Late Eclipses
Page 78
Luck was on our side; the door was still there. “Come on,” I whispered. Connor nodded, and followed me inside.
Nothing at Shadowed Hills is small. The main kitchen is a vast room filled with ovens, stoves, counters, and the sweet smell of baking bread. The ceiling is low so that pots, pans, and dried herbs can be hung from the rafters; that keeps the sheer size of the place from being daunting, but only barely. I held the door long enough to peek out and be sure no one was following before easing it shut and turning to face the room.
Despite the sheer size of the kitchen, there was only one person in sight: a small, wizened man with a long white beard, contentedly washing dishes in the largest of the three sinks. Six Hobs—even halfbloods—can do the work of three dozen humans, and they get cranky when you shove too many of them into one place. I gestured for Connor to follow as I began creeping toward the door on the far wall.
We were halfway across the room when the man said, “Afternoon, Miss Toby, Master Connor. Wouldn’t go out there, were I you. There’s a ruckus on.”
I winced as I turned to face him. Connor moved to stand next to me, taking my hand again. It was a show of support, and I appreciated it more than words could possibly have said. “Yeah, we know about the ruckus, um . . . ”
“Ormond, dear. You knew me when you were younger, but it’s been a bit, hasn’t it? Haven’t seen you in the kitchens since, oh, year before young Meriel got herself sacked for malingering. That’s a good three decades, I’d say.”
“It’s probably been longer.” I raked my hair back with my free hand. “I know it’s rude of me to ask, but could you—”
“We’ll keep quiet; we know the Duke doesn’t want you found. He’ll be glad you’ve gone to ground here, it’s what he hoped for.” He winked at Connor, grinning broadly. “I see you’re the cause of the young Master’s absence. Good for both of you.”
“Er.” I exchanged a glance with Connor. He was blushing madly. Judging by the heat in my cheeks, I wasn’t much better.
Ormond kept talking, ignoring our dismay. Hobs are like that. They’d play matchmaker in the middle of a nuclear strike if the opportunity presented itself. “Why don’t the two of you stop in the pantry? There’s apples and such.” He indicated a door near the spice racks. “You’ll both feel better for having eaten, and I’ll call Melly. She’ll gladly put you up in the servants’ quarters while I fetch His Grace.”
This was all getting a little out of control. “Look, we really don’t want to get you in any trouble. We can find him on our own.”
“There’s no trouble here.” Ormond’s expression turned grim. “We saw you all over these kitchens when you were just a pup, and maybe it’s been a bit since you came belowstairs, but we remember you. Amandine’s girl, and the Duke’s girl, and there’s never been a rotten bone in your body. Whatever that washed-out ‘Queen’ says, you didn’t hurt anyone. Especially not our Duchess.” He glowered, daring us to argue.
I gaped at him. Connor took a half step forward, clearing his throat. “That’s very kind. Can you tell Melly we’d be honored if she found a place for us to rest while we figure out what to do next?”
“It’s my pleasure.” Ormond hopped down from the stool he’d been using to reach the sink. Like most Hobs, he was small, barely reaching my waist. “Get yourselves some food before everyone thinks I’m abusing you, and I’ll let Melly know she’s to make a room for two fugitives. She’ll be delighted. She hasn’t had nearly enough in the way of blood and grass stains to wash out of the linens since the Duke gave up questing.”
“Right,” I said faintly, as I watched him turn and walk away. Once he was out of earshot, I said, “Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“Did we just let Ormond walk away thinking we ran off to have an affair?”
“That depends.”
“On what?” I asked, turning to face him.
Instead of answering aloud, Connor quirked a smile, put his hands on either side of my face, and kissed me.
I was basically a kid the first time I kissed Connor. He was attached to Shadowed Hills as the diplomatic representative from Roan Rathad, and he was as baffled by the land fae as I was by purebloods in general. Kissing me was something he understood, and my changeling heritage didn’t bother him—Selkies are born mortal, after all, and they only become fae if they’re lucky enough to receive a skin. After Devin—after the men Devin hired me out to—Connor’s salt-sweet kisses and careful hands were a revelation.
It didn’t last. We’d barely progressed past stolen kisses and casual groping when the folks back home put their collective foot down. Selkies only get involved with other Selkies, or with pure humans. No changelings. No mixed-breeds. Not ever. I got involved with a human man. By the time that ended, Connor was caught in a marriage of political convenience that conveniently ignored the “rules” his family used to kill our brief-lived relationship. Not the sort of thing that inspires renewal of past passions.
His lips still tasted like sweetened saltwater. I kissed him back without realizing I was going to do it, and once that was done, there was nothing to do but step closer, still kissing him. The webbing between his fingers was cool in comparison to his hands; the rest of his body was hot, pressing against me like he thought our clothes might conveniently disappear.
No such luck. Connor reluctantly broke the kiss, stepping just far enough back to see my face as he said, “Maybe we did.” He left his hands against my face.
“They’ll be thrilled,” I said, trying to sound dry and mostly succeeding in sounding dazed. The Shadowed Hills house-Hobs would be thrilled if Connor and I ran away together. I was a much saner match for him than Rayseline, and they all knew how much I meant to Sylvester. Most of the staff had been with the Torquill family for generations.
I froze. Connor must have taken my expression for rejection, because he dropped his hands, a hurt look flashing over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just thought—”
“Ormond mentioned Meriel’s dismissal like it was a big deal.” I grabbed Connor’s hands before he could step back. “Was it?”
