Then there was the crooked apron. The ruffles framed her breasts enticingly. Underneath she appeared to be wearing a green nightgown, thin and sleeveless. He forced his gaze upward to find her cheeks bright pink.
“Your pinafore is crooked.”
She checked her front, fingers nimble. “My robe is in the laundry. It had dye on it.”
“Did I interrupt your sleep?”
“Not quite.” Her lips relaxed into their standard curve as she finished retying her apron.
“Good. I thought it best if we concluded our discussion before tomorrow.” He’d made the right choice in showing up unannounced. If he’d contacted her, she’d definitely have put him off.
“Miaow.” The cat from earlier lounged on the foot of Anisette’s pink bed. Embor glanced across the room to see the black and white feline kneading a familiar brown coverlet while staring at him.
“Where did you get that blanket?”
Anisette patted the ruffled edge of her pinafore. “It was given to me.”
“It’s mine.”
“Yours?” The horror in her voice was so evident he almost winced. Was she that averse to anything to do with him? “Damn Janelle.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Pardon me.”
“Miaow,” the cat said again.
Anisette shook her head. “I can’t tell him that.” She went silent for a moment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why don’t you tell me yourself?” Embor suggested to the cat.
Anisette twisted her hands together. “He’ll only talk to me.”
Embor had communicated with felines before. He knew it was possible for cats to speak to him. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Master Fey, why won’t you talk to the Primary?” She grimaced and turned to Embor. “He won’t answer that, but he insists it’s his blanket and you may not have it.”
“I disagree.” It was Embor’s favorite blanket. He’d had it coated with a costly, flame retardant spell. Sometimes his nightmares had fiery aftershocks. “It’s my blanket.”
Anisette hastened to her bed and stroked the insolent feline from head to tail. “He says he marked it once, and he’ll mark it again if need be.”
That solved one mystery. It both reassured and discomfited Embor that the cat had been the one to dance through his wards. He’d prefer his chambers be barred to everyone he didn’t sanction, including cats. However, cats were hardly assassins, and they had no care for Realm politics.
He raised an eyebrow and spoke to the tom. “That wasn’t very civilized of you.”
The cat didn’t answer. He began to purr under Anisette’s ministrations, punching the soft fabric of Embor’s blanket with his front paws.
Embor had little experience with cats. He’d had more experience with children than cats. It annoyed him that the creatures—cats, not children—couldn’t be relied on for anything beyond cryptic foreshadowing and mysterious disappearances. Why didn’t they partner with fairies? Cats, whose precognitive abilities seemed more controlled than the Seers, could help the fairies stave off disaster. Fairies could provide the cats with as many brown blankets as they desired.
He wouldn’t be surprised if cats knew what had caused the Incident and how to prevent another one. Pursuit of that goal had dominated the Court’s activities for forty years, but no cats had deigned to speak of it.
Undaunted, Embor tried again. “How did you get into my chambers?”
The cat’s claws loosened tufts from the blanket. He didn’t shift his piercing gaze from Embor.
“The same way he got into mine, I suppose.” Anisette tickled the feline under the chin, where his fur was white. “Would you care to enlighten us, Master Fey?”
The cat rolled to his back, exposing his belly, but kept one yellow eye pinned on Embor. He folded his paws to his chest.
“Why did you urinate on my bedding?” Embor asked.
The feline’s tail swished back and forth.
“That’s what that smell was.” Anisette gave a surprised chuff and sat. The white fur on the cat’s stomach created a fiddle shape, much like the cephalothorax of a certain poisonous spider. “Naughty puss.”
Embor flexed his fingers. If he forcibly retrieved his blanket, would it be worth the repercussions? The cat could come and go as he pleased. “Why have you taken up with Princess Anisette?”
The rumble of the cat’s purr increased.
“He likes me.” The cat struck playfully at Anisette’s hand. “I like him too.”
“What caused the Incident?” Embor asked.
She froze, her fingers buried in the cat’s fur. “Which one of us are you asking?”
He advanced on the bed. “The cat.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t know a thing like that.”
“If you won’t talk to me, cat, I need to speak with the princess.” Embor halted out of paw’s reach of the canopied bed, its mattress draped in a shimmery coverlet. “I have an idea for your vacation, Anisette.”
“Have you really?” She concentrated on the cat, her hair spilling in front of her face. “I’m sorry you wasted your time. I’m not taking a vacation.”
He pretended she hadn’t said that. “I’ll transport you to Fiertaggen tomorrow after breakfast.”
She slid off the bed. “Your home district?”
“Yes, it’s…” The safest place for her outside his presence. The Torvals would never venture to the Fiertag clanhome. “It’s cooler than Xerode this time of year.”
“The sun is cooler than Xerode this time of year. If I go anywhere, I’ll go to my clanhome.”
Serendipity and Tortagal bordered one another and had no quarrels. Anisette’s clan had no reason to refuse admittance to Warran Torval.
“Unacceptable. Home is never as relaxing as one might wish.” She started to speak, and he raised his hand. “Fiertaggen would be a greater change of scenery. The southern part of the territory borders the Great Salt Bay.” While his home region wasn’t ideal in the hot months, the subtropical flora and fauna were very different from the low mountains and plateaus of Serendipity and the flat, grassy heat of Cappita.
“You want me to vacation in your home district,” she repeated, as if she didn’t understand his simple statement.
“There are a multitude of guest cottages and resorts. The area is popular with travelers. The Court will pay all expenses since Gangee mandated the vacation.” She’d be staying in the Fiertag’s heavily fortified clanhome, where his second cousins, the clan primes, could protect her, but there was no need to tell her that yet.
