Night's Honor
Page 22
Easing down to the floor, she sat with her knees up and her back to the wall, and put her head in her hands.
“I know I shouldn’t have lost my temper earlier,” Melisande said. “And in front of the whole Nightkind council too.”
“Well, Julian shouldn’t have lost his temper either,” Xavier replied. “The most important thing is that you both move on from it.”
“He’s always been inflexible, but I don’t remember him being so scathing.” The Light Fae woman sounded utterly miserable. “Or at least he wasn’t when we were together, until the very end. He always believed I cheated on him, but I didn’t.”
In the darkened bedroom, Tess started to chew on a fingernail. This wasn’t a romantic assignation at all, but listening to them felt just as uncomfortable. She really hated that a part of her had perked up and gotten curious.
“I’ve always been sorry that things ended between you the way they did,” Xavier said. “You were good for him.”
“Was I? Thank you for saying that, but he would probably disagree with you.”
“Julian and I don’t always agree with each other. You lightened him up, and he laughed. He doesn’t laugh anymore.”
There was another pause, and when Melisande spoke next, she sounded very sober. “He’s in real trouble, isn’t he?”
“Things have gotten tense over the last year, especially since he’s broken from Carling.”
Who’s Carling? Tess wondered. Was she another ex? Julian, you dog.
Melisande asked, “Can’t they repair their relationship, now that Carling has found some way to heal herself? She is better now, isn’t she? While she might be retired from the Elder tribunal, she’s still Julian’s sire.”
Tess finished biting off one fingernail and started on another. She didn’t know many details about Elder politics, but she did remember the high points that had hit the major news channels.
The previous summer had been full of upheaval for several of the Elder demesnes. The Lord of the Wyr had taken a mate, the Dark Fae King had been killed, and Julian had banished one of the original founders of the Nightkind demesne. From what Xavier and Melisande were discussing, it sounded like that might have been Carling.
“Whether or not Julian and Carling can mend fences remains to be seen,” Xavier replied.
Melisande laughed softly. “You’re always the soul of discretion. You have this knack for saying things without really saying anything. I can tell things are strained between Julian and the Nightkind council, and I know you weren’t happy with the thought of playing host to Justine tonight. I apologize for creating the situation.”
“Don’t worry about it, Melly. You weren’t the only one responsible for what happened, and even if you were, it was worth it to get the pleasure of your company for one night. Besides, I can handle Justine.”
He sounded so unruffled, so confident. Tess remembered what Marc had said.
Justine is dangerous, but Xavier is too.
Either the cool night air or her own thoughts caused her to shiver. She reached up to grope along the surface of the bed for her throw. When her fingers encountered the soft chenille material, she pulled it toward her.
The throw slid off the bed and brought one of the pillows along with it. The pillow hit the nightstand and knocked into her water glass and the alarm clock. Both items hit the hardwood floor with a loud clatter.
Tess froze and broke into a light sweat. She didn’t dare even breathe.
So, okay. That happened.
Maybe they wouldn’t notice. They were closer to the water, and things must sound quite different on the beach.
Melisande said, “What was that?”
“Nothing important, I’m sure,” Xavier said. He sounded almost bored. “Let’s head back to the house before Justine comes looking for us. We can open a bottle of Chateau Briot. Tell me, are you going to New York for the Sentinel Games?”
“Those Games are the Elder Races event of the century. I wouldn’t miss them for the world. Are you going?”
“I hadn’t committed yet, but I’ve just made up my mind to go.”
“We must get together while we’re there. I’m leaving in a week.”
Still talking, they moved away until Tess couldn’t hear them anymore.
She couldn’t bear to leave the window open any longer. Kneeling, she eased the window shut and groped for the alarm clock and the glass to set them on the nightstand again. A large puddle of water had sprayed over the floor.
Tess, she thought, you might be geek-smart, but you are not as bright as you claim to be. Try to get smarter before you die.
Tossing the pillow and the throw onto the bed, she eased over to the bedroom door. Earlier, she had noticed a linen closet down the hall that held plenty of extra sheets, towels and washcloths. Grabbing a towel, she headed back into her room and closed the door.
“You forgot to latch the window,” Xavier said.
From inside her room.
Shock bolted through every one of her nerve endings. Even as she managed to swallow her scream, she leaped backward like a scalded cat and her back hit the wall with a thump.
The bedside light clicked on, and light assaulted her eyes.
The window was wide open and the curtain pulled back. Xavier sat on her bed, his back propped against the headboard and legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He was dressed simply in the white shirt and black trousers that he had worn earlier, but even that plain outfit seemed impossibly formal and extremely masculine against the backdrop of the rumpled bedcovers.
He regarded her coolly, his lean face hard.
She felt raw and exposed, as if she had left her skin behind when she had leaped backward. He had made some excuse to Melisande, come back to the attendants’ house and climbed through the second-story window, all in the time it had taken her to go down the hall to the linen closet and back again.
This, she thought. This is why Vampyres scare the shit out of me.
Staring down at the towel she twisted between her hands, she said, “Oh, that window? I must have—I must have forgotten to latch it when I had it open this afternoon.”
“Were you not told of the protocol that should be followed whenever an enemy might be on the estate?” he asked. The small, thin scar beside his stern mouth looked whiter than it had when she had noticed it at the Ball.
“The protocol.” She cleared her throat, while in her mind’s eye she was starting to see the words in capital letters: THE PROTOCOL. “Yes. Yes, I was told.”
