Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 02 (25 page)

I
didn’t move. “You couldn’t raise anchor?”

“Not
an inch. The paladin has made sure we’re not going anywhere.”

“Mychael
wouldn’t do that.” I said it, but I wasn’t so sure.

His
duty was to keep the Saghred on the island. Until I was no longer bonded to the
Saghred, that same mind-set would have to apply to me. Mychael would do his
duty at all costs.

"Damn,”
I muttered.

Phaelan
nodded slowly. “Now you’re getting the picture. Since he cut off one exit,
we’ll just take another. Tanik’s
Zephyr
is a nimble little craft, no
high tides needed for her to leave the harbor. He’ll drop us off at Mermeia. I
sent a message to Dad before we left Mermeia last week. By now he’ll be waiting
there just in case we need him.”

“Commodore”
Ryn Benares was Phaelan’s dad, my uncle, and the main reason the name Benares
struck terror everywhere it was mentioned. Beneath his reputation lurked a
softy, at least to his children—and Uncle Ryn considered me one of his own.
It’d be nice to see him again. From Mermeia we could go anywhere.

“What
about your crew?” I asked.

“What
about them?”

“When
Mychael finds out I’m missing, if he doesn’t put your ship on lockdown, the
Twelve will. Your crew will probably be taken into custody.”

Phaelan
shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. And they’ll probably be confined to the
ship, not taken into the citadel. No lawman I’ve ever run afoul of wants to
take a pirate crew off their ship and through town. Too many chances for bad
things to happen. And my crew’s known for bad things. Mychael, or whoever, will
leave my men right where they are. They’ll just post more guards. My men know
what to do. Lay low, keep quiet, and sit tight until I get back. It’s not like
they haven’t done it before. They know the drill.”

I
exhaled. “I don’t like it, but it’s like you said—we’re not exactly flush with
options here. Okay, listen up. One block down from Sirens is a row of town
houses. There’s a street that runs behind them. That time of night that street
should be nice and dark, and from there it’s a straight shot to the harbor.
We’ll meet there if we get separated.”

I
looked questioningly at Piaras. He nodded grimly.

Phaelan
clapped and rubbed his hands together. “Good, that’s settled.” He took a small
velvet pouch out of his doublet. “You said your gown’s black, right?”

I
nodded. Riston’s wife had gone shopping for me this morning. The fruit of her
labor hung in my closet. Normally I didn’t care for gowns, but I had to admit I
liked this one. It was the softest black velvet I’d ever felt, its long sleeves
were tight, and the gown itself was perfectly cut, sleekly styled, with a short
train. With my pale skin and red gold hair, black had always been my best
friend. If I had to walk into a hornet’s nest tonight—or make a quick
getaway—at least I’d look good doing it.

“Here.”
Phaelan tossed a drawstring bag to me. I opened it and a choker of creamy gray
pearls spilled out into my hand. The clasp was an ornate, diamond bow. Very
nice.

I
gave him my best fess-up look. “How hot is it?”

Phaelan’s
dark eyes went wide and innocent. “Pardon?”

“Hot,
stolen, missing, no longer where it’s supposed to be—”

He
grinned crookedly. “They’ve cooled down.”

“Is
there any chance the former owner will be at Sirens tonight?”

“That
would depend on who’s invited.”

“Maybe
a better question would be, ‘Who should I avoid?’ ”

He
shrugged. “I took it off a ship going to Nebia.”

“Are
there any Nebian royals or merchants among Ronan’s students?” I asked Piaras.

“Not
that I’m aware of.” The kid was fighting a grin and losing. I should have known
better than to think anyone in my family could set a good moral example. Though
it was nice to see Piaras smile.

I
sighed. “They are beautiful. I’ll chance it.”

“There’s
a matching bracelet and earrings in the bag, too,” Phaelan said brightly.

Of
course there were. Never let it be said my cousin stole anything halfway.

I
was bejeweled, my hair was up, and I was dressed—at least
from the front.

Riston’s
wife had bought a gown for me, but what she didn’t get was an extra pair of
hands to lace the thing up. The gown laced up the back, starting near the base
of my spine and ending just below my shoulder blades. All I saw when I looked
over my shoulder were open silk laces and a lot of exposed skin.

Crap.

Vegard’s
duties were about to expand to include dresser.

I
went to the door and yanked it open. Mychael was standing there in his steel
gray formal uniform, his fist raised to knock.

I
loved a man in uniform. I especially loved seeing this particular man in that
uniform. Mychael’s auburn hair was damp from a recent bath—and those sea blue
eyes were tracing every velvety curve of my gown. I smiled at him. A girl does
like to feel appreciated.

“You
were actually going to knock this time,” I said. “No kicking or blasting.”

Mychael
met my eyes. “I knocked last time. When you didn’t answer, then I kicked and
blasted. May I come in?”

I
stepped aside so he could.

Mychael
closed the door behind him. “Riston’s wife wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I—”

“Told
her what you would like?” I finished suggestively.

A
smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I thought you would agree with my
choice.”

“I
do. Do you like it?”

“Very
much so,” he murmured. “And the pearls match your eyes.”

My
hand went to the choker at my throat. “Phaelan brought them to me.”

“Legal
purchase or illegal acquisition?”

I let
out a short laugh. “Guess. However, he did say they’ve cooled off enough to
wear in public.”

The
gown slipped off my shoulder. I quickly pulled it back up, and clutched the
front of my bodice with the other hand.

Mychael
stepped back toward the door. “I can see you’re not finished dressing. I’ll
wait in—”

“No,
no. I need your hands.”

“My
what?”

I
half turned so Mychael could see my predicament. “I can’t go like this.”

