Winterbourne's Daughter Read online

  Lisette, she was sure, would make a very inappropriate joke and then sit down. She barely managed a mumbled apology before pulling the door back open.

  Then she realized what this might look like, a planned tryst that had been interrupted, and tried to regain her equilibrium. "Huntsman," she said calmly, closing the door behind her. "I promise, this is not as it appears."

  "Oh." He shrugged, gave a half-smile. "In that case, not sure which one of you I'm more disappointed in."

  Disappointed. Because she wasn't interested in a more physical relationship, that was something to be disappointed over?

  It doesn't matter, she thought. He was a stranger anyway, and he would remain so. She had spoken to Stanimir only a handful of times during his time as Huntsman; the same would surely be true now. Any words he spoke meant less than nothing.

  "I simply come here on occasion so I can think," she told him. "There are very few truly quiet places in the castle proper."

  "Understood," Gennadi said. "Though you don't have to explain yourself to me."

  Of course she didn't. But she found herself unable to think of anything else to say that wasn't a stammered excuse. Finally, she cleared her throat. "So. How are you enjoying being Huntsman?"

  His eyes lit with amusement. "It's never boring."

  "Good. That's good," she said and then opened the door again before she could embarrass herself further. "All right then. Goodnight."

  She shut the door, and Gennadi turned back to Vasya. "Wasn't expecting that," he said. "How long has she been coming here?"

  "Off and on for about ten years or so."

  Gennadi blinked. "Oh." There was no chance, he thought, that they had been meeting secretly in this room for years to just talk. Not with the way the two of them had looked at each other.

  Normally such a thing might not concern him―being involved with more than one person at a time was a commonality, after all―but no more than a month ago, Vasya had seen one of the fighters laughing on her way to the tavern, two men at her side, and made a comment about how he wasn't sure he could handle something like that.

  He edged toward the door himself. "I'd better get some sleep."

  "Goodnight," Vasya said, and was that regret in his voice?

  If it was, only regret that he hadn't left sooner.

  Gennadi moved out into the hall, closed the door behind him, and then hesitated. Going back in might make him the biggest fool in three Kingdoms.

  But then again, he thought with a brief smile, why break a longstanding tradition?

  He cracked the door back open. "Actually? Vasya, I―"

  Gennadi hadn't expected him to be right in the doorway, as if he'd been ready to open the door himself and follow. He always had something to say, but found himself struck silent by the expression on Vasya's face.

  Then Vasya pulled Gennadi to him, kissing him fervently, as if he had to make up for the seconds they'd spent watching each other instead of touching.

  "Emeline?" Gennadi managed. His conscience insisted that he ask, even as his libido cursed at him.

  "A friend."

  And that couldn't be right. He'd seen the way Vasya's expression had softened when she'd entered the room, and how her gaze had been drawn to him in turn. But whatever the explanation was, he would ask for it later. Right now the only thing he could focus on, wanted to focus on, was how much he wanted to kiss Vasya again.

  Vasya chuckled against his mouth, the sound melting into his entire body and making him groan. He'd been wanting to do this for what seemed like forever, but at first Vasya hadn't seemed interested and then he'd been too nervous to say anything but now...

  "Bed," he growled, and Vasya laughed again as he pulled Gennadi further into the room and closed the door behind them.

  "Impatient, are we?"

  "Very," Gennadi said, returning his grin. He reached out and rested a hand on the side of Vasya's neck, thumb brushing against his pulse, pleased to realize that it was pounding just as hard as his own. "If I hadn't opened the door again," he asked, "would you have come after me?"

  "Yes. Seems I'm impatient as well."

  *~*~*

  Lisette would not admit that this was becoming a habit.

  She stared down from the window, watching the marketplace below, and keeping an eye out for one figure in particular.

  She smiled―rather foolishly, she had to confess―when she caught sight of Gennadi. He had been her friend for years; it had surprised her to suddenly notice the way his black hair brushed over the tops of his shoulders, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned.

  She barely resisted the urge to peer back outside.