“I’m not going on vacation. I already spoke to Gangee and got my prescription.” She pointed at her rosewood dressing table, where a bottle of spell globes sat conspicuously in the center. Beside it was a skein of yarn.
“If you do both, you’ll be twice as unlikely to suffer another attack.”
“I am not,” she said, snapping her consonants, “going to suffer another attack. I have an idea what the trigger is and a plan to defuse it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “In a few days. Maybe a couple weeks.”
Had she connected the Torvals’ abuse of her to her panic attack? “What’s the trigger?”
Her lips whitened as she pinched them together. “I’d rather not discuss it.”
“I need you to tell me.” If she was close to right, he’d confirm it. He was tempted to tell her regardless.
She opened her eyes, her expression glassy. “No.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Did you tell Gangee?”
“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s private.”
She had no idea the danger she was in. If the Torvals had mindwiped her once, they wouldn’t hesitate to do it again—or worse. She must confide in him, give him the proof he needed to banish them forever. “What if I told you I know what happened to you?”
“How could you know why I panicked?” She rubbed her arms briskly. “Unless you caused it.”
“Me?” He squeezed his forehead in frustration. “I wouldn’t harm you, Anisette.”
“Not on purpose.” She tucked her hands under her arms as if she were cold, but her room was pleasant.
“Not ever.” Embor put his fists on his hips to keep from taking her shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to warm her or shake her. “I insist you tell me what upset you last night.”
“If it was you and not…” She blinked several times and shivered. “My new climate-control spell is overactive. It’s freezing in here.”
He flicked his hand, increasing the ambient temperature. “Please continue.”
“What was I saying?”
“You were telling me why your stress is my fault,” he said in a dry voice, “and withholding the real cause.”
“It’s only a theory.” She hastened to the dressing table, unscrewed her bottle and shook a pill into her hand. “I…I forgot, I’m supposed to have one every day.”
Embor had been at the appointment. Gangee had instructed her to dose herself as needed, not daily. He watched her activate the tiny globe with some degree of guilt. This was part of the reason Gangee had said not to tell her. Trying to remember what had frightened her—and arguing with him—had increased her anxiety to the point where she wanted to medicate.
He considered his role in her situation. Had finding Embor and Anisette together inspired Warran’s evil deed? Had Warran wanted to turn the princess against him? With the election so close, the Torvals had ramped up their smear campaign, their desperate measures. Trying anything and everything.
As Embor knew too well, insanity, sadism and lechery ran in the Torval clan.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have tweaked Warran’s nose with that bow to Anisette. Even if he couldn’t prove the Torvals’ misdeed, he wouldn’t allow her to become a pawn in election politics. He needed to win in order to continue the programs he and Skythia had begun, the work they’d done, the strides they’d made. The Torvals would undermine the Realm’s stability—and make his hunt for the other Torvals nearly impossible. They’d foster the AOC, and that agency was already bloated far beyond its original function.
All the more reason to send Anisette away.
She wore a contemplative expression as the healing globe took effect.
“Is your spell complete?” he asked. He had little sensitivity to healing magics. He only knew his energy globes had kicked in when he began to feel brisk. It was easier to tell when they were wearing off.
Anisette, her face smooth, returned to stand between him and the cat. “I believe so.”
“Now can you tell me your suspicions?”
She took a deep breath and released it, blowing several hairs out of her face. “All right. Here’s what I think. I had no physical manifestations of stress until I’d seen you in the gardens. Nothing else I did yesterday was out of the ordinary.”
“How could I have pushed you over the edge?” He tamped down his skepticism. Mostly. “Our encounter wasn’t hostile. I found it instructive. Did I mention I’m interested in children?”
“You must know you aren’t…” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m not what? Interested in children? I promise you I am.” He wondered how many children the two of them would have. Probably two. Twins often bred true.
“I shouldn’t.” She stared at the floor, her hair concealing her face, and pleated her apron.
While the sight of her loose hair awakened images best kept to himself, he began to see the appeal of the braid. He considered tipping up her chin so he could read her expression, but the gesture seemed too paternal.
He shoved his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. “Look at me.”
She shifted the angle of her head but didn’t meet his gaze.
Personal contact, as he understood it, could heighten communication and understanding. Skythia often grabbed him when she wanted to make a point.
Embor cupped her upper arm. Her skin felt like satin. Now she looked at him. “Feel free to speak your mind, Anisette.”
She licked her lips. “You only have yourself to blame if you don’t like what I say. I’m forever telling Tali this when she asks me to be honest.”
“I accept that.”
“She still gets angry with me.”
He shifted his thumb, stroking her creamy skin. Talista got angry with him for being honest as well. “I’m not your sibling.”
“No.” She raised a hand as if to take his arm, completing the circuit, but adjusted her pinafore instead. “The thing is, you’re not an easy man.”
Numerous questions flitted through his head. Did that make him difficult? Hard? Complex? Before he could settle on a response, Ani filled the silence. “That sounds harsh. What I mean is, you’re not an easy person to be around.”
That sounded worse. He appreciated her candor even as he wished he were…easier. For her. He didn’t care about easing anyone else. “I believe I mentioned yesterday that I am the Primary. My job is demanding.”
“You did, but…” She sighed. “How can I say this?”
“With words.” He rubbed her arm, intending to reassure. “I won’t be angry.”
How could he be? He knew what his position entailed. Friendships, entertainments, relaxations—for the most part, he and Skythia had sacrificed those to perform their duties. He didn’t regret it. He and Skythia were the right choice for the Realm at this juncture.
“It isn’t that you’re the Primary.” Her eyelashes fluttered as she glanced from her arm to his face. Actually, to his chin. “Elder Skythia is friendly. Relatable.”