Chapter 5 #2
I sighed, took another sip of wine, and kept staring up at the queen. Another person I didn’t particularly want to talk to: Gareth Fontaine, he of the drunken crossbow-bearing friends.
“Stranger things have happened, I suppose,” I said.
“Farrin believes it with all her heart.”
“I’m glad she does. Hope can be a great comfort. Ryder will pull her back if she grows obsessive about it.”
He hummed a little in agreement, then cleared his throat.
“Mara, I know you don’t like me very much.
And I don’t blame you, really, especially after that incident with your friend Cira the other day.
But I’d like to change that, or at least try.
” I heard a smile in his voice. “I’m not entirely hopeless, you know.
Do you think Farrin would like me so much if I were a true scoundrel? ”
Finally I turned to face him, and when I did, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d heard all about Gareth’s rakish ways; I’d even gotten a small taste of them myself during our travels to Wardwell earlier that fall, when he’d fawned over me like a smitten schoolboy at the tavern in Vallenvoren.
But I’d never seen him done up so nicely.
Of course he was able to reel in woman after woman, looking like that.
His blond curls were artfully tousled, his green eyes sparkled behind his gold-rimmed glasses, and though his gray suit was unassuming compared to some of the other guests’ extravagant garments, it was tailored to perfection.
I’d not realized until that moment how pleasing a form he had.
Tall, lean but solid, with a boyishly lanky quality that I found rather charming.
It must have been the wine, or his elegant long fingers, or that sharp turn of his jaw.
His collar was slightly undone, his tie loose and rumpled. As I took him in, he grinned.
“Why, Mara,” he said, “you flatter me with such attention.”
I raised an eyebrow and shrugged, determined not to react to that smile of his. “Even Roses can appreciate a handsome man. We’re not monks, you know, scurrying about in our Cloisters muttering prayers day and night.”
“Certainly not.” He was looking me up and down. Fair play.
“Well?” I prodded. “Do I pass muster?”
“Let me see.” Gareth circled me, holding his chin as if deep in thought. “Quite a nice gown, I must say. That deep violet color suits you. And it bares your shoulders in a way some might find provocative.”
“Bared shoulders are provocative?”
“Absolutely, when they’re as lovely as yours.”
My cheeks warmed at the compliment. The wine had truly gotten to me. “These lovely shoulders often carry weapons into battle, you know.”
“Even better.”
I swallowed a smile and closed my eyes. “And my hair?” I asked, turning up my chin to pose.
“Wise to wear it gathered at your nape,” he answered at once. “It shows off your skin, the lines of your neck.”
Gareth was passing behind me then, and with my eyes closed and the orchestra’s waltz spinning through the air, I convinced myself that soon he would come closer, put his hand on my waist, and press a kiss between my shoulder blades.
The image was absurd enough to shake me out of whatever tipsy madness had taken hold of my senses. I opened my eyes to glare at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the goose bumps prickling my skin.
“What do you want, Gareth?” I said sharply. “Did you come over here just to flirt with me?”
“If so, I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job of it,” he replied jovially.
“I’ve seen better.”
He put a hand on his heart, flashing me another mischievous grin. “I’d be honored by the chance to try again. Practice makes perfect, they say.”
For a moment, I felt tempted to give in to whatever was happening here.
Gareth was attractive and certainly smarter than most men I’d taken to bed.
It was rare for me to feel pretty, and I did that night, especially with him looking at me like that, with his eyes twinkling and his clever mouth promising clever kisses.
Maybe bedding a professor would strengthen the Order’s relationship with the university. The Warden had said to be charming.
But then Gareth’s gaze moved past me, and his expression darkened. “Oh, for the love of all the gods,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “Can I have the rest of your wine?”
I raised my eyebrows and wordlessly handed him my glass.
He downed the last bit in a rather violent gulp, then turned to smile at the young man approaching us.
He looked to be about twenty, with tawny brown skin, loose black curls, wide brown eyes, and an air of the fawn about him, skittish and guileless.
But he carried a notebook and pen, and on second glance, those sweet eyes held an avid light that put me on my guard at once.
“Reynard Farrington,” Gareth said lightly. “Enjoying the party?”
“Oh, yes. My first royal ball. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“And you may never again, depending on how the next few weeks unfold.” Gareth glanced at me. “Have you met Reynard Farrington of the Fairhaven Courier? Reynard, this is Mara Ashbourne of the Order of the Rose.”
Reynard’s eyes widened. He opened his notebook and began jotting something down. “Gods remade, a Rose,” he murmured. “I’ve never met one before.”
“A veritable feast of new experiences for you tonight,” I replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise, likewise. If you don’t mind, Mara, I’d love to ask you a few questions after I finish with Professor Fontaine.”
The casual way he said my name, as if we were old friends, amused me as a precocious child might, but Gareth looked outraged.
“I already told you everything you need to know,” he said.
“On the contrary, you answered only two of my questions.”
“Yes, and then I walked away from you. Most people would read that as a dismissal.”
“Most people don’t write for the Fairhaven Courier.
And if you’re going to attend a royal ball, eat all this fine food, and dance the night away while thousands of your fellow citizens huddle in camps throughout the city, chased away from their homes by Olden forces or evacuated against their will…
” Reynard shrugged with a sheepish smile.