  A part of her was still unable to believe she'd actually admitted her developing feelings a few days prior. Gennadi wasn't the first or only one in her life she'd felt such things for, but he was, oddly, the easiest to speak with about such matters. Possibly because he was the one most likely to return those feelings, she thought. The Champion might well still think of her as the child he'd once been ordered to fight, and Emeline was sworn to the king. Though she held no affection for the wretch, that didn't mean Emeline would be willing to risk the consequences of a secret affair.

  If she even felt that way about Lisette. She might consider the two of them close friends and nothing more. And of course the only way to find out would be to admit her own feelings and risk breaking their friendship permanently.

  Lisette headed down to the kitchens. That was always a good place to distract herself from unwanted thoughts, cluttered and noisy and chaotic as the place was.

  Gennadi had come in from the market and was now chatting with Colombe as she stirred an enormous pot. He made a show out of taking down a ladle and trying to get a sample, and she made an equal show of elbowing him away from the pot, both of them laughing.

  "Morning, Lisette," Colombe said cheerfully. "Sabine's made up a fresh batch of tarts."

  "Oh, I see," Gennadi teased. "I come in and it's 'get out of here' and 'don't touch that', but she comes in..."

  "That's because she doesn't steal half the cookies," Sabine said.

  "Excuses, excuses," he said as Lisette picked up one of the tarts. She nodded to the kitchen staff and then headed out for one of the smaller courtyards, where she could have some peace.

  Leaning against the wall in the courtyard, she stared down at the tart in her hand. Apple, from the smell of it.

  "Are you going to share?"

  She looked up, startled, as Gennadi sauntered into the small courtyard. She broke the tart in half and handed one piece to him.

  "I saw you up in that window, you know."

  "Well, I..." She started to try and make an excuse―which was foolish; hadn't she already told him the way she felt?―but instead she just smiled. He was giving her an appraising look that made her mouth go dry, and she couldn't help but edge a little bit closer.

  She'd noticed before how tactile the Huntsman was―always a hand on another fighter's arm or an arm around their shoulders; clapping people on the back; picking up the kids who came up to him at the marketplace. But she'd never been the focus of it before. When Gennadi reached out and curled his palm around the back of her neck, Lisette suddenly found it hard to catch her breath.

  She leaned forward even as he did the same, closing her eyes as he kissed her.

  "Gennadi!"

  Both of them pulled back as someone called his name from out in the hall, and then a Page opened the door. "Ah, there you are!" he said, ignoring Lisette's presence. "I thought I saw you come this way. The king requests an audience."

  Gennadi nodded, glancing at Lisette as he pulled the door to the courtyard closed behind him, his look full of promise. She leaned back against the stone wall. She really did need to go back inside and get back to work, she thought. And she would. Just as soon as this smitten, silly grin disappeared.

  *~*~*

  Emeline never would have paused in her sewing if she hadn't heard the fighter's name. />
  "Sie's been in the Arena for years," the king was saying. "Used to dealing with pain. Not sure how much use you'll be able to get out of sier."

  "Oh, I'll find a way," Grisha said, and Emeline nearly shuddered at the smile she could hear in his voice. "Will Roz be the only fighter sent to me? After all, my king, half the castle knows by now that sie's looking for a way past the Wall."

  "True," King Nazar said. "I've just spoken to the Huntsman; he'll be keeping an eye on sier. When sie makes sier attempt, he'll be waiting."

  Emeline swallowed hard. Such news would normally be disturbing but nothing more―she would go to Roz and tell sier to quiet down, to stay within these walls until the king and the torturer found someone else to focus on. Her birthday was in three months' time; if sie could just wait, she would pardon sier then.

  But Roz was wholly determined to escape... and Lisette was determined to help sier get out. She had a plan in place, was going to put it into effect tomorrow, the sixth day of the fighters' competition.

