Sweep of the Heart (Innkeeper Chronicles #5)(36)

“She will see me,” Caldenia said.

And that didn’t sound ominous. Not at all.

We strolled out of the dining hall and back into the Grand ballroom. The sun was setting, and as we walked, the chamber transitioned from day to night, mimicking the sunset at the Capital. The floor and walls began to darken, steadily gaining a blue tint. Astronomical symbols of the Dominion shifted to sunset-orange. On the left side, where the sky dimmed, a faint edge of the purple moon slipped into view, delicate and pale as if cut from tulle. It would grow solid by the time we came back.

Crossing the Grand Ballroom took some time. We passed into a long hallway interrupted by arched floor to ceiling windows showing a projected view of Texas sunset over the never-ending fields.

“You could simply do that thing you do,” Caldenia waved her hand dismissively. “Instead of making us walk all the way.”

“But then how would we clear the air, Your Grace?”

Caldenia rolled her eyes.

“Are the decorations to your liking?”

“They’re adequate. Barely.”

We kept walking. If I had to make this trip longer to accomplish this conversation, I would “do that thing” I did. We would keep walking until both of us said what we had to say.

“You should have told me,” Caldenia said.

“I tried.”

“You should have tried harder.”

Sometimes the best defense is no defense at all. “You’re absolutely right, Your Grace. It’s my fault. I apologize.”

Caldenia glanced at me. If looks could cut, I’d have a big gash right between my eyes.

“Your insincere show of meekness will not pacify me.”

“Of course not.”

Caldenia stopped.

“Are you tired, Your Grace? Would you like a chair to rest in for a moment?”

“The audacity!”

I simply waited.

“I had no idea you had it in you.”

“I didn’t. Not always, but I had a very good teacher.”

Caldenia glared at me. “Yes, you did. And don’t you forget it.”

We resumed walking. She knew perfectly well that to tell her about the Sovereign, I would have had to cross the personal boundaries she had put in place. She would pardon me for respecting her wishes, but she would have never forgiven me for trampling on her freedom.

A part of her must’ve known. The description of the spousal selection had to have sounded familiar, so she must’ve suspected it and made a conscious or subconscious effort to avoid it. Caldenia was both perceptive and introspective. Her mind was as sharp as her teeth.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble this entire affair will bring?”

“Yes.”

“I very much doubt it. You’ve jumped into the whirlpool, and you’re in danger of drowning.”

“If I do drown, would you throw me a rope so I can pull myself out, Your Grace?”

She arched her eyebrows. “Do we have that kind of relationship?”

“That’s up to you, Your Grace.”

I halted. The distant door at the end of the hallway rushed at us and stopped two feet from me.

“If any harm comes to the Sovereign, the Assembly will take my inn. If anything happens to one of the guests on my watch, I may as well surrender the inn, since I wouldn’t deserve it.”

“Are you threatening me with the loss of my safe haven?” Caldenia’s eyes blazed.

“No. You are a guest, Your Grace. My very first one. Your wellbeing and safety are my first priority. I am simply advising you of facts. I hope that when things become dire, you would give me your guidance as you have in the past. Do you still wish to see Lady Wexyn?”

She tilted her chin up. “Yes.”

I knocked on the door. “Her Grace Caldenia ka ret Magren to see Lady Wexyn Dion-Dian.”

The door swung open, and a veiled male attendant with dark eyeliner, broad shoulders, and tan muscular arms invited us in with a bow. We followed him inside.

The door opened to the courtyard paved with pale brown stones. A brook wound its way around it, spilling into a wide pond. Beautiful Fortune trees leaned over the blue pond like slender women, dripping their long branches with lemon-yellow leaves into the water. An ornate wooden pavilion perched on the shore, cushioned in Fortune trees and ornamental shrubs. Within the pavilion, Lady Wexyn reclined on a chaise, sipping tea from a flower-shaped cup.

She had traded her spectacular golden tree for a small crown of glittering green jewels that was likely worth millions but seemed modest in comparison. A chocolate-brown, diaphanous skirt hid her legs, secured by a wide sash of lighter russet embroidered with gold. The sash wound around her hips, clasped in place with an elaborate golden brooch showcasing a green gemstone the size of a walnut. A pale, rose gold top wrapped her ample breasts, leaving the soft stomach bare. Another wide translucent sash, this one green, completed the outfit, draping strategically over her shoulders and waist. She was barefoot and a dozen thin bracelets and anklets decorated her wrists and ankles.

She saw Caldenia and rose in one fluid movement, dipping her head. Her dark eyes sparkled. “Letere Olivione! You honor me.”

“Greetings,” Caldenia said, her face radiating menace. Her Grace, joy personified.

Lady Wexyn lowered herself to the chaise. Everything she did was beautiful. She was like a gifted artist who painted with her body instead of a brush.