Hands Like Secrets, page 14
The school has long boasted that, so long as her towers are manned, her perimeter wards are maintained, and the Arch is in working order, no person can pass into or out of Aschamon undetected.
Except for Rafel, apparently. And now, hopefully, me.
Once through the gates, I dodge to the side and press against the outer wall. Murmuring voices reach my ears as the guards continue their interrogation, then silence.
A single pair of footsteps approach.
Fien saunters alone through the gates. Air whooshes out of my lungs; their eyes snap toward me. Since we’d watched each other ward, my form does not hinder their ability to see me. Without a word, they set off on the winding, tree-lined avenue that leads down into Aschera proper.
I fall into step beside them.
“I assume they bought it?” I ask after I’m sure we’re out of audible range.
“Yes,” they answer. “Though it was a near thing. Thank Isasar we had Yan get that note; I don’t think they would have believed me otherwise.”
“You don’t know how grateful I am—” I begin, but they cut me off.
“Introduce me to your beau, and we’ll call it even.”
I grind my teeth; I’ll never talk them out of it now. But surely Rafel will be in disguise? I’ll have to clue him in somehow and hope he cooperates.
“All right.” Blast, this trip is already becoming complicated.
Fien looks down at the ground as we walk and lowers their voice. “I still don’t like that we had to trick Yan to get that note.”
My heart squeezes painfully.
“I don’t, either. But it was the only way.”
The gate guards keep logs of everything that happens during a shift. They’ll certainly report Fien’s “test,” and if it’s discovered that no one authorized one, the guards will know it had been a cover for something else. Since Fien is my roommate, it wouldn’t take a genius to guess they’d been sneaking me out.
We’d spent half a day brainstorming the problem. The only possible solution was to convince Professor Lars that a real test was necessary and get him to authorize one of us to do it. I couldn’t ask, even with the clout of an Anjahel; I’m too new to the rank, and it would be suspicious for me to go testing the system meant to keep me in. Fien couldn’t ask because they were too close to me. Fien’s friends would inevitably ask too many questions, and I don’t have any other friends.
That left Yan.
Yan: a senior red cord, on very good terms with Lars, and known for his honesty. No one would ever suspect him of helping another student sneak off campus. He was perfect...except, of course, for the inconvenient fact that Yan never would help another student sneak off campus.
Especially if said student had already twice run afoul of the enemy and was supposed to be confined for her own safety.
Especially if Yan had certain feelings for said student.
I’d told Fien about our chat in the infirmary, and they agreed that he’d never help if he knew what we were up to. But we had to have that authorization.
So Fien and I convinced Yan that this whole mess with Rafel had made me nervous, that someone ought to test the guards’ vigilance before he tried again, and that Fien was an unassuming and therefore ideal person.
Yan had gotten our official clearance from Professor Lars that same day.
I’d hated that deception, even worse than I hated getting Fien involved. Yan will probably never speak to me again if he finds out what we’ve done this night. However, I remind myself, again, that I have no choice but to deal with the Rafel problem before Midsummer.
We leave the tree-lined road, step onto Main Street, and ‘port down to Central Plaza, shaving a good half-watch of walking time from our journey. I shrug off Bluefly; no one on the school wall would see us from here.
I’ll hear Rafel out, and I’ll make him understand that if he keeps coming after me, he’s going to get caught, and they’ll likely kill us both.
Isasar, God of Light, please let this be the end of it.
It felt like I’d been doing a lot of praying these last two days. Maybe now that I’m an Anjahel, the white god will deign to answer from time to time.
The sun dips behind the tallest buildings as we approach the corner of Main and Koel Streets. The Sari Café’s distinctive, green-tinted windows glimmer in the evening light. We have a little over a watch and a half before Aschamon’s gates close.
Rafel is nowhere to be seen.