  Yesterday she had asked Lisette if helping Roz was truly the best idea... their separation was an awful thing, yes, but Roz had clearly not been the same since sie'd gotten the news about sier grandchild. Anyone with eyes could see that sie missed her; anyone with the faintest understanding of the heart would know sie'd try to get to her.

  Lisette had brushed off her concerns, telling her that Roz needed to leave and that was all she cared about.

  Her throat tight and her heart heavy, Emeline went to speak with her mother.

  Chapter Nine

  Emeline knew it was a test.

  Her mother could have ordered any of her staff to go to Roz and tell sier to come to the kitchens after moonrise to meet with people who wished to help sier. But Sidonie asked her to do it.

  And so Emeline did, whispering to sier as sie came in for the evening meal, thinking of Lisette in an attempt to keep her heart from shattering at the way hope leapt up in Roz's eyes.

  The next morning, Sidonie congratulated her on her 'invaluable' help in bringing a traitor to justice. For several days, though Emeline faithfully set the small pearl into the chipped brick, Lisette didn't visit her.

  *~*~*

  "I want to know why."

  Emeline looked up from the book she was reading. Lisette closed the door to the small library behind her, her hands clenched into fists, fury and grief warring on her face.

  "They were going to be fine," she continued before Emeline could speak. "Now sie'll never see sier daughter or Galya again. Soraya will raise that child completely alone, if Galya even survives, and Roz wanted to be with them either way and now you've ruined that!"

  "You forget yourself," Emeline snapped.

  Lisette lowered her eyes, her voice quieter but still strong as she said, "Tell me why."

  "I overheard the king," Emeline said. "Speaking with Grisha. He knew Roz wanted out. He planned to lay a trap for whoever chose to help sier."

  "There's always a risk."

  "This wasn't a risk. It was a certainty! It was either lose a stranger or someone who has become more dear to me than my own life. I could not―"

  "Sie's no stranger to me!" Lisette snapped. "Now I not only have to get sier out of the castle but out of the dungeons first!"

  "That is not your responsibility," Emeline said. "Things can be bad, I don't deny that, but that doesn't mean you have to put yourself at risk, too!" Emeline bit her lip, afraid that Lisette would turn and storm off and continue avoiding her.

  Then Lisette spoke, her voice soft and reluctant. "Yes, it does. For years I took advantage of all this―"

  "You were a child! You didn't know!"

  "And now I do. I have to help. If you don't wish to join me, that's your decision, but I at least ask that you no longer involve your mother."

  "Is she so horrible?" Emeline asked, tears abruptly stinging her eyes as she remembered the way Roz had regarded her with such trust. She wanted Lisette to say no, needed her to say something, anything, that would give her a kind thought of her mother to cling to.

  "Yes," Lisette snapped. "She was smiling as poor Roz was taken to Grisha."

  "Sie would not be put to death for such a thing," Emeline whispered. "Only the murder of a loyalist or royal is punishable by death."

  "True, at least officially. But if Grisha wants a new toy or three..."

  "Mother said sie would be given five lashes. Nothing more."

  "Your mother lied."

  "I didn't―"

  "You should have! You know her better than any of us; why can't you see that she's―don't cry. I'm sorry. You just... your mother is―" Lisette sighed, rubbed a hand over her face. "Just don't do it again. Please."

  "I won't." She sighed. "Do you know what happens to idealists? They get killed. In horrifying ways. And they convince other people to die right along with them." She looked to the bookshelves, remembering the history books she'd pored over. "Sometimes I wish you hadn't taught me to read."

  "I'm sorry, my mistress. I won't involve you in such things anymore."

  "No. I... I'll help."

  "You only need say that if you're certain."

  "I am. If you insist on continuing with this foolishness," she said, "you at least won't do it alone. I'm sorry for snapping at you. Especially in the fashion that I did," she told her friend, kneeling. Though they'd quarreled with each other over the years, never once had Emeline insinuated that Lisette should hold her tongue because she was speaking with the Royal Mistress.

  "It's forgiven," Lisette said. "Now get up. Should someone open that door, you would lose the rest of your hand."