“What? I don’t know. I wasn’t here then.” Connor’s expression turned confused. “Who’s Meriel?”
Nothing at Shadowed Hills is small. The main kitchen is a vast room filled with ovens, stoves, counters, and the sweet smell of baking bread. The ceiling is low so that pots, pans, and dried herbs can be hung from the rafters; that keeps the sheer size of the place from being daunting, but only barely. I held the door long enough to peek out and be sure no one was following before easing it shut and turning to face the room.
Despite the sheer size of the kitchen, there was only one person in sight: a small, wizened man with a long white beard, contentedly washing dishes in the largest of the three sinks. Six Hobs—even halfbloods—can do the work of three dozen humans, and they get cranky when you shove too many of them into one place. I gestured for Connor to follow as I began creeping toward the door on the far wall.
We were halfway across the room when the man said, “Afternoon, Miss Toby, Master Connor. Wouldn’t go out there, were I you. There’s a ruckus on.”
I winced as I turned to face him. Connor moved to stand next to me, taking my hand again. It was a show of support, and I appreciated it more than words could possibly have said. “Yeah, we know about the ruckus, um . . . ”
“Ormond, dear. You knew me when you were younger, but it’s been a bit, hasn’t it? Haven’t seen you in the kitchens since, oh, year before young Meriel got herself sacked for malingering. That’s a good three decades, I’d say.”
“It’s probably been longer.” I raked my hair back with my free hand. “I know it’s rude of me to ask, but could you—”
“We’ll keep quiet; we know the Duke doesn’t want you found. He’ll be glad you’ve gone to ground here, it’s what he hoped for.” He winked at Connor, grinning broadly. “I see you’re the cause of the young Master’s absence. Good for both of you.”
“Er.” I exchanged a glance with Connor. He was blushing madly. Judging by the heat in my cheeks, I wasn’t much better.
Ormond kept talking, ignoring our dismay. Hobs are like that. They’d play matchmaker in the middle of a nuclear strike if the opportunity presented itself. “Why don’t the two of you stop in the pantry? There’s apples and such.” He indicated a door near the spice racks. “You’ll both feel better for having eaten, and I’ll call Melly. She’ll gladly put you up in the servants’ quarters while I fetch His Grace.”
This was all getting a little out of control. “Look, we really don’t want to get you in any trouble. We can find him on our own.”
“There’s no trouble here.” Ormond’s expression turned grim. “We saw you all over these kitchens when you were just a pup, and maybe it’s been a bit since you came belowstairs, but we remember you. Amandine’s girl, and the Duke’s girl, and there’s never been a rotten bone in your body. Whatever that washed-out ‘Queen’ says, you didn’t hurt anyone. Especially not our Duchess.” He glowered, daring us to argue.
I gaped at him. Connor took a half step forward, clearing his throat. “That’s very kind. Can you tell Melly we’d be honored if she found a place for us to rest while we figure out what to do next?”
“It’s my pleasure.” Ormond hopped down from the stool he’d been using to reach the sink. Like most Hobs, he was small, barely reaching my waist. “Get yourselves some food before everyone thinks I’m abusing you, and I’ll let Melly know she’s to make a room for two fugitives. She’ll be delighted. She hasn’t had nearly enough in the way of blood and grass stains to wash out of the linens since the Duke gave up questing.”
“Right,” I said faintly, as I watched him turn and walk away. Once he was out of earshot, I said, “Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“Did we just let Ormond walk away thinking we ran off to have an affair?”
“That depends.”
“On what?” I asked, turning to face him.
Instead of answering aloud, Connor quirked a smile, put his hands on either side of my face, and kissed me.
I was basically a kid the first time I kissed Connor. He was attached to Shadowed Hills as the diplomatic representative from Roan Rathad, and he was as baffled by the land fae as I was by purebloods in general. Kissing me was something he understood, and my changeling heritage didn’t bother him—Selkies are born mortal, after all, and they only become fae if they’re lucky enough to receive a skin. After Devin—after the men Devin hired me out to—Connor’s salt-sweet kisses and careful hands were a revelation.
It didn’t last. We’d barely progressed past stolen kisses and casual groping when the folks back home put their collective foot down. Selkies only get involved with other Selkies, or with pure humans. No changelings. No mixed-breeds. Not ever. I got involved with a human man. By the time that ended, Connor was caught in a marriage of political convenience that conveniently ignored the “rules” his family used to kill our brief-lived relationship. Not the sort of thing that inspires renewal of past passions.
His lips still tasted like sweetened saltwater. I kissed him back without realizing I was going to do it, and once that was done, there was nothing to do but step closer, still kissing him. The webbing between his fingers was cool in comparison to his hands; the rest of his body was hot, pressing against me like he thought our clothes might conveniently disappear.
No such luck. Connor reluctantly broke the kiss, stepping just far enough back to see my face as he said, “Maybe we did.” He left his hands against my face.
“They’ll be thrilled,” I said, trying to sound dry and mostly succeeding in sounding dazed. The Shadowed Hills house-Hobs would be thrilled if Connor and I ran away together. I was a much saner match for him than Rayseline, and they all knew how much I meant to Sylvester. Most of the staff had been with the Torquill family for generations.
I froze. Connor must have taken my expression for rejection, because he dropped his hands, a hurt look flashing over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just thought—”
“Ormond mentioned Meriel’s dismissal like it was a big deal.” I grabbed Connor’s hands before he could step back. “Was it?”
“What? I don’t know. I wasn’t here then.” Connor’s expression turned confused. “Who’s Meriel?”
