Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) (7 page)

"You promised you wouldn't ride her yet!" I'd growled, ignoring his grunting and wincing.

"She was fine!"

"
Apparently
." I moved to jab his cast again, but he grabbed my wrist. He'd grown a surprisingly strong grip in that last year. I glared at him and he just laughed. The sound, though familiar, was deeper and had a strange, hypnotizing effect on me I didn't understand. I wiggled my hand free. "All right, so what happened?"

Alex had gone into a very detailed monologue about his morning with Jinx, and I remembered sitting there watching him. Admiring him. So animated as he spoke—he was still excited about the fact he'd almost died. And as it turned out—at least from his injured perspective—Jinx
had
been fine, right until the bunny. At which point it was as if the bunny were some fanged demon from hell who sent Jinx into a fit, and Jinx had bucked Alex right off. Down an embankment and into a pile of thorny bramble.

"Quit looking at me like that." He rolled his eyes. "It's just a broken leg and a minor concussion."

"
Just
." I'd snorted. "I think your brain is what's broken. Are you suicidal?"

Alex reached for me with that proud and very lopsided grin. "But Daria…she finally let me ride her! Saddle…reins…everything!"

I'd eyed him and frowned. "You're sick, you know that?"

He'd laughed again, grabbing my wrists and pulling me closer, and I'd let him. He'd pulled me down until I was lying beside him, my feet dangling over the edge of the mattress, the two of us wedged in that hospital bed. It wasn't unusual for us. We used to lie all over each other all the time. Touching was familiar because of all our fighting and sparring and wrestling. We'd always been so comfortable with one another, back before everything had gotten so complicated. Back before he'd grown so serious with burden and responsibility—which I understood now.

"You smell like grass," he'd said, playing with a piece of my hair.

"That's because I was in the middle of mowing the lawn."

"That's not a lawn. It's a carpet square."

"Shush, before I break your other leg."

I felt him chuckle against me.

"I can't decide if I should be flattered you were so worried about me, or insulted…" he'd whispered on my hair, squeezing my waist.

"Insulted. Definitely," I'd teased, poking him gently in the ribs. For some reason I hadn't felt comfortable telling him just how worried I'd been. Because I'd loved him even then, though I hadn't realized it at the time, and I'd refused to let my mind even creep to that precarious edge, because doing so made me feel vulnerable in a way I'd never felt before. And I was afraid of it. Alex's friendship was like a rare and precious gem I wanted to hide away and protect so that no outside force could take it away from me—or worse, shatter it and render it irreparable. And loving him in that way could do just that.

A cool breeze whispered through the gardens of the Pontefract estate, bringing me back to the present. That was another time, another life. So, so long ago, it almost felt as if those memories belonged to another person. I closed my eyes, letting my mind slip away with it. I missed him. So much. I missed before, the way things had been, before all the walls and awkwardness and duty, and I missed the present, filled with all the raw passion and longing. I missed a future I would never have, not with him. My chest shook with my next breath and I swallowed.

"Ah, there you are, your highness," said a silky voice.

Groan. Maybe I should've thrown myself in the fire instead.

I blinked my eyes open and sat up straight. "Lady Isla."

She gave me a cherry-lipped smile, and I had the sudden urge to reach out and smudge her perfect lipstick. Isla looked particularly exquisite today, wrapped in a gown of lapis lazuli with black lace accents across the front of her torso and in long plates down her skirts. The fabric—some mixture of silk and chiffon—sashayed as she approached, the hem of her gown tickling the short green grass. Most of her red hair was hidden beneath a lacy black bonnet secured by a fat black ribbon tied under her chin. Long black gloves covered her slender hands and arms, and the cape hiding her shoulders was made of black velvet and lined with black silk. She looked as if she'd stepped out of a nineteenth-century edition of Vogue. Men fought with fists, but women fought with fashion, and Isla had just declared war.

Her dark eyes did a once over my frame, and I could almost see her thoughts…

Battle for Danton: Isla one, Daria zero.

