Chapter Eighteen #3
“So, Lord Daziel,” my aunt said as soon as the doors were closed and she’d smeared neshem across the spell for soundproofing and activated it. “Care to tell us the whole story?”
He sat beside me, clenching my hand in his lap. He blinked innocently at Aunt Tirtzah across from us. “The whole story?”
“What a high shayd is doing in Talum,” she said calmly.
“They think only a high shayd could cast the spell at the Rocks,” I hurriedly explained. “It’s the only explanation they could come up with.” I tried to convey I hadn’t said anything about the binding, but it probably came off as an eye twitch.
“My niece is quite insistent on believing you’re a wild shayd,” Aunt Tirtzah said. “I don’t think she will believe anyone but you. Would you mind putting the matter to rest?”
Daziel’s mouth pressed together. He drew back the curtain, gazing out at Society Hill as we rolled past lush gardens toward Aunt Tirtzah’s home. It was early evening now, and the sun almost completely set.
“It’s okay,” I said to him softly. “I know you’re not a high shayd. You don’t have to explain anything.”
He stilled. Then he turned to look at me, the gauzy curtain falling shut.
It wasn’t any one thing about his expression, or the way he held himself, but all of them combined—the stiffness of his shoulders, the cant of his chin, the brackets around his mouth and the faint furrow between his brows.
All the air was sucked out of me. I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach, like the floor had been stolen away from beneath me.
“What?” I gasped, staring at him. The world tilted. All my senses were misaligned, a hair off from normal. But—no. The spell had worked because we were bound. I swallowed, my throat dry. “I’m sorry. Are you a high shayd?”
He winced.
Oh. I blinked rapidly, my stomach roiling. If he was, then—he’d lied to me. “Oh my god. You are.”
“Naomi—” He reached for me.
I leaned back. There was no room for rational thought in my mind, only confusion and hurt and the desire to excuse myself from this situation. I fumbled for the carriage door’s handle and pushed it open.
My aunt sucked in her breath. “Naomi, stop—”
Daziel frowned deeply. “What are you doing—”
“I’m getting out of here!” My voice came out shrill, matching the high thread of panic running through me.
Daziel was a high shayd? He’d lied. He’d lied intentionally.
And I had kissed him; I’d thought we were as close as two people could be—I looked out the open door at the road speeding along beyond my feet.
Daziel reached across me and pulled the door closed, glaring. “You don’t need to jump out of a moving vehicle!”
“A high shayd?” I shoved him hard. “You lied to me!”
He deflated. “Can we talk about this later?”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have anything else to say.
Aunt Tirtzah took advantage of my silence to lean forward. “What are you doing here, Lord Daziel? Why didn’t you declare your presence?”
Lord. That’s why they were calling him “Lord.” Because he was a high shayd, part of their court.
My aunt pressed on. “You have eaten at my table and been housed by my niece, who clearly adores you, though I suspect you’re going to break her heart. If that’s the case, I’d like to know why.”
I flinched.
Daziel was silent a moment. “I don’t plan to break Naomi’s heart.”
“No one ever does,” Tirtzah said wearily. “Yet it’s so often the outcome. And while my niece is a bright, kind young woman, I’m struggling to envision a world where a high shayd lord marries her.”
A pang stabbed through my chest at her words, and my stomach felt hollow. “I never expected him to marry me,” I managed, trying to preserve some sense of dignity as everything crumbled around me. “It was just an arrangement.”
Daziel looked away. That hurt even more.
Aunt Tirtzah’s voice softened. “It’s been a long day. Perhaps we should rest and talk more in the morning.”
I nodded, numb. I didn’t understand why he’d lied to me. I wouldn’t have cared that he was a high shayd. What mattered was he’d lied, and I’d thought we were too close to lie.
We arrived at the house, and Aunt Tirtzah showed us to one of her guest chambers. It was a beautiful room, wooden framework contrasting with the gray stone walls, the parquet floor gleaming.
“We’re, um…” I paused, then forged ahead. “We’re staying in the same room?”
My aunt’s lips quirked. “This isn’t the plainlands, Naomi. But it’s less because I’m progressive than because this is part of the negotiation.”
I didn’t understand until Daziel spelled it out. “You’re to be my keeper. To report on my comings and goings.”
I stiffened, insulted. “No.”
Aunt Tirtzah looked weary. “That was part of the agreement. For his release.”
“I didn’t agree.”
“I did, on your behalf. You’re a minor. Spare clothes are in the wardrobes and night kits in the washroom.
I’ll have dinner sent up. If there’s anything you require before morning, you can find me or Chava in my office for the next few hours, and after you can come to my room. Otherwise, I’ll see you at breakfast.”
She shut the door behind her, and we were alone.