  Emeline rose to her feet and looked toward the door before speaking quietly. "I have something that might be of use to you. But you can only use it in the strictest of emergencies."

  "What?" Lisette asked.

  "In the Silence, there's a passage that leads all the way to the edge of Vedrana's Forest. It's for the use of the royal family in case of a rebellion or something worse, but if someone else like Roz is in dire need of help..."

  Lisette grinned, and Emeline knew that if she wasn't so concerned about someone coming here in need of a book, she would hug her. "Thank you so much, Emeline."

  "But only if it's an immediate need," Emeline said. "Otherwise I will simply pardon that bondservant when my birthday comes. Does my mother have anyone locked in the Silence currently?"

  "No."

  "Neither does Nazar or Grisha. Meet me there tonight after moonrise, and I'll show you how to open the door."

  As soon as Lisette was gone, Emeline leaned against the wall, taking several deep breaths to steel herself for what she knew had to be done.

  The king would never agree to pardon Roz. And once Grisha had gotten hold of someone, they rarely left his rooms alive.

  It was her fault that Roz was in the dungeons. And her responsibility to get sier out.

  Emeline knew that she should have mentioned her budding plan to Lisette, but having just gone to such lengths to keep her safe, she couldn't bear to involve her in this. Besides, if she was caught, she would lose another finger at the most. Perhaps be confined to her quarters for a time. Lisette would face death.

  If she closed her eyes, she could pretend to be a Shadow. Hidden and dangerous, able to call down terrible punishments on any who crossed her.

  In reality, if one of the guards who roamed around the dungeons caught sight of her...

  Emeline swallowed hard and slid silently along the wall, pausing at each of the seven dungeon doors to peer in through the small slot and see who might be within the room. At one, she saw Grisha, sharpening a set of knives. She ducked away from that door, her heart pounding.

  At the fourth door, she saw Roz. She crept inside, motioning for sier to stay silent, only to nearly scream herself as she saw that the other person hanging beside sier was already dead, eyes sightless and blood clotted on the floor underneath him. She grabbed up a blade and used it to saw at the ropes binding Roz's wrists,
tears streaming down her face.

  "Hurry," Roz hissed. "Grisha could be back any―"

  "I know!"

  She finally freed sier and sie fell against her, sending Emeline stumbling back to hit her hip against the wooden table. One of the knife racks on it clattered over and they both froze, staring at the doorway.

  When it remained empty, Emeline looped an arm around the fighter's waist. "Can you walk?"

  Roz nodded and then braced sierself against the table for a moment while sie caught sier breath.

  "Good," she said. "Doubt I could carry you."

  "Where are we going?"

  "The Silence."

  "What?"

  "There is a safe passage in the Silence. Trust me. I found out about it during the Kalian Uprising."

  Soon after she had been wed to Nazar, a loyalist named Kalian and his sister had been upset with some of the new changes―one law required a stipend be granted to bondservants upon their release, while another proposal said there would no longer be a Wall between them and the peasants―and led a revolt. She had huddled in the Silence with her daughter, the passageway door open wide and beckoning.

  Emeline had thought about running away then. Taking Ilari and getting as far as she could. But she'd known the king would scour every village for them, and she'd doubted that she could survive in Vedrana's Forest with an infant.

  And in the end, it was best that she hadn't given in to the urge to run. Nazar had put down the revolt very quickly.

  She and Roz turned a corner in the winding hallway and nearly bumped straight into the doctor. Alain blinked at them, his eyes widening as he realized what was going on.

  Unsure of what else to do, Emeline straightened her shoulders as best she was able with Roz clinging to her. "I would request, as Royal Mistress, that you do not say anything about this."

  He nodded. "As you wish."

  Emeline searched his face for any smirk, any sign of sarcasm. There was nothing.

  Then she realized that even if Alain was lying to her and was going to run straight to the guards, what could she do? Take Roz back to the dungeon?

  The doctor turned and started to hurry away and then froze as he heard shouting. Grisha's voice, yelling that his prisoner had escaped.