Cadmians Choice (79 page)

From the half-open
front door, the gray-clad retainer looked at him. “The carriage, it is ready,
Majer.”

“Thank you. I’ll be
there in a moment.” He handed the retainer the bag, then turned and walked back
along the main floor corridor away from the front sitting room. Rachyla had a
study off a short hallway to the right. She might be there. If not, he would
try the courtyard.

The door was ajar,
and he could see her sitting at the writing desk. She was not writing, but
looking down at the polished wood before her that held nothing, not a book, not
a sheet of paper. He knocked gently, then eased the door open and took but a
single step inside.

Rachyla looked up,
not at all startled. “Why are you here, Majer? I thought you were leaving this
morning.”

“I am. I wanted to
thank you again, personally, before we left for Hyalt. Might I come in?”

“I believe you
already have.”

“Thank you.” Mykel
tried to keep the irony out of his tone, but suspected he had failed.

“Why do you seek me
out? You know how I feel about you.”

“Because I owe you
for saving my life.”

“Majer, you certainly
would have recovered without me.”

“I might have
survived the explosion and the wounds. I have some doubt as to whether I might
have survived other aspects of recovering.”

“What could I have
done against an alector, Majer? A chatelaine? A mere woman?”

Mykel shrugged,
ignoring the twinge down his left arm. “At times, I trust my feelings far more
than reason. This was one of those times. Thank you.”

“I will accept your
thanks, Majer, nothing more. I believe the carriage is waiting.” Rachyla stood
and looked pointedly past Mykel in the direction of the front entry.

Mykel managed to keep
from frowning or tightening his lips. He had no other options, no other
choices, but to go through with it. He took one step forward. “I would prefer
it were not this way—”

“Majer... I asked you
before, and you did not answer. Why do you persist in finding ways to see me?
Do you not understand that I cannot consider you a friend? That such is not
possible?” Rachyla squared her shoulders, facing him head-on.

For all of her
directness, Mykel felt that she was not exactly meeting his eyes—or addressing
what he had to say.

“Then... would you
consider me an enemy?” he asked.

“Perhaps as a gallant
and honorable one.” Her tone verged on bantering. “On a day when I am feeling
charitable.”

Mykel withdrew the
dagger of the ancients from his belt. “Then I can return this to you, on behalf
of your family.”

Rachyla stiffened,
but did not step back. “You would not.”

“I would. You will
not see what is. Neither did I. Daughter of a seltyr, would you refuse such a
gift?”

She straightened,
extending her left hand. “I will not. You have been my enemy since you
destroyed Stylan Estate as it was.”

Mykel eased the
dagger and the sheath he had fashioned into her hand, careful not to directly
touch her fingers. Then he stepped back. “You have accepted this dagger of your
own free will, Rachyla of Stylan and of Tempre. It is yours.” He inclined his
head for a moment. “To good-hearted and noble enemies, Lady Rachyla.”

Then he turned, walking
quickly, but not too quickly, to the entry foyer. He did not look back, but
kept his eyes on the half-open door that would all too soon close behind him.

If Rachyla had made
her choice, then he had made his, the only one he as a Cadmian could—a Cadmian’s
choice.