The restaurant is crowded, further ratcheting up my anxiety; we’re made to wait for another quarter-watch just to sit down. My stomach is in knots by the time I sink into a squishy booth and Fien orders a pot of sweet blossom tea.
“Is he here?” they ask.
“No.” My voice sounds strange in my ears.
“At least tell me what he looks like.” Fien grins at me. At least they’re having a good time. “I can help you watch for him.”
“Um. He has blue eyes.” My hands twist in my lap. “And brown hair, kind of long.”
Face like a seraph, tipping hot, you literally cannot miss him.
No, I can’t say any of that.
What will he be wearing? I’ve never seen him in any color except black and Cowl red, but he surely wouldn’t dare show up at a place like this in his raiding gear. That leaves...what? How do typical Cowls dress when they aren’t kidnapping and murdering people?
I realize I have no idea.
Will he even approach with Fien sitting across from me, or should I give them the slip and look for him?
Why did he insist on this crowded place to meet?
“Is he handsome?” Fien’s eyes sparkle.
Gods, yes.
“If looks could kill,” I say, “I’d be dead.”
My sarcasm earns a snort from my roommate. I only wish the dead part was the joke.
Now that I’m here, amongst all these unsuspecting cowens, my confidence is failing fast. This is a bad idea. I’m endangering myself, not to mention Fien and everyone else, by flouting the HP’s orders like this. I am Anjahel, for Isasar’s sake...what am I doing?
Our tea arrives. I pour myself a cup, even though I don’t especially like the tangy brew. Sipping occupies my hands and mouth, saving my scalp and fingernails from nervous abuse.
The minutes drag; still no Rafel.
Fien talks, and I try to listen, but every sudden movement in my periphery makes me startle. And there are a lot of people moving around, and the noise...
What if he doesn’t show up at all?
Gods, what if he does, and he does something awful to all these people? He is a Cowl, after all. Who knew what he would do?
I can’t take it anymore.
“I’ll be right back.” I slide out of the booth. “Water closet.”
Fien pours the last of the tea and waves me on. “He’d better show up soon. We’ve only got half a watch before we need to walk back.”
I wind my way among the tables toward the back hallway, where the facilities are. A green beaded curtain separates the hallway from the main room. I push through and exhale, relieved to be away from the worst of the noise.
It’s cooler back here, too, and dark; the only light comes from a dim qi-globe at the end of the hallway. The café’s resident gila-catcher, a glossy green and orange snake as thick as my arm and twice as long, slithers up and butts against my ankle.
“Hey, Bruin.” I pick up the friendly serpent and lean against the wall, draping his lithe weight across my shoulders. Most shops keep a snake or two around; the poisonous gila lizards and annoying nappers that infest urban places tend to get out of control otherwise.
This is insane, I chide myself, closing my eyes as I stroke Bruin’s smooth scales. He was either playing you for a fool, or he’s planning something awful. Regardless, you and Fien are going back to Aschamon. This was a bad idea.
The beaded curtain clacks; I catch a whiff of a familiar masculine scent. My heart turns over in my chest.
“Hiding, are we?” he croons in my ear.
I keep my eyes closed for a moment. As much as I’ve dreaded hearing it again, that voice makes my insides twist in longing.
“Rafel.” I open my eyes and gasp when his hand whips up to cover my mouth. Bruin hisses a warning at the sudden movement.
“Do not use my real name.” Rafel leans close, ignoring the snake. His voice is liquid, edged sunshine. “Tonight, my name is Aeden. Understand?”
I nod.
He removes his hand and leans against the opposite wall. I let Bruin down with shaking hands; the serpent slithers out into the main room as Rafel and I continue to stare at each other.
He’s dressed like an average cowen: brown breeches, homespun beige shirt, and a knee-length leather craftsmen vest. I choose not to speculate how he’d gotten his hands on such clothes. In place of a Cowl, he’s worn his golden-brown hair loose around his face and shoulders, lending an untamed edge to his already dangerous beauty. His pale blue eyes glint in the dim light.
