quickly. Cianne didn't need much time to get her bearings either, as he'd suspected, and they took up positions across from one another, close but leaving an arm's length between them so that neither would accidentally strike the other.

Performing the deshya with a partner was an intimate act, which was why parents taught it to their children as a bonding exercise. Staring steadily into another's eyes for such a length of time was no easy thing, and it was thought that growing comfortable in performing the deshya with a partner was a good means of building trust. Kila suspected this was true, but he hadn't enough experience to say for certain. He had certainly trusted his parents, but aside from them Cianne was the only other person with whom he'd performed the deshya. After his departure from Cearova, he had been convinced he'd never perform it with a partner again.

The overgrown state of his garden heightened the sense of intimacy. The huge, unruly plants provided them with extra cover, shielding them from stray eyes. With so little space to work out, they had to be closer to one another than they might otherwise have been.

Threads of trust tugged at him as they glided from one form to the next without hesitation. When she had been younger the direct eye contact had made Cianne giggle in embarrassment, but now her face was serene as she moved. He was impressed by how well she performed. Her movements were lithe, fluid, beautiful to behold. She might not know it, but when she performed the deshya she was as much a child of water as any member of House Staerleigh. What a pity they couldn't seem to understand that value didn't lie solely in the Seafarer gifts Cearus had granted most of them.

Afterward they sat next to one another in the patch of scrubby grass, catching their breath. Kila had brought out some cool, weak ale for them to drink, and they gazed up at the stars as they recovered.

"Your skills are astonishing," he said.

"Because you wouldn't have believed me capable of developing them?" she teased. There was nothing but lightness in her voice, telling him that she trusted him to see her in ways her House couldn't.

"Yes, that's it," he said, deadpan.

"Thank you very much for that wonderful compliment," she cried, nudging him with her shoulder.

The contact sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with the night air cooling his overheated skin. His mouth went dry as she plucked pins from her hair, causing it to tumble over her shoulders and down to her waist in a cascade of loose curls. Breathing out in evident relief, she combed her fingers through her hair, brushing it away from her face. His fingers itched to reach out and touch it.

"You must have dedicated yourself to practicing," he said instead, hoping his voice was level.

"I did," she said,