State of Sorrow (Sorrow #1)(84)
“It wasn’t!”
“Good. You wouldn’t need to lie. Anyway, Madame Beliss lives in a charming, if unoriginally named, little place called Cottage Near the River, in the county of Starsia. So, I propose we send a bird to Irris and prolong our trip here. Take another detour on the way back to Rhannon.”
“You’re a genius.” Sorrow shook her head in awe. “Insane. But a genius.”
“Why, thank you. Now, you can go and get ready for tonight’s dinner. But be sure to continue ruminating on my genius as you do.”
Sorrow’s joy immediately soured.
Greetings from Rhannon
The dinner went smoothly enough, with Sorrow tactically delaying herself and Luvian so that everyone was already seated when they arrived, and leaving as soon as it was over, claiming she felt ill. It wasn’t even untrue; being in the same room as Rasmus, even though he didn’t so much as look in her direction, left her shaken and vulnerable.
So when Charon Day entered the ground floor parlour the following morning, Sorrow almost threw herself into his arms. She’d declined the offer to go on a celebratory hunt with the other guests, and had remained in her rooms, intent on brooding some more on the night before. But several birds had arrived for Luvian throughout the morning, turning their private parlour into part aviary, part office, and making it impossible for her to concentrate.
Luvian arranged the papers they’d brought into some order only recognizable to himself, and when Sorrow, deciding she might as well make herself useful, had tried to reach for one, he’d snatched it from her and told her to go away and let him do his job, only to call her back a moment later and shove his infernal missing child reports into her hands.
“You can carry on going through these,” he said, effectively dismissing her as he returned to his new tasks.
Miffed, she’d retreated to her room, only to be shooed out by Rhyllian maids armed with clean linen and dusters, muttering darkly as they began to tidy the room. And the main library was now Dain’s bedroom; she couldn’t exactly go and commandeer it to work in.
She’d eventually hidden herself away in the rose parlour with a pot of moonstar tea and the reports. She was going through them, her heart aching more and more with each child, when she heard the familiar whisper of wheels on the ground, and she looked up to see the vice chancellor of Rhannon.
“Charon,” she cried, putting the papers down with indecent haste, crossing the room in three steps and kneeling in front of his chair. Charon applied the brakes and took Sorrow’s face in his hands.
He didn’t speak at first, scanning her with practised eyes, nodding to himself as he took her in. Though it had only been little over a month since she’d last seen him at her father’s funeral, she did the same, checking him over for signs of strain or tiredness. She was pleased to see he looked well: bright-eyed, relaxed … and unmistakably happy to see her as his face broke into a grin. She drank the sight in, already feeling more settled, more capable, now he was here. Then a thought came to her, and she frowned.
“Are you allowed to be here?” she asked. “I mean, you can’t be seen to be supporting me. This might look bad.”
Charon raised a brow. “I hardly snuck in.” He glanced down pointedly at his chair. “Besides, I’ve already been to see Mael, so there can be no accusations of favouritism.”
“You went to him first?” Sorrow tried, and failed, to hide her hurt as petty envy needled her.
Charon’s expression was one Sorrow knew well from her childhood – one part infinite patience, one part exasperation – and his tone was long-suffering as he said, “If I’d come here first I’d have to leave you, to go to him…”
“Oh. Of course.” Reassured, Sorrow returned to her spot on the sofa, smiling as the butler discreetly slipped out of the room, giving them privacy. “So, I suppose we can’t talk about the election?” she said, and Charon nodded. “That narrows the field considerably,” Sorrow said as she tucked her legs beneath her.
“I’d very much like to hear exactly what happened in Prekara. Your note wasn’t terribly heavy on detail.”
“Stars, Charon, it was awful.” She relayed to him her version of events, starting with the appearance of the hooded men, the shouting, the fire, Meeren Vine’s pause before he came to her aid, ending with Commander Dain’s assignment at Vine’s insistence.
“Where is she now?” Charon asked. “Isn’t a bodyguard meant to do exactly that?”
“The library. Deryn – the Rhyllian who greeted us – was offended at the idea I’d brought a guard, but she was quick to accommodate her. She had the library set up as a makeshift bedroom. And Dain seems to love it. She’s quite the bookworm. And, as everyone keeps telling me, I’m perfectly safe here.”
Charon opened his mouth, as if to speak, and then closed it.
“What?” Sorrow asked.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.” She knew him well enough to know he was lying.
He pressed his lips together, seemingly thinking, and then said, “There was a break-in, at the house you’ve been using in the North Marches. The night you left for Rhylla.”
Sorrow’s heart stopped. “What do you mean? Wait, Irris was still there; is she OK?”