Homecoming (11 page)

Her mother frowned. “Perhaps as daily wear, but you are a lady of rank. You should wear something that says as much. How about this?” A soft, delicate dress of sea green was favored this time.

Wiley shivered. “Yeah, I can just see wearing that into a bar. Why not just say, ‘rape me’?”

“Rihlia!”

“Sorry, but I am not wearing that.” She did find a few dresses she liked; not as

many as her mother would have wanted, but Rhapsody did agree they were in good taste.

She ended up ordering the tunic set and four dresses. They took her measurements, made an appointment for a fitting and escaped.

Well, she escaped. The others left reluctantly, already discussing a side trip to the shoe store.

Desperate for a distraction, she looked around and spied a man selling weapons.

Knowing it would aggravate Rhapsody, she drifted closer and inspected his wares. A throwing knife on the black velvet caught her eye.

“May I help you?” the man asked politely. Seeing her interest, he handed her the knife. “Finest blades in the Citadel.”

She looked it over, wondering if that were true. Glancing around, she looked to see if there was anyone she could ask when her eyes fell on her Haunt bodyguards standing a discreet distance away. At first her courage failed her, but she stiffened her backbone and met the eyes of the captain. She’d heard Jayems call him Piper. “Could you, er,
change
so I can talk to you?”

In moments, he had obliged, shifting into a large, rather homely looking fellow.

“How can I help, my lady?”

Figuring Jayems wouldn’t hire anyone but the best, she handed him the throwing knife. “Is it the best in the Citadel?”

He turned the blade over in his hands and smiled. “It’s off balance and of inferior make.” He handed the blade back to the flustered merchant without expression, then looked back at her. “If you’d like to accompany me to the armory later, I’d be happy to help you choose suitable weapons and arrange for your instruction in their use.”

She laughed. “I’d like that.” She liked him, but she looked away as he
changed just the same. Some things were still too hard to watch.

The pace was wearing her down. To escape, she said, “I’m starving. Is it lunch time yet?”

They had lunch in a classy, energetic café that catered to an upscale crowd. The walls were white and decorated with flowering plants, mirrors and stained glass lamps.

Green wrought iron chairs graced each table, and the seats were upholstered in red and white striped canvas. Wiley had to admit the food was good, though her mother was doing her best to give her a belly ache. It wasn’t anything she said, it was the way she watched Wiley’s posture, scrutinized the way she ate. Wiley had never been accused of being Miss Manners, but she’d never seen the point of having no elbows on the table or chewing her food one hundred times. Content to live and let live, she ate in silence, in her accustomed way.

Until her mother dropped a bomb into the conversation, that is.

Rhapsody smiled fondly and said, “We must start making plans for the wedding ceremony. I can’t wait to see you finally settled.”

A muscle jumped in Wiley’s jaw. “You’ll be waiting a while. I’m not planning to get married for a long time.”

“Oh, but Jayems--”

“Isn’t my concern. I’m not marrying him.”

There was silence for all of five seconds. “But you’re betrothed!”

Wiley took a deliberate bite of her pot pie, savoring the rich wine gravy. “Not my doing, not my problem. He’ll have to find someone else to marry.”

Rhapsody opened her mouth and sucked in air, but Portae laid a hand on her arm, cutting her off. “Not here, sister.”

Rhapsody snapped her mouth shut and applied herself to her wine instead.

Enjoying the fact that her mother wouldn’t make a scene in public, Wiley took her time finishing her meal and made sure to order dessert. If the only enjoyment she was going to get out of the day was Drunken Nut Cake, then she was going to savor every rich bite.

She collected Jasmine as soon as she got back to the Citadel and persuaded her to come to the armory with her. Opposed as she usually was to exercise, Jas had a fatal attraction to martial arts. With her escort and Wiley’s trailing behind--all except for Piper, who lead the way--they made quite a parade. Between the two of them, they attracted a lot of attention.

Even Jasmine noticed. “Check it out. You’re the center of attention. ‘Lost Princess Returns.’ If I’d had any idea, I’d have pre-sold the movie rights.”

“Very funny.”

“Hey, there are worse things than being rich and famous.”

“I’m not rich.”

“You sure? I thought it kind of came with the princess gig.”

“Technically, I’m not a princess.”

“No problem. We can still make our fortune. We’ll just set up a table in the marketplace and fleece passing shoppers at poker.”

Wiley laughed. “You didn’t do so good when you played Keilor. Seems to me you spent more time losing and paying with kisses.”

Jasmine flushed and looked around guiltily, as if their guards hadn’t already heard every word. “Shh! Besides, that whole kissing thing was his idea.”

“You liked it.”

“Did not!”

Wiley just looked at her.

Jasmine’s color deepened. “Besides, I’m sure he’s some kind of womanizer. Just look at the guy. He’s got trouble written all over him.”

“Sometimes that’s the best kind of man,” Wiley purred, enjoying herself.

Jasmine changed tactics. “Yeah? Is that why you like Jayems so much?”

That instantly sobered her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was Jas’ turn to look superior, and she looked relieved to do it. “That’s good to know. It means I can stop carrying around that heavy fire extinguisher whenever you two get together. Though what you see in …” She put her hand on Wiley’s arm when she saw her expression. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know … I’ll shut up.”

“Thanks.” Wiley’s throat ached. She didn’t want to talk about Jayems anymore.