I swallow. My earlier quip to Fien doesn’t seem like an exaggeration now; he really is drop-dead gorgeous.
The absurdity of this moment hits me then, and I choke down a hysterical laugh. Here I am, an Anjahel of Aschamon, face-to-face again with the most notorious Cowl assassin of our time, admiring his looks.
In a Mantle restaurant, in a Mantle city, surrounded by Mantle cowens.
“Look, this was a bad idea,” I rasp, finding my voice. “My roommate’s here, and —”
“You didn’t come alone?” One perfectly arched eyebrow shoots up.
“I couldn’t.” I pause and take a breath. “I’m not supposed to be out in the city at all. The Priestess confined me to campus after you...after the other night. I had to sneak out, and I have to be back really soon.”
“They’re protecting you.” A pleased smirk curls his lips, one that makes my stomach clench. “I’ve made them nervous.”
“Nervous enough for them to make me a Mantle,” I say wryly. Best get that out in the open as soon as possible.
I’m still unprepared for his response.
“They what?” he snarls, seizing my arm.
Adrenaline crashes through me at his scary expression. I figured he’d be upset, but Rafel looks ready to put a fist through the wall. Or through me.
“They...they reckon I saved the High Priestess’ life the night you broke in,” I explain hastily. “They gave me the Mantle for heroism, and to make you leave me alone.”
He closes his eyes.
“I supposed they’ve dedicated you and everything?” he asks in a deceptively calm voice.
“N-no. Not yet.”
His eyes fly back open. They narrow, and for a long moment, he stares so intently I swear I can feel the force of it on my energy nodes.
“They haven’t,” he breathes at last.
“They’re waiting for Midsummer. That’s why I’m confined to campus.” The sudden change in his attitude throws me. “What difference does it make?”
Rafel backs up.
“It’s nothing less than the difference between a Mantle and a gray.” He chuckles. “Oh, those fools. They should have claimed you when they had the chance.”
I bristle. “What’s that supposed to mean? They have claimed me.”
“But the silver god has not.” He grins at my startled expression. “Did you think dedication was just a ceremony? You should be pleased. It means you can still help me.”
Part of me wants to do anything he says when he smiles like that. I grit my teeth.
“Don’t start with the pleasant act again,” I hiss. “Because so help me, I will walk out of here—”
“Saeli?” Fien’s voice rings out over the general hubbub from the main room. “Did you fall in, or what?”
Chapter 17
My gaze snaps to the hallway entrance, picking out their silhouette moving closer.
“Blast.” I look around wildly. I don’t want Fien to find me back here with Rafel, not before I’ve finished explaining the situation. Maybe he can hide in the water closet? Which door is it?
“Friend of yours?” My panic appears to amuse him.
“My roommate.” I try the nearest doorknob. Locked. Damn. “They think I’m meeting a beau.”
He scratches his chin, peering through the curtain.
“Does she now.”
Before I can even correct his misgendering, Rafel seizes me around the waist and pushes me against the wall, though he isn’t rough about it. I gasp anyway. He puts a shoulder between me and the hallway and bends his face to mine.
“I don’t hurt cowens, Saeli, but Mantle majahel are another matter,” he murmurs in my ear, sending a puff of warm breath down my neck. Several locks of his hair slide down to tickle my cheek. “I will play along if you get rid of her.”
“They.”
“They what?”
“You keep saying she and her, but it’s they and them,” I explain, barely able to get the words out. He’s just so close.
Rafel rolls his eyes and lays a hand on my cheek.
“What are you doing?” I squeak.
“Kissing you.”
“What?” My brain sputters like a broken qi-lamp. “No, you’re not!”
He smirks, sending a rush of desire through me so strong that for a moment I can’t breathe. His scent and his closeness are making it hard to resist kissing him for real, even with the threat he’d just made.
