In Her Shadow(15)

This marriage was supposed to be a political transaction. He couldn't afford emotional attachment to anyone except his immediate family. Even then he worried. His father was old, had lived a good life. If he should die, Dux Lucius would grieve as proper for any son, but if Ava died. . . He couldn't bring himself to even consider the thought. Proof that he was a long way from truly ruling his emotions. When Shavana, his first wife, died, it had almost broken him. That was the reason he'd studied with the Disciples of the Sun Triumphant. He didn't want to hurt anymore. After a while, through proper affirmations, meditations and exercises, he'd learned not to. Time too. Time helped, he wasn't a fool. But perhaps the healing was a little quicker. Though the painful memories of her slow, miserable death lingered, they weren't the open wounds they once were. He dare not ever love again, however; he couldn't stand to lose another.

His thoughts fell away like autumn leaves as he approached the abbey's gates. Old and worn, their time long gone, his assessment of the abbey's power appeared correct: it was waning. The rusted open, wrought iron gates proved that. So did the overgrown lawn whose grass sprouted up between the stone steps leading to the front porch. With its dark smooth stones piled into arched windows and doors, the abbey's tower loomed over him. The bottom, it was said, held a ballroom. Not unusual for Ankshara, but this one had once been the center of the priestesses' trade. A bawdy house, its lights now dim to the outside world. Why would the cloaked sisters possibly want to help him? His people had broken them. Their time was done. Surely their resentment would taint any attempted alliance.

Standing at the abbey's massive, oak front door, Lucius realized he'd made a mistake. He was about to leave when the door creaked open. A woman dressed from head to foot in a black cloak and veil peeked out. Even her eyes were covered by thin gauze, but her darting head made Lucius think she could see through it. "Come back after dark," she said. "We don't like doing our business here, but we will. Just not before dusk. You must be fresh off the boat."

"Well," he said, "I am fresh off the boat, but I'm not here for–" He stopped, trying to think of the right word. "That."

"Whatever your business, it's not to be done in the light of day." She backed away into the darkness of the hall behind her and began to shut the door.

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"I'm not – I'm not here to do any business that needs be hidden away. I'm not here to take a bribe or leave one. I'm not here to engage one of your priestesses for the night."

"Then why are you here?"

A thousand thoughts rushed through his head as he tried to pick out the right one, but too quickly and he found it hard to decide which was best. Which answer would leave him in a position of strength? "I am Dux Lucius."

"So you are here for a bribe, or to engage one of our priestesses," she said, and he could hear the smirk in her words.

"Please–" Again, Dux Lucius stopped himself short. Please? Really? So much for a position of strength.

"Please what?"

"I'm here to see the Abbess of Night."

"Then you certainly must come back after dusk, not before. She sees no one between sunrise and sunset. You understand? No one."

"Oh, uh. Then I apologize. I should have known."

"Yes, you should have."

"When would be a good time to–"

"Just shut the door in his face, Britta," called someone from behind the veiled woman.

She laughed and shut the door. Dux Lucius stood, blinking at where she'd stood.

***

"You shouldn't play with men like that," said Weboshi.

Britta leaned with her back against the door, trying to catch her breath from laughing. She pulled the veil off so she could wipe her eyes. "Come on, Weboshi. A little harmless fun. And if anyone could use it, it's that great old bore. You should have seen the look on his face! I didn't know planks of wood could look so surprised."

"You shouldn't push him. Men are dangerous."

Were they, though? The only men the priestesses knew were the type they met at the docks. Even with their authority, they weren't completely immune to the occasional sadist who lost himself in his hatred for all things female. She'd seen the scars on Weboshi's back, and more than a few cloaked sisters carried theirs deeper than flesh. But not all men were that way, they couldn't be.

"I don't think he is dangerous," she said.

"You think that sword is for show?"

"No, of course not. But–"

"But nothing. He's a soldier, the son of a conqueror. He's the new commander of the city's garrison. Men are dangerous, New Moon." Weboshi grit her teeth, her dark eyes reflecting little embers of candle light. "Regnal men most of all. Why do you think we had you go armed to your first meeting?"

Britta laughed.

"It's not funny."

"No, I know. It's just – I forgot all about the knife you gave me, even when we were attacked. Kept it tucked in my back the whole time."

"As long as you have it on you at all times when you're out and about."

"Do you really think he's that dangerous? That stiff neck? Anyway, we're to be married."