Heartless(55)
“I rather enjoy nonsense. What else can you make?”
“Most anything once I’ve seen a recipe for it. Pies. Tarts. Biscuits. Seed cakes, even—do you think Mr. Raven would care for one of those? I noticed he didn’t seem tempted by the macarons…” She hesitated and cast a suspicious look at Jest from the corner of her eye. “Or, would you like a seed cake? I’m not yet certain whether you’re more man or bird.”
Jest laughed. “Unfortunately, if Raven were to sample your seed cakes and find that he enjoyed them, it might ruin his impeccable ability to brood.” One of his fingertips traced the back of Cath’s hand. “As for me, I trust I would like most anything you made, if the macarons are any indication.”
She risked a bashful glance at him. Jest returned the look, before continuing, “The King mentioned some tarts you brought to the ball. I didn’t give it much thought at the time—I’d assumed your cook had been the one to make them, but now … I understand why he’s so drawn to you. You aren’t only talented, but … do you know, you’re extra beautiful when you talk about baking. You know you’re good at it, and that knowledge lights you up.”
Cath’s defenses shivered and she had to look away, flattered and flustered and …
Newly miserable.
She hadn’t thought of the King all night, what with Jest and the party and … and what had come afterward.
He was no longer simply the King, though. He was her suitor.
Now that the evening was at its end, no longer full of potential and impossibilities, her decisions seemed unbearably foolish. What could she be thinking, sneaking about with the court joker? Her parents would be mortified if they found out. Her reputation would be ruined.
“It’s only a silly hobby,” she muttered as they turned onto the drive of Rock Turtle Cove Manor. Her heels were loud on the cobblestones, so she tried to stay on her toes. Jest, on the other hand, walked like falling snowflakes. “It’s nice to be good at something, though. It’s not what my parents wanted me to be good at, but it is something.” She sighed. “Whereas you seem to be good at everything.”
“Not everything,” he said. “Would you believe I’ve never so much as held an eggbeater?”
“Scandalous!”
He grinned at her, and she was surprised at how much she wanted to tell him about the bakery she and Mary Ann were going to open. The desire to bring him into her fantasy was fast and fervent, maybe even to tell him of how she’d begun to dream of him being a part of it all. But she and Mary Ann hadn’t told anyone about their plans, other than the Duke, which had been necessary, and to tell Jest felt like it would have been a betrayal of her oldest friendship. That alone held her tongue.
“You don’t have to walk me all the way to the house,” she said, realizing that her feet were dragging more with every step.
“Stuff and nonsense. After the night we’ve had, I couldn’t imagine deserting you before you’ve been seen safely to your door. Or, window.”
Catherine was unwilling to argue. They cut across the grass, damp and soft from dew. Morning dew? The whole night had been whiled away, yet it seemed as if she had just left.
Her gaze traced the boughs of the lemon tree to her bedroom window. The glass was black as pitch. The hearth fire had burned down hours ago.
“I suppose now you’re going to grow wings and fly us up there?”
“Unfortunately my wings come only in one size, and they wouldn’t be helpful in this circumstance.” His jaw clenched, his yellow eyes raw with uncertainty. “You asked if I was man or bird, Lady Pinkerton, but I’m neither.” He drew in a long breath and turned to face her fully. “I’m a Rook, as is Raven.”
She tilted her head. “Isn’t a rook a type of bird?”
“In Hearts, perhaps.” His fingers tightened around hers. “But in Chess, we are protectors of the White Queen.”
She held his gaze, trying to puzzle through his words, unsure if this was another riddle. “Chess?”
His head shifted in what could have been a nod. “That’s where Raven and I come from.”
“Chess.” The word was little more than a breath now, spoken with awe. Chess. The Land of the Red and White Queendoms.
She had never known anyone from Chess. There were rumors that one could travel between the two lands, but there was a maze that no one knew how to get to, and a doorway said to be guarded by fate itself.
But such rumors could all be fairy tales as far as she knew.
“If you’re a protector of the White Queen,” she said, “whatever are you doing here?”
“It’s … complicated.” He seemed to be fighting with an explanation. “The Queen sent us here on a mission of sorts. One that could determine the fate of Chess. One that could end the war between her and the Red Queen, a war that is as old as Time himself.”
Cath gaped at him, wondering how there ever could have been a time when she had looked at this man and seen only a joker—all pranks and magic.
He was from Chess.
He was on a mission that could end a war.
He was the protector of a queen.
Her heart suddenly twisted, and she was surprised at how much it hurt. “Then how long will you be in Hearts?” she asked, not caring how the unexpected sorrow showed in her question.