“I know I shouldn’t have lost my temper earlier,” Melisande said. “And in front of the whole Nightkind council too.”
“Well, Julian shouldn’t have lost his temper either,” Xavier replied. “The most important thing is that you both move on from it.”
“He’s always been inflexible, but I don’t remember him being so scathing.” The Light Fae woman sounded utterly miserable. “Or at least he wasn’t when we were together, until the very end. He always believed I cheated on him, but I didn’t.”
In the darkened bedroom, Tess started to chew on a fingernail. This wasn’t a romantic assignation at all, but listening to them felt just as uncomfortable. She really hated that a part of her had perked up and gotten curious.
“I’ve always been sorry that things ended between you the way they did,” Xavier said. “You were good for him.”
“Was I? Thank you for saying that, but he would probably disagree with you.”
“Julian and I don’t always agree with each other. You lightened him up, and he laughed. He doesn’t laugh anymore.”
There was another pause, and when Melisande spoke next, she sounded very sober. “He’s in real trouble, isn’t he?”
“Things have gotten tense over the last year, especially since he’s broken from Carling.”
Who’s Carling? Tess wondered. Was she another ex? Julian, you dog.
Melisande asked, “Can’t they repair their relationship, now that Carling has found some way to heal herself? She is better now, isn’t she? While she might be retired from the Elder tribunal, she’s still Julian’s sire.”
Tess finished biting off one fingernail and started on another. She didn’t know many details about Elder politics, but she did remember the high points that had hit the major news channels.
The previous summer had been full of upheaval for several of the Elder demesnes. The Lord of the Wyr had taken a mate, the Dark Fae King had been killed, and Julian had banished one of the original founders of the Nightkind demesne. From what Xavier and Melisande were discussing, it sounded like that might have been Carling.
“Whether or not Julian and Carling can mend fences remains to be seen,” Xavier replied.
Melisande laughed softly. “You’re always the soul of discretion. You have this knack for saying things without really saying anything. I can tell things are strained between Julian and the Nightkind council, and I know you weren’t happy with the thought of playing host to Justine tonight. I apologize for creating the situation.”
“Don’t worry about it, Melly. You weren’t the only one responsible for what happened, and even if you were, it was worth it to get the pleasure of your company for one night. Besides, I can handle Justine.”
He sounded so unruffled, so confident. Tess remembered what Marc had said.
Justine is dangerous, but Xavier is too.
Either the cool night air or her own thoughts caused her to shiver. She reached up to grope along the surface of the bed for her throw. When her fingers encountered the soft chenille material, she pulled it toward her.
The throw slid off the bed and brought one of the pillows along with it. The pillow hit the nightstand and knocked into her water glass and the alarm clock. Both items hit the hardwood floor with a loud clatter.
Tess froze and broke into a light sweat. She didn’t dare even breathe.
So, okay. That happened.
Maybe they wouldn’t notice. They were closer to the water, and things must sound quite different on the beach.
Melisande said, “What was that?”
“Nothing important, I’m sure,” Xavier said. He sounded almost bored. “Let’s head back to the house before Justine comes looking for us. We can open a bottle of Chateau Briot. Tell me, are you going to New York for the Sentinel Games?”
“Those Games are the Elder Races event of the century. I wouldn’t miss them for the world. Are you going?”
“I hadn’t committed yet, but I’ve just made up my mind to go.”
“We must get together while we’re there. I’m leaving in a week.”
Still talking, they moved away until Tess couldn’t hear them anymore.
She couldn’t bear to leave the window open any longer. Kneeling, she eased the window shut and groped for the alarm clock and the glass to set them on the nightstand again. A large puddle of water had sprayed over the floor.
Tess, she thought, you might be geek-smart, but you are not as bright as you claim to be. Try to get smarter before you die.
Tossing the pillow and the throw onto the bed, she eased over to the bedroom door. Earlier, she had noticed a linen closet down the hall that held plenty of extra sheets, towels and washcloths. Grabbing a towel, she headed back into her room and closed the door.
“You forgot to latch the window,” Xavier said.
From inside her room.
Shock bolted through every one of her nerve endings. Even as she managed to swallow her scream, she leaped backward like a scalded cat and her back hit the wall with a thump.
The bedside light clicked on, and light assaulted her eyes.
The window was wide open and the curtain pulled back. Xavier sat on her bed, his back propped against the headboard and legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He was dressed simply in the white shirt and black trousers that he had worn earlier, but even that plain outfit seemed impossibly formal and extremely masculine against the backdrop of the rumpled bedcovers.
He regarded her coolly, his lean face hard.
She felt raw and exposed, as if she had left her skin behind when she had leaped backward. He had made some excuse to Melisande, come back to the attendants’ house and climbed through the second-story window, all in the time it had taken her to go down the hall to the linen closet and back again.
This, she thought. This is why Vampyres scare the shit out of me.
Staring down at the towel she twisted between her hands, she said, “Oh, that window? I must have—I must have forgotten to latch it when I had it open this afternoon.”
“Were you not told of the protocol that should be followed whenever an enemy might be on the estate?” he asked. The small, thin scar beside his stern mouth looked whiter than it had when she had noticed it at the Ball.
“The protocol.” She cleared her throat, while in her mind’s eye she was starting to see the words in capital letters: THE PROTOCOL. “Yes. Yes, I was told.”
