"Isn't it? Then why are you ignoring her connection to the Banished?"
He stopped and released my arm, pulling me into an alcove near the main vestibule. A marble bust of Lord Endrick gazed down on us here. How appropriate.
Simon said, "In the first place, I'm not ignoring anything! I just don't feel the need to share my deepest thoughts with the girl I'm--"
"Kidnapping? Whose life you're destroying?"
His eyes flashed, an honest reaction before he steadied himself again. "The girl who gave her word to cooperate with us. And in the second place, Trina is loyal to the Coracks and so am I. There is nothing more between us."
I stared back at him. "She might be loyal to the Coracks, but not in the same way you are. As someone who is in the process of lying to nearly every face I see, trust me when I say that I can recognize it in someone else. Find out the truth about her, or she could put both our lives at risk." He licked his lips, then held out his arm again. "Worry about your own traitors, not mine. You were right before. I shouldn't make you late for that supper."
Formal suppers were usually served in the great hall of Woodcourt. However, Gerald met us there and, with a polite bow, said, "Your father was unexpectedly called away by Lord Endrick. He sends his apologies and has ordered me to sit in on the supper in his place. We'll be in the small dining room."
"So it's just the three of us?" I asked. "You, me, and this Basil person?"
"This person is Prince Basil the Fifth of Reddengrad, son of King Albert and heir to the throne of Reddengrad."
I grimaced. "Can I just call him Basil?"
"Sir Basil is eager to meet you. Your father has told him all about you."
"If he truly had, then Sir Basil wouldn't be at all eager to meet me. I'm sure everything he's been told is an exaggeration, at best. Either that, or he's been forced here tonight, as I have."
"That's not the case, Lady Kestra, I assure you." Gerald signaled to Simon, who bowed to dismiss himself. "As Kestra's protector, you're expected to stand watch at the supper." He eyed me. "Unless the lady doesn't want you
there."
I didn't.
"It's not necessary for him to come," I told Gerald. "There won't be any trouble, I'm sure."
"I'll come anyway," Simon offered, ever vigilant. "We can't take any risks involving you ... my lady."
If Gerald had not been here, those words would've been the start of a glorious fight. As it was, I only took Gerald's arm, letting Simon trail behind us.
"I remember you from your earliest years," Gerald said as we walked.
"That cannot be true. No offense, Gerald, but if I had seen you before today, I would remember."
He smiled. "No offense is taken. I know how I look. But I have worked here for many years. Most of that time was belowground, where you'd never have seen me."
Belowground meant the dungeons, I was sure. Nothing else at Woodcourt fit that description. I stole a glance at Simon, warning him not to walk so close. If Gerald were to recognize him from six years ago, that would be a disaster.
Or it might make Gerald useful to the Corack plan. If he could be trusted, he might have some idea of where Risha's dagger was.
I quickly dismissed that thought. Gerald would surely have been questioned, probably by Lord Endrick himself. And nobody could be trusted. Nobody.
"What I meant to say, my lady, is that you have grown into an impressive young woman. If you ever need help, for any reason, then you can ask me."
I was in desperate need of help, but not from anyone who bowed to my father. Even if he meant well, Gerald's help could only sink me further into trouble.
Whatever I had expected Sir Basil to be, it was not who I saw as I entered the intimate dining room. He stood when I entered, giving me a low bow, which I returned with a halfhearted curtsy. Like most people raised in the softer climes to the south, his hair was light blond and hung in loose tousles from his head. He was tall and lean, near my age, and, as far as I could tell, made entirely of fluff.
He took my hand and gave it a kiss, though I quickly pulled away. He drew back, offended, but my sleeve was riding up on my wrist and I didn't want him to notice the wounds there. Hoping to cover, I said, "You make me blush, Sir Basil."
What a stupid thing to say! I didn't blush, and it was simply fine manners for him to have kissed my hand. It was fortunate that I didn't care what he thought of me, because otherwise, I'd have cared deeply that I had just taken on the role of a simpering ninny. That was almost worse than being a traitor.
"You are more beautiful than your father described," Basil said.