I
heard a muffled noise and looked over my shoulder at him. He was laughing
silently.

“No,
you definitely shouldn’t go anywhere like that.” Mychael’s smile had reached
his eyes. He was looking at my bare back, but making no move to do anything
about making it less bare.

“If
you lace me up, we can go.” I turned my back to him. I waited and nothing
happened. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” I glanced over my shoulder
at him.

Mychael
was grinning like a little boy. “I can honestly say that you’re my first.”

I
felt my face getting warm, and quickly turned away. “It’s easy. You just start
at the bottom and work your way up.”

A
moment later, I felt his fingers on the base of my spine. His touch was like a
shock. I let out a little gasp before I could stop it.

He
paused. “I’m sorry.”

“Fine,”
I managed. “I’m fine. I must be a little ticklish down there. Go on.”

He
did and I bit my lip against the incredible sensations running up and down my spine
and spreading to other places. It was all I could do to stand still. I was glad
my back was to him and he couldn’t see my face.

“I
think I threaded the laces evenly before I put it on.” My mouth was suddenly
dry. “So all you should have to do is tighten them.”

Mychael
hesitated, his hands on my waist. “How tight do you like it?”

Oh
my.

“Breathing’s
good,” I told him. “I need air.” And I could use some more of it right now.

I
felt four tugs in sharp succession. If he kept that up, I was going to have to
hold on to the bedpost.

“How’s
that?” His voice had turned husky.

“That’s
good.” And then some. “Wait a minute. Let me . . .” I squirmed a little in the
bodice, took a good breath, then put my hands on my waist and pushed the fabric
toward the back. “There. That should work even better.”

Mychael’s
hands were warm against my bare back as he worked at the laces, and he was
standing so close that I could feel the heat from the rest of him.

Talk,
Raine. Talking will help.

“Vegard
said you and Justinius went to the elven embassy. You didn’t bring any embassy
guards with you, so I assume that I’m still a free woman, and Piaras isn’t
under protective custody.”

Mychael
gave the laces a sharp tug and I bit back a squeak.

“It
wasn’t for lack of trying on their part.” All signs of playful were gone.
“Giles Keril argued that since you’re a subject of the elven king, you should
be in their custody, not ours. I reminded him that the Isle of Mid is neutral
and that any person, regardless of their race or kingdom of birth— unless
convicted of a crime in an open court—is granted political asylum for as long
as they desire it.”

As he
talked, his hands became firm and sure on the laces. “So I have to officially
ask you.” His voice was low and close to my ear. “Do you desire it?”

I
froze. “Desire it?”

“Political
asylum.”

Oh,
that. “Yes, I desire it very much.”

“Good.
There’s a document in my office you’ll need to sign. Piaras will need to do the
same. I’ll take it from there.”

“So
that will just delay things until the Khrynsani and Balmorlan can get this into
open court.”

“Time
was something we were running out of. This will buy us some more. I
will
find a solution.”

I
wondered if my father had heard the same promise from his paladin before he was
forced to take the Saghred and run. Or in my case, just run. Time to change the
subject.

“I
sent a message to Sedge Rinker. I linked with—”

“I
know. Sedge was here when I got back. There are only a few places on the island
that we know of with cells like you described. I have some men checking them
out now.”

Mychael
put his hands firmly around my waist, lifted me a scant inch or two off the
floor, turned me so I was facing the door, and set me back down. “I need more
light,” he explained. “The fireplace is over here.”

Of
course.

“Did
Sedge know if the kidnapped boy is a spellsinger?” I asked.

Mychael
resumed tugging and tightening. “His name is Gustin Sorenson, and he graduated
two years ago. He’s a spellsinger in one of the nightclubs.”

“Mychael,
three spellsingers are no coincidence,” I said.

“I
agree.”

“And
Banan Ryce has yet to do anything with them or to them. That tells me he’s
probably not finished collecting. When I was in the tub, Sarad Nukpana said I
should look to my own people for who’s behind the kidnappings. I’m ashamed to
say it, but Taltek Balmorlan is an elf. That means he’s ‘my people.’ Banan and
his boys don’t come cheap, and the agency has some very deep pockets. Carnades
has me in his sights, but today he and Balmorlan went after Piaras with a
vengeance, and they almost got him. And in less than two hours, Ronan’s best
spellsingers— including Piaras—will be on Sirens’s stage.”

Mychael
finished my lacing with one last tug. “Yes, I know. I’ve already requested that
the recital be canceled, or at least postponed.”

“And?”

“Justinius
said no.”

I
turned and stared at him in disbelief. “
Justinius
said no
?
The
Twelve I could understand, but Justinius? His granddaughter is singing tonight.
He can’t possibly want her there. Students are missing, Mychael. They’re all
spellsingers. I’ve linked with them and they’re together.”

“I
believe you. But the recital is in less than two hours. As archmagus, Justinius
would need nothing short of a signed confession from Banan Ryce himself to stop
it now. His official stance is that three kidnapped students, regardless of
them all being spellsingers, doesn’t necessarily constitute a conspiracy.
Justinius said that warding the dressing-room mirrors at Sirens and posting
guards at the exits will be adequate to prevent any incident.”

I was
dumbfounded. “Is this the same Justinius who chewed out the Twelve this
afternoon?”

Mychael
took a breath and let it out. “Yes. He didn’t doubt what I told him; he just
knew the ramifications of canceling the recital.”

“I
can tell him what the ramifications will be if he doesn’t.”

“Raine,
it’s political.” Mychael said it like it left a foul taste in his mouth. “The
Twelve would outvote him, and after the dressing-down he gave most of them
after we left, they’d do just that, for spite if nothing else. He can’t afford
to jeopardize alumni goodwill on anything less than cold, hard facts.”