“It seems to me that the least you could do is answer a few questions for a writer just starting his career.”
“This ball was arranged to raise morale and funds for the war effort,” Gareth said tightly. “It isn’t a frivolous affair.”
“And the people who could benefit most from heightened morale are not here.” Reynard nodded at the windows overlooking the city.
“Instead they’re out there, watching the golden festivities from their huts and their borrowed rooms and wondering if they’ll have homes to return to when all of this is over. Or if they’ll even still be alive.”
This sort of talk was getting dangerously close to unwarranted criticism of my sister. “The refugee villages are clean and comfortable,” I said mildly. “I toured them myself. The councils and the Senate have worked hard to provide for those who have been displaced.”
“The councils, the Senate, and your sister, Lady Farrin Ashbourne?” Reynard looked at me keenly, pen poised over his paper. “What do you think of the fact that the late queen Yvaine bequeathed so many of her assets and responsibilities to a woman who has no governing experience?”
An easy question. “I think she chose admirably,” I replied. “Farrin is wise, fair, and knew the queen intimately. What Queen Yvaine would have done, Farrin will strive to do.”
“Yes, they did have quite a close relationship from what I’ve heard,” Reynard murmured. “Some have speculated that’s why the queen chose Lady Farrin as her successor. An exchange of favors, if you will.”
The idea was so absurd that I had to laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“Farrington, if don’t stop talking right now and walk away,” Gareth said, his voice low and furious, “I will shut you up myself.”
Reynard’s smile was full of pity. “Under normal circumstances, I would consider it most unseemly for someone of your status to threaten a humble journalist. But given what you’ve been through, I suppose such erratic behavior is to be expected.”
Gareth flinched. His brow was a little damp now, and I saw in his eyes a flash of animal fear that I recognized all too well. I’d seen it on the faces of countless Roses over the years: the assault of unwelcome memories.
And suddenly I understood that Reynard Farrington had been trying to ask Gareth questions about his time as a prisoner in Mhorghast—something I wasn’t sure Gareth had even told Farrin about.
“I dare say that Gareth is behaving much more graciously than you would in his position,” I said mildly. “Have you ever been a prisoner of war, Reynard? Have you ever seen someone killed before your very eyes?”
That startled the man, though he recovered quickly. “No, I haven’t. But—”
“Pray you never do. Sometimes the gods listen. And meanwhile, Professor Fontaine and Lady Farrin and I will continue the work that keeps you safe at your writing desk.”
I put my hand on Gareth’s arm and started to gently lead him away, but Reynard Farrington was insatiable. He followed us eagerly, and I barely resisted the urge to kick him aside.
“My contact at the university,” he went on, “says that the Committee of New and Emerging Magics is hard at work on a number of dangerous experiments that could aid the military’s efforts tremendously.
Professor, do you think it wise for a man such as yourself, who has been compromised by the enemy, to be a part of such important and sensitive work? ”
Gareth whirled around, spitting a curse and clenching his fists, but I darted between the two men before he could strike. I put a hand behind me, urging Gareth to stay back, and fixed Reynard Harrington with a cool stare. He looked quite taken aback at my speed and swallowed hard.
“I suggest you return to the party and enjoy your evening, Reynard,” I said quietly. “It would be a shame for you to spend the whole night working.”
The man snapped his notebook shut, his lips thin with frustration, but he gave us both a curt little bow and left without another word.
A few small groups of people nearby were whispering and watching us, tittering nervously or throwing Gareth and me silent looks of trepidation. I wondered which they found more unsettling: a survivor of Mhorghast or a Rose in a gown.
“Thank you,” Gareth said. “I could have killed him. Especially because he’s not wrong about any of it.
Well, except for Farrin and Yvaine. What scum, to insinuate that.
” He dragged a shaking hand through his hair.
“But there are thousands of refugees outside these walls, and we’re all in here, dancing the night away and pretending everything will be all right when of course it won’t be.
And I shouldn’t be at the university, I should… ”
He trailed off. He’d gone pale, and now it was easier to see the shadows of exhaustion under his eyes.
“I should go home,” he said dully. “Far away from all of this. My mother would crow about it until the end of her days. Can you imagine?”
“I haven’t met her,” I replied.
“Lucky you.”
He tried to take another swig from my wine glass, but it was empty, and the realization seemed to break him. He stared at it in dismay, his eyes distant and empty, flat as dull stone. It was a look that did not suit him, and it felt eerily familiar.
Gently I took the glass from him and gave it to a passing servant with a murmur of thanks.
Then the orchestra launched into a new waltz, and since apparently the wine hadn’t released its hold on me quite yet, I grabbed Gareth’s hand and briskly led him out onto the dance floor.
When I turned to face him, he looked as if he’d been given the shock of his life.
“What?” I said, putting one hand on his shoulder and holding the other up for him to grasp. “Don’t you want to dance with me?”
“Well, of course, but—”
“Then put your hand on my waist, and let’s dance.”
Other couples whirled around us, their skirts and tailcoats a flurry of color, but Gareth hesitated, clearly still shaken.
“You said you wanted to practice your flirting,” I prodded. “What happened to all of that? Have my provocative shoulders rendered you mute?”
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, that is 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 just begun. 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.