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Now Finley was openly laughing. “Oh no, I like getting under her skin. I’m going to hang out in the atrium, play some card games, ask her if she’d like to join me for a round. You should stay too. It’ll be fun.”
“Not my idea of fun,” he said, coming to his feet. “All right. I’m done for the night. See you in the morning.”
Finley stood up and gestured toward the foyer. “Come on. Just a few hands. Just to annoy Linnet.”
He only agreed because he was so jumpy that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand himself if he was just cooped up in his room, endlessly reviewing his escape plans. Since it was still her shift, Finley made one more round of the house and grounds while Brandon sat at the wrought iron table, shuffling and reshuffling the deck. It was easy to imagine Linnet standing right behind her closed door, hearing the faint whiffle of the cards and fuming with impatience.
I don’t know how I’ll stand her once Finley’s gone and it’s just me and some other new guard,he thought. And then he realized that he would be gone even sooner than Finley, and he would never meet another new guard at this house.
Or anywhere in Corcannon. He would be abandoning his post, his career, the beginnings of the life he had started to build from will and tenacity. Throwing everything away for the sake of a woman he barely knew and didn’t entirely trust and loved so helplessly that it sometimes frightened him. Maybe he was crazy.
He shuffled the cards again. And maybe they would be caught and Villette would be sacrificed and he would be hanged. All this plotting would lead to nothing but heartbreak and disaster.
He almost shrugged. Nothing could turn him from this course. Better to die than to live with the knowledge that he could not save Villette. That he hadn’t even tried. And maybe Zessayahadn’tturned her back on him. He dropped the cards to the table and put one hand around the chazissa that lay under his shirt. She loved to defy Cordelan and his acolytes, after all. Maybe she would shepherd the two of them through the dark streets, make smooth the road they traveled as they fled from the priests and their blood rites. Maybe Zessaya would watch over their mad venture.
“Don’t look so intense, you’ll make me think you’re cheating,” Finley said as she dropped into the seat across from him.
He had to shake off his fierce mood and force himself to smile at her. “An island man doesn’t cheat,” he said. “He just plays better than a city girl.”
Finley hooted at the challenge and grabbed the cards. “Give me those. I’m dealing. And we’re playing for money.”
Chapter Thirty:
Brandon
In the end, Brandon sat with Finley until nearly eleven as they played cards and gambled for low stakes and argued half-heartedly. Linnet emerged from her room exactly at nine and didn’t even glance their way as she made her first pass through the house. Finley and Brandon watched her make the entire circuit around the second-floor balcony, the entire circuit of the third floor, before she descended and headed out the front door to check the grounds.
“I think she tried every doorknob to make sure it was locked,” Finley whispered. “Don’t you supposed Villette wondered if someone was trying to break into her room?”
“She better not try our doorknobs tonight while we’re sleeping,” Brandon answered. “I sleep with a knife under my hand. If I hear someone rattling around outside, I’m liable to come out blade first.”
“Me, too! Especially now that I know she’s prowling the house.”
“Well, I prowl around at night, too. But I don’t try the doors.”
“I wonder if she checks the gate to make sure it’s locked.”
“I do that,” he said.
“So do I.”
They played a few more hands, got bored, tried a different game, got bored again. “I’m going to bed,” Brandon said, yawning as he stood up. “But feel free to stay out here all night just to make her crazy.”
She grinned up at him. “I just might do that. Not much other entertainment around here.”
He retired to his room and made himself lie down, but he was wide awake. Squabbling with Finley had taken off some of his restless edge, but his mind was still fretting over details. Maybe he was wrong to plan to take the land route. Maybe it would be smarter to cross the eastern bridge that led to the small city harbor and board the nearest ship. Maybe there would be an islander vessel flying the fish-covered flag of Zessaya—the captain of such a ship might be willing to help out a fellow countryman and not ask any questions. Islanders were more likely to be loyal to each other than to the city or the priests who ran it. Sometimes they’d spite a Cordelano, even if cost them, just because it was such a satisfying thing to do. If Brandon could find a captain like that—
Maybe the harbor was a better bet after all. He’d have to ask Villette in the morning. Right after he asked her what terrible news the high divine had brought when he came to visit.
The decision made Brandon feel more peaceful than he had in days, and he turned on his side. It had to be well past midnight by now; he had better get some sleep. He would have to be certain he was rested before they fled the house. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly to make sure they stayed shut. He promised himself he wouldn’t stir from his bed until morning.
There was a sound in the corridor.
Brandon’s lids flew open and he tensed on his bed, the knife already in his hand. He lay motionless for a few seconds, straining to hear, but the noise didn’t come again. It had been a slight rasping sound, like metal dragging along stone. He couldn’t think what natural nighttime activity might have caused it.
Impossible to just roll over and go back to sleep. He climbed soundlessly out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants, not bothering with a shirt. The tile floor was cool beneath his bare feet as he stole across the room and stood motionless at his door, still listening intently.
He couldn’t hear anything amiss. There was probably nothing wrong. But there was no reason not to creep out and check. Opening the door slowly, so it didn’t creak or click, he glided out into the corridor.
