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Brandon
The next two weeks passed in a similar fashion, though Brandon slept better after that first day, and consequently had a clearer head in the mornings. Linnet didn’t exactly warm up to them, but she did join them for dinner most nights and managed to be civil if not cordial during their conversations.
One afternoon at the end of that second week, Brandon was standing indecisively in the atrium, wondering if he could manufacture an excuse for talking to Villette if he went out into the garden, when Finley rammed through the front door. He was startled enough that he put a hand on his sword, but he could see her face was excited, not alarmed.
“Michalo’s just arrived at the gate,” she announced. “I didn’t even know he was coming today. Should we wake Linnet up?”
Brandon automatically started straightening his collar and his sleeves, checking his navy uniform for any signs of dust. “Iwouldn’t want to be yanked out of bed two minutes before the secretary of the sanctuary strolled in,” he said.
“Next time, then,” Finley decided, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with him so they looked like a respectable fighting force.
Just then Abe opened the door, and the temple delegation swept in. Finley and Brandon bowed in tandem as smoothly as if they’d been practicing for weeks.
“Villette?” Michalo demanded.
“In the garden, patri,” Finley answered. “Would you like me to escort you out?”
“I know the way,” Michalo said, brushing past them without another word.
His guards lingered in the atrium, so Brandon and Finley did as well, all of them trying to look stiff and formal and completely incurious about their counterparts. The cook carried a tray of refreshments out to the garden. Brandon tried to imagine how Villette had received Michalo this time—gaily, sullenly, mockingly, morosely. He had seen her show all those moods to the secretary of the sanctuary. Michalo himself was always the same—cool, determined, unyielding. A man who knew he had the power in the relationship and was willing to bide his time.
A man whothoughthe had power. Whothoughthe had time.
It was probably an hour before Michalo strolled back into the house, unruffled as always. He paused to inspect Finley and Brandon where they stood with their spines straight and their heads high.
“I know I’ve met both of you before,” he said. “But hasn’t a new guard arrived recently?”
As the senior member of their group, Finley answered. “Yes. But she’s been taking the night watch and sleeping during the day.”
“Ah. Perhaps next time I’m here I can be introduced.”
Finley didn’t make the obvious answer.If you’d told us you were coming, you could have met her today.Instead she asked, “Would you like us to wake her?”
“No, no. I’ll return soon enough. Besides the arrival of the new guard, is there anything of importance to report?”
“Nothing at all, patri. Everything continues to go smoothly.”
“Excellent. Just what I like to hear.” Michalo nodded and strode to the door, his soldiers falling in step behind him. Finley followed them out to lock the gate.
She was back inside a couple of minutes later, rolling her eyes. “Never saw a man with such abigred-hot poker up his ass,” she said.
“Is the high divine just as bad? I’ve never met him, only seen him from a distance.”
“No! He seems like a sweet old man—like he’d be everybody’s favorite uncle. Though I have to think he’s probably not really that nice.” She shook her head. “Nobody who’s got any power ever is.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Brandon said.
The visit had ruffled them both, so Finley didn’t retreat to her room for the rest of Brandon’s shift. Instead, she chatted with him while he was in the foyer and followed him when he made his rounds. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have minded—he rather liked Finley—but he wanted to talk to Villette. Michalo’s visits always unsettled her, and he wanted to make sure she was calm. And soothe her if she wasn’t.
He didn’t get a chance till well past dinner. Linnet had emerged from her room to join them for a couple of hours before her watch began at nine. Brandon excused himself while they were still eating, saying he would take one final walk around the grounds. He headed out to the gardens, because Villette had never come back inside after Michalo left. The whole enclosure was full of shadows, but he could make out her denser shape, once again sitting on a bench by the pond.
They didn’t have time to be cautious, so he just went straight over to her, hoping no one was watching from the house. But he came to a halt just behind her, the position of a servant who was responding to a summons from an employer.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.
She was wrapped in a light cloak, leaning forward as if fascinated by the ripples of water glinting faintly in the moonlight. He could see the slight motion as she shook her head. “No,” she whispered.
He had to fight the urge to step closer, to take her in a protective embrace. “Why? What did he say to you?”
