“A familiar face amongst a crowd of strangers will always be welcome.”
“False. Try saying that sentence without gritting your teeth next time.”
Dropping her sewing project, finally acknowledging the light was too bad, Perri huffed out a small breath, causing the scarf to billow slightly for a moment. “Honestly, you seem nothing but intent upon colouring all my words and actions as nefarious of late. How is your head injury? Does it ache still?”
“My head is perfectly fine, thank you for your concern. And I don’t think nefarious is the right word, I believe dangerous would be more apt.”
“Dangerous?”
He could tell he’d confused her. “Whatever you’re barrelling towards with sudden and extreme haste may be a noble quest. But the Golden Palace is not Gloomenthrall woods. A very different kind of predator stalks the halls and drawing rooms there, hiding behind silks and satins, whispering false poetic words of flattery and admiration.” Brandth held his breath as Perri abruptly laughed, a husky melodic sound that lovebirds would have been jealous of. It made his gut heat and lurch for some reason, damn carriage, had to be the problem, it was stuffy as hell in here. “You find something amusing?”
“Just that you in your silks and satins, compliments falling from your lips with every conversation you hold with one of my kin, would choose to warn me about your kind. Having spent the last few days in my company, have I struck you as naïve? Stupid? Have I ever shown a tendency to prostrate myself before you, overcome by your considerable charm and golden tongue? Or, for that matter, displayed the inability to hold my own in a war of witty words and cloaked insults?”
Hah, and now Brandth’s ego was little dented. To be tarred with the same brush as all the malingering aristos that hung around the Palace. For some reason it annoyed him that Perri thought so very little of him. Although, he’d done little but laze about healing from the moment they met. Too often needling her to get a rise for his own amusement.
Brandth was a master of secrets and misdirection, so why then did he expect Perri to be able to see through the half-truths and charade that he presented to the world? Did it matter if she believed him to be nothing but a wastrel charmer, and lackey of the King? Of course not.
The only thing of importance was uncovering Perri’s mission objective and determining whether it was a threat to the Monarchy, the Prince, or the Realm. Brandth still questioned whether he had done the right thing by issuing Alia an invitation. It was all well and good to dabble in Talac’s life, the man was in a rut, one way or the other Brandth sensed Alia’s presence at the Palace would irrevocably alter his friend’s life… whether for good or ill remained to be seen.
Unable to precisely gauge how big a threat the Gloomenthrall ladies were, and to whom. Troubled, yet intrigued. Brandth had spoken truth, he would be staying at the Palace for the end of season festivities and he would be keeping a close eye upon Alia and Perri.
He was determined to uncover Perri’s secrets. Not just why she had insisted upon this journey. But what exactly she was hiding behind that scarf. He’d warned her about predators, but she didn’t appear to take him seriously. Pity she hadn’t, for one sat across from her right now, yes, dressed in silks and satins, but wearing an invisible mask of his own.
Brandth hesitated, in trying to uncover Perri’s secrets he would be forced into her company a lot. Perri was smart and observant, she would question his motives at every turn and had proven resistant to flattery or misdirection. Hah, perhaps he was the one at risk of having his secrets unravel… anticipation stirring in Brandth’s gut. A worthy adversary at last? Hah, what a pair they made… hmmm, what a pair indeed.
A waspish, no nonsense… intriguing healer, and a Lord of the Realm, renowned for his witty ways, good looks and charm. And yet… once all their secrets were laid bare, Brandth couldn’t help but wonder if they might have more in common than he had previously imagined. The idea should horrify him, yet his blood quickened with interest.
Brandth was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery that was Perri Gloomenthrall. To do so he would play the spy, the observer, the dressmaker’s dummy if need be. Assuming he survived the journey as the carriage lurched left and then lurched back, crud, that hurt. The things he did for King and the Realm.
Though a stray thought kept niggling away at the back of Brandth’s mind, was he really going to all this trouble and effort for the good of the Realm and duty? Was this quest perhaps not a little more personal? Yes, he despised secrets and liked to expose intrigue. But Brandth couldn’t deny that he felt a little… protective of Perri. Like a big brother, no, that felt wrong, like a grateful patient… no other reason than that. And it was only right that he stick by her side and defend her from all threats… whether she liked it or not.
Chapter Seventeen
Talac accompanied Brandth out into the courtyard as the sun left the horizon. His friend hobbling, already a dab hand at using his crutches, though Talac could tell from the faint white grooves bracketing his mouth, that even with the new sturdy steel enforced boot Brandth was in pain. Heaving himself awkwardly up into the waiting carriage took over a minute, accompanied by lots of groans and muttered curse words.
The men were ready, Brandth was safely tucked away in the carriage. Still Talac waited, his gaze travelling over the quiet courtyard. He’d been unable to track Alia down the previous day to bid her farewell. He’d presumed she’d appear to… exchange goodbyes.
Abruptly the Lair entrance doors swung open and she was striding out into the cool morning air. Dressed for riding, Talac noted. Following her was the mute lad and the masked healer, a grey veiled wraith, toting a carpet bag and several more servants behind her carrying piles of cloth, baskets of food, cushions, and other assorted things. It was kind of them to pad the royal coach for Brandth’s use, but once the healer boarded, she never reappeared.
Whilst the skinny mute wandered around the carriage, heading to the rear. At first Talac assumed he was rearranging the luggage on the rear platform, but instead it became apparent the lad was making himself at home between two of the softer bags.
Meanwhile, Alia was mounting her pitch black stallion that a stable hand had just led out of the Lair stables, noticeably not meeting Talac’s gaze, as if she were feeling ill at ease about something.
Talac’s just risen brain still yet to a make all the connections.
Sharing a puzzled look with Raschion, who was seated on top of the carriage, the reins lax in his hands. Talac manoeuvred his horse over to the carriage, peering inside the currently open window.
“Well?” Brandth’s tone sounded impatient and peevish with pain.
“Sire?” Very aware of several Lair inhabitants milling around and Alia and the healer’s presence.
“Let’s be off then. I doubt I’ll get any more comfortable, and it looks like our bridal candidate is ready and impatient to get on the road also. The sooner we get to Pallene and the Palace, the sooner she can proceed to dazzle our beloved Prince with her beauty, wit, and charm.”
Talac was confused, and then even more so when Brandth raised a hand and waved it in Alia’s general direction as he mentioned a bridal candidate. Wait! What?
“Who? Alia?” Alia? The Beast? Alia, the Beast of Gloomenthrall, was a bridal candidate for the hand of the Prince of the Realm? Alia?
“Yes. Yes.” Brandth acknowledged before picking up a nearby crutch and hitting the ceiling of the carriage with a thud. “Heave ho, Raschion.”
