“Kaden,” I whispered. “Tell me about your mother.”
Her name was Cataryn. She was very young when she was hired on as governess by a lord and his wife, but soon they discovered she had the gift as well. The lady pressed her daily for thoughts on her own young sons, but soon the lord pressed her for other things. Kaden was born and knew no other way of life. He thought it was normal to live in a cottage on his father’s estate. When his mother became ill and her life was quickly withering away, she begged the lord to take Kaden into the manor. The lady would have none of it. A bastard wouldn’t be raised with her noble-bred sons, and even though the lord promised Cataryn he would take Kaden, it seemed he had agreed with his wife all along. His mother wasn’t even cold yet when Kaden was given to passing beggars without a backward glance.
His mother was beautiful, crystal-blue eyes, black hair that was soft and long. Gentle and slow to anger, she was a teacher above all. She tutored Kaden right along with the lord’s sons. At night in the cottage, they looked out the window at the stars, and she whispered the stories of the ages, and Kaden repeated them back to her. He was too young to fully understand why the lord’s sons received special privilege, but when he became angry about it, his mother would gather him in her arms and croon against his cheek that he was far richer in the things that mattered because he had a mother who had more love for him than the whole universe could contain.
But then suddenly, he didn’t have her. He had nothing. One of his biggest regrets was that he bore his father’s white-blond hair and brown eyes. When he looked in a mirror, he at least wanted to see some measure of his mother.
“I see her, Kaden,” I said. “I see her in you every day. From the moment I met you, I saw your calmness, your tender ways. Pauline herself told me you had kind eyes. That’s more important than their color.”
He remained silent except for a low, shaky breath.
And then we both went to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
He was up early, before the sun, before stirrings, before clops or neighs or the first birds of morning. It felt as though we had just gone to sleep. He lit a candle and stuffed his saddlebag.
I stretched in my bed and stood, pulling the quilt over my shoulders.
“I’ve left some supplies for you in the bag by the door,” he said. “I raided the kitchen for what food I could so you can leave the room as little as possible. I arranged for Aster, Eben, and Griz to come check on you each day. With luck, we’ll meet the governor on the road and we’ll be back by nightfa
ll.”
“And if you’re not?”
“His province is in the far south of Venda. It’ll be a few weeks.”
So much could happen in a few weeks. In a few days. But I didn’t say it. I could see the same thought in his eyes. I only nodded, and he turned to leave.
I blurted out a question that burned in me when he reached the door. “Which lord was it, Kaden? Who did this to you?”
His hand paused on the latch and then he looked back over his shoulder. “Does it really matter which one? Doesn’t every lord have his bastards?”
“Yes, it does matter. Not every lord is a depraved monster like your father. You can’t stop believing in the good ones.”
“But I have,” he said. His voice was empty of emotion, and his resignation tore through me. He turned back to the door as if to leave, but stood there not moving.
“Kaden?” I whispered.
He dropped his saddlebag and walked back to me, cupped my face in his hands, his eyes warm and hungry, and kissed me, his lips soft against mine, then harder, earnest, my mouth meeting his with tenderness. He slowly pulled away and looked into my eyes.
“A real kiss,” he said. “That’s what I needed, just one more time.”
He turned away, grabbed his saddlebag, and left.
And twice in the space of just a few hours, I was breathless as he left the room.
I closed my eyes, hating myself. I found no satisfaction in the fact that I had become as accomplished at deception as Kaden. All I tasted on my lips was my carefully calculated lie.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The door shook with pounding from the other side. I knew it wasn’t Aster or Eben. Not even Malich. Kaden had said Malich would be occupied with duties all day. It was at night that I had to be watchful. Another impatient knock. I hadn’t properly dressed yet or combed my hair. What fool didn’t know I was locked in and a key was required to open the door? Griz?
I finally heard the rattle of a key in the lock, and the door opened.
It was the Komizar.
“Most doors in the Sanctum aren’t locked. I’m not in the habit of calling someone for a key.” He walked in past me. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “Do you have anything proper for riding? Or did the Meurasi only clothe you with their dress of rags?”