"I'm so glad to have found you," she said, those malignant eyes coming to rest upon my face. "Did you receive my note?"

"I did."

There was a moment's pause, and then she smiled broadly. "May I sit?" She waved at the empty space on the bench beside me.

Before I could say a word, she was already wedging herself beside me. Isla adjusted her skirts then began tugging at the fingers of one of her gloves before pulling it free. "I was hoping to speak with you in the drawing room, and when you didn't show, I thought, perhaps, I was wrong to suggest a place so foreign to one of
your
upbringing"—she tugged off the other glove—"and I found myself thinking, if I were her highness, where would I be? Naturally, I recalled you preferred to be out of doors, and it seems my memory serves me right." She laid both gloves across her lap before smiling up at me.

How she managed to thread insults into every saccharine word, I had no idea. It was a talent, no doubt, and I found myself staring at her.

"How do you like the Pontefract estate?" she asked, all innocence.

I had to guard every response with my life. Not something I was good at. "I like what I've seen of it so far."

She smiled at nothing in front of us. "I know it isn't the grand Castle Regius you've grown accustomed to—no doubt both are far better than the bucolic setting I've heard you grew up in on Earth. For myself, I can't imagine living in such simple quarters without servants or cooks or a lady's maid or proper company. It's a wonder you've acquired a sense of decorum in such a short span of time, though you are a wonder…" She laughed to herself, brushing a stray red curl from her face. "But the Pontefract estate does have its charms, doesn't it? Personally, I like the sense of security I find here that doesn't exist in any of the other great houses."

"Security?" It was a weak response, but it was all I could do not to throttle her on the spot.

"Surely you've noticed how protective Lord Pontefract is with his home—the guards and garlands of rope." When she saw me nod (a very marginal nod, I might add), she continued. "And since he's granted me passage into any particular room I like, I find I may enter without concern of intruders. I do so love that about this place. It's difficult finding privacy when one is so admired. Though I figured due to the…abruptness of your arrival late last night, you have yet to be granted such privileges, which is why I thought to wait for you in the drawing room. It's rarely off-limits, even to the lower classes."

Oh, why hadn't I just stayed in my room? "How long have you been a guest here?" I asked.

"A few weeks. Father and I arrived not long after the games ended," she replied, seeming happy to discuss this topic. "My uncle, Lord Vega, had business with Lord Pontefract—they're always doing business together, you see. Lord Vega had other matters to attend, so he asked my father to come in his stead. It's not the first time, nor is it the first time Lord Danton has asked me to accompany him." The smile that followed was distant and pleasured, begging me to ask her for further clarification.

Which I did not. "It's a good thing you and your father left when you did," I said. "This world isn't safe for travelers right now."

"So I hear," she continued, losing the smile. "It's a wonder you made it all the way to Pendel in one piece, but then again, you
did
have your aegis with you. How
is
Aegis Alexander Del Conte, anyway? I so missed seeing his beautiful face around the castle. He was always
so
friendly with me…" She let her voice trail, and her smile returned.

I resisted the urge to punch her in the face and dislocate her jaw so that she would stop talking. "Aegis Alexander Del Conte has always been a perfect gentleman—whether ladies have deserved it or not."

Of course, Isla snatched at once like a starved bird being tossed a crumb. "I've no idea how you stand it."

"What do you mean?"

There was a glint in her eyes. "Oh, come, now. You can tell me. No woman alive could spend so much time alone in Alexander's company without…well, it would be improper for me to say it."

I frowned. "But apparently it's not improper for you to think it."

Her smile could've seduced a eunuch. "All we women are allowed are our thoughts, your highness. It's a man's world. If you do not see that now, you will soon. We women must use what we can." When I didn't respond, she continued. "It must be hard for you, not being able to do magic."

This…all of this was why I'd avoided her. But then again, I could use her gossipy ways in my favor. The most valuable piece of information Isla could have would be concerning my magic. "Not as difficult as it would be for you, I'm sure," I said.

She looked at me, curious. "Whatever do you mean, your grace?"