Jasmine looked around for a moment, as if searching for something. Her gaze landed on a low stone wall. “Oh, look! Betcha I can walk on it longer than you.” She boosted herself up on it, ignoring the odd looks sent her way. She gave Wiley a wicked grin. “Don’t be shy, now.”

Wiley laughed at the idea. If Jas wasn’t in her typical dreamy mode, she’d be the one nervous about the attention she was getting. Still, she was trying to make her feel better, so Wiley swung up. “Don’t blame me when you break a leg.”

“Contrary to popular opinion, I do have some athletic ability. Balance is one of

my highlights.”

“Oh, yeah? Look, there’s Keilor!” Wiley pointed, then instantly regretted her teasing as Jasmine’s head whipped up. She tipped and would have fallen if Piper hadn’t quickly reached out and steadied her.

“Th - thanks,” Jasmine stammered, unnerved by her close encounter, either with the sidewalk or the Haunt. She gave Wiley an evil look. “Brat.”

Wiley shrugged, thumbs tipped out, in apology.

With a snort of disgust, Jasmine stomped on along the wall’s edge. As it happened, the wall went right across from the armory. Ignoring Piper’s offered hand, Jasmine jumped down, landing rather heavily. As Wiley alighted next to her, she offered a small smile. “You’re going to have to get over this man-shy thing you have.” It wasn’t that. She knew what Jas was really afraid of, but if Jas wanted to bluff it out, she would let her. Wiley herself wasn’t all that comfortable around the Haunt yet.

Jas looked at her dead on. “I’m no coward, Wi.”

Affection and pride made Wiley smile. “No, you’re not. Come on. Let’s see if we can find something pointy to annoy the guys with.” She followed Piper into the armory, still smiling.

Jasmine was poisoned that night.

Jasmine had taken one drink of Wiley’s wine and stiffened. The glass had shattered in her hand, and moments later she’d been screaming, doubled up on the floor.

Keilor and Fallon had worked frantically to help her, and somebody had called the medics. Jayems had dragged Wiley back from the scene, calming her frantic struggles with gentle force. Even now, after they knew that it had been Jasmine’s dessert that was poisoned and not the wine, Wiley couldn’t shake the feeling that she was responsible.

Jasmine wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her.

Wiley sat in the hospital waiting room, scared to death that she was about to lose her best friend. They’d been having a family dinner. Things had been a little strained, what with Keilor and Jasmine trying to ignore each other and her mother trying to monopolize Wiley’s attention, but they’d almost finished up with no major problems.

That was, until Jasmine snatched a taste of Wiley’s wine.

Whimpering silently, Wiley put her face in her hands, then ran them through her hair. Jayems was there, lending silent support as Keilor and Fallon quietly argued who could have been responsible.

The medic finally came out and gave his report. It was grim. He mentioned possible brain damage and internal injuries to her organs. They wouldn’t know more until she woke up, and the recovery was bound to be slow.

The tears came afresh at the medic’s report. Fallon swore softly and Jayems put a supporting arm around her. She leaned into him and he kissed her hair. Poor Jasmine.

There was nothing more they could do there that night, so Jayems led her home, promising to let her spend all day with Jasmine tomorrow. Tonight, the medics were still working on her.

Wiley made it to their room and then collapsed on the couch. “I’m going to go back tonight, even if all I do is watch Jasmine sleeping. She needs to have someone with her.”

Jayems smiled and looked down, kissed her hand. “Keilor will be with her all night.”

She frowned at him. “It’s hardly going to cheer her up if she wakes up and sees him.”

“She might surprise you. You’d have to take a sword to Keilor to make him leave her tonight. He feels responsible.”

“Why? She wouldn’t even be here tonight if it weren’t for me,” she said in self-reproach.

He shook his head and brushed the hair away from her face. “You would have followed her, if things had been reversed. Keilor is head of security here. Among other things, he feels he should have kept her safe. How can he feel he’s doing his job if someone is poisoned at the very table he’s sitting at?”

“It’s not his fault!”

“I’m just telling you how he thinks. I’ve known him long enough to know.”

She gave a little shuddering sigh. “Why couldn’t it have been me? I probably could have recovered from something like this.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be so eager to court death, sweetheart. You both have enemies. It’s nothing you did to earn them. We just have to do a better job of protecting you. That’s our responsibility.”

She looked at him with wounded, vulnerable eyes. “It’s not.”

He couldn’t help it. He kissed her, swearing with his kiss what he couldn’t express with his voice. She needed him, and there was an age old comfort he could offer that neither of them would argue against.

She folded against him, needing the touch, craving the contact with his body. She was hesitant at first, afraid. He could hurt her right now.

As if he knew it, he slid her gently to the couch, his touch still comforting even as it explored her body, gently passed over her breast. The contact made her gasp, made her clutch at him as fire spiked through her. Oh, yes. She needed this. She knew where lovemaking could take her. It was making love with
him
that worried her.

He’d already stepped up the aid and comfort, though, and she was fast forgetting her worries. The man had his hand under her skirt, on the inside of her thigh. He didn’t touch the obvious place, though. Instead he caressed her hips slowly, traced her lower belly, massaged her thighs. Only when she made a desperate sound and parted her legs did he place a hand over her patch. The hand remained still.

Wiley whimpered and tugged at his wrist. He started to pull away.

“No! Please, right there.” She shuddered and tried to shift his fingers. His hand moved and his thumb caressed the inside of her thigh.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a husky voice. “I won’t ask again, sweetheart. I won’t let you change your mind.”