Behind us, I hear the bead curtain being drawn aside.
“Saeli?” Fien says. “Oh...!” Behind Rafel’s curtain of hair, I see them bob to a halt.
I duck out of the pseudo-embrace, my face on fire. Strands, I’m shaking all over. I hate to imagine the state I’d be in if that had been an actual kiss.
“Fien,” I stammer, glancing at Rafel. He wears a convincing expression of chagrin, like we had been interrupted while doing something naughty. I swallow hard. Nope, nope, not going there. “Uh, I’d like you to meet, um—”
“Aeden.” Rafel steps forward and takes one of Fien’s hands. He brushes it against his lips, unleashing the full force of his seductive smile. “You must be Saeli’s roommate. She’s told me so much about you.”
I just stare. Fien also stares, with their mouth open in a little “o” of surprise.
“Nice to meet you,” they say in a faint voice, pulling away and twisting their hands together. They look at me. “This is him, then?”
“Yes,” I say flatly.
“I see I’ve been the subject of a few conversations as well.” Rafel comments in a wry voice.
Fien smirks, but he shoots me a look that makes my nape prickle. Sure, he’s charming as a snake, and willing to lie through his teeth, but how long will Rafel play nice before he loses patience? Am I imagining the barest hint of ice in those pale eyes? “Mantle majahel are another matter.”
I have to convince Fien to leave, now.
“Fien, would you mind terribly if, ah, Aeden and I talked alone for a little while?” I glance at him, and he nods, once. “We have some, ah, things to discuss.”
“Things, huh?” Fien winks at me. I fight to keep my expression blank. “I suppose I could find somewhere to hang out. You two can use our booth if you want.” They grin. “Unless you were thinking of somewhere more private.”
Plainly Fien doesn’t think we’ll be doing much talking. I stifle a glower. “The booth’s fine.”
“Why don’t I go make sure no one steals this booth of yours,” Rafel says. “You two chat for a moment.”
I shiver because no, I haven’t imagined the ice. Fien points out the booth; Rafel ducks through the curtain and saunters away, and I breathe the smallest sigh of relief. Fien turns to stare at me with wide green eyes.
“Great God of Light,” they say in a hushed voice. “Where in the strands did you find that gorgeous creature?”
My gaze remains on the beaded curtain, still clacking softly from his departure.
“You don’t want to know,” I grumble under my breath.
“What?”
“I mean...I know, right?” I correct in a louder voice. “He’s...” I lift a hand and drop it helplessly. Can I fault Fien for being suckered by Rafel’s charisma? His smile melts my insides, too, and I know better.
“No wonder you snuck out.” Fien pets my arm. “Do you want me to come back for you when it’s time to go?”
I shake my head. I want Fien away from here, out of danger.
They nod. “Fair enough. Just be back at the bottom of the hill before the next watch ends, okay? So they don’t lock us out.”
“You’re the best, Fien,” I say with a weak smile.
We return to our booth. The café is so busy they haven’t even picked up the empty teapot and cups. Rafel waits with his back against the wall on one side, legs stretched out under the table. Fien gives me another wink and a nudge.
“Jao!” they chirp, skipping away. A moment later, the door jingles, and their silhouette flits past the green-tinted windows outside. I’m glad they’re gone, for their sake...but now it’s just Rafel and me, in a room full of strangers.
His pale eyes follow me as I slide into the booth across from him.
“Not bad.” I hide my trembling hands under the table. “You almost had me convinced.”
He rests an elbow on the table, exposing the sweep of his collarbone and the shadowed hint of a muscled chest under the thin beige shirt.
“Almost?” he asks in a sly voice.
I grind my teeth, tearing my gaze away from his shirt’s neckline.
“Enough, Aeden.” I stress the fake name. “No more banter, no more threats. You wanted a fair hearing.” I raise my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Here I am.”
His smile fades into seriousness as he gives the room a once-over. I follow his gaze.