I drew my attention to the hedge across from us that was currently being pruned. Then I imagined that hedge was Isla. Snip-snip-snip. "I grew up in a world without magic," I said. "I'm used to living without it, so I'm probably the best person to have to experience this…inability, because I never learned to rely on magic in the first place."

She pondered this for a moment, and I could tell she'd been hoping for a different response. "A world without magic," she said more to herself. "I can't even fathom it."

I didn't doubt there was an entire universe of things she couldn't fathom, but I was done with this conversation. I'd already endured more than I could stand, so I came up with a quick excuse before I could say something that would get me in trouble. "I don't mean to be rude, but I have some letters to write, so if you'll excuse me—" I started to get up.

"Your highness, I sought you out because I wanted to talk with you about last night."

I paused and looked down to find her smoothing the wrinkles from her gloves.

She stopped and looked up at me. "I hope I didn't give you the wrong impression."

"What impression would that be?"

"Well…" She laughed like a chord of bells. "I know how it might have looked, his lordship and me all alone in this garden at such an hour, and I don't deny I would've jumped to a similar conclusion, had our roles been reversed."

I stared at her, keeping my expression blank.

"But I assure you we were only taking a midnight stroll," she continued in a syrupy voice. "We both adore them, you know—Lord Danton and I. Coming out here when it's quiet and there aren't so many listening ears. We can talk about so many things, confide in one another about politics and philosophy and books and dreams—without fret of being overheard. He and I are engaged to be married, you know, and I feel fortunate to be engaged to a man who values my ideals and opinions."

That answered that question: He hadn't told her yet. Fine. And it seemed Danton had a grab bag of one-liners he liked to throw at women.  "What do you want, Isla?" I snapped. "Really. I know you're not here because you care what I think."

She looked so genuinely astonished I almost complimented her for the act. She even splayed fingers over her heart, or where her heart would be if she'd had one.

"Why of course I care what you think, your highness," she said. "If there's any opinion I hold dear, it would be yours. I'll admit you and I might have gotten off on the wrong footing, but I believe it was all just a misunderstanding on my part and I would really like for the two of us to be friends."

Despite myself, I laughed, then hid it with a cough. "I don't think that's possible."

She looked stricken.

Bravo, Isla!

"Your highness, whatever I've done to offend you, I am truly sorry. I only thought, since we share a common acquaintance, it would make things easier if we were on the same side."

"And which side is that?" I stood, looking down into her face of Grammy-Award winning innocence.

"Why, in this male-dominated world, we females must stick together, your highness. Watch out for one another, you know, since we are both guests in this house, but also because our reputations are all we have to recommend us."

"Thanks for your concern, but I'd rather look out for my own reputation." I smiled tightly then turned away from her.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to."

I looked at her over my shoulder. She'd lost the disguise, eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed with anger. Finally! "You know, Isla, I think that is the only honest thing you've said to me in the last ten minutes."

Her fingers flexed over her gloves. "You don't want me as your enemy. You've no idea the things I could do—"

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," I cut her off, turning to face her completely. "I know your type. You have nothing of any value to offer society, so you spin lies, hoping to elevate your own standing by bringing others down. You think a pretty face and coquetry will get you whatever you want, and maybe, in your case, you're right. It seems to have worked pretty well for you so far, otherwise you wouldn't be standing here now, engaged to Lord Danton. You're good at spinning sticky webs, I'll give you that. But you should stop wasting your energy on me. I've faced pykans and barghests and shadowguard and gargons, and I've fought against an army of dead men. I am
not
afraid of you. Say what you want about me; I don't care. Spread your lies and filth, but I will not be goaded into this manipulative, political chatter another second, so unless you have something honest and important to say, quit wasting both of our time and leave me alone."

Hell, fire, and brimstone…right on your head.

I hadn't really meant to say all of that, but once I'd started I couldn't stop. At some point during my monologue, her cherry-red lips had parted and she'd gaped at me as if I'd suddenly started speaking Parseltongue.