Authors: Robin D. Owens
The valet now sliced the round pastry with a pie server. As the
scent of crust brushed with powdered sugar and cinnamon rose, Alexa leaned
forward. He placed a nearly melted piece of cheese dotted with nuts and covered
in pastry on Alexa's plate, then did the same for Faucon. Broullard stepped
back.
Alexa couldn't wait. She nipped off the point with her fork and
popped it into her mouth. An incredible mixture of tastes flowed over her
tongue. Best of all was the cheese. She closed her eyes and savored.
When she opened her lids, Faucon was watching her and smiling. His
expression was the softest she'd ever seen on a Chevalier. Maybe her heart was
melting a little like the cheese. She hoped so. This was a man she could really
like and respect.
He took a bigger bite and forked it into his mouth, let the taste
linger on his tongue and then swallowed. He looked at Broullard and the maids.
"Very well done, Broullard, Shemma and Dodu. Very well indeed. Thank
you."
The way he said it made Alexa think there were bonuses in the wait
staff's futures. Oh yeah, this was a nice man.
Too nice. She suppressed a sigh. He might be feeling the hots for
her, but she found the dish more arousing than she found him. She'd work on it.
With a hand, Faucon dismissed the servants.
Alexa tried not to look like she was gorging. She took sips of her
tea between bites and didn't hurry.
"You like the sweetcheese?"
He'd pronounced it "antremay." She rolled the word
around in her head as she let the pastry slide down her throat. "Yes, I
like it very much."
His eyelids lowered. "I hope to always provide you with
savories you like."
She thought of them together on a bed and a trickle of desire
stirred inside her, she was sure. "Perhaps," she said.
After a couple of minutes of blissful eating, she went back to
pumping Faucon for information.
"Tell me..." She hesitated, picked up the teapot and
poured herself another cup.
His tongue flicked a bit of pastry into his mouth. "Anything,
my shere."
"Luthan Vauxveau..."
His brows lowered. "Surely you aren't interested in
him." He
looked at her, then relaxed back and took a bite of
the sweetcheese. "I can't see it." He said it with the confidence of
an observant man. "You spend time together, but not a great deal. You
treat each other with respect but no passion."
"There are some people... Luthan Vauxveau—" she drew in
a relaxing breath "—and the late Marshall Defau Disparu." The man she
had killed. "They react to me with an almost instinctive revulsion."
She'd been plodding through histories about past Exotiques word by word. That
phrase had appeared time and again, so she'd memorized it. "Most people
stare and point. Gawk. Why?" Maybe she could get answers from a person
instead of books.
Faucon put his fork down and looked at her steadily. "I think
it is a matter of Power. Some of us sense the utter
difference
of your
thoughts and your Power and the life you came from. Things we will never
understand, even if you sit and tell us about them all life long." He
frowned as if displeased with his choice of words. Then he made a wide gesture.
"Power is like a Song. It flows from us like melodies. Our melodies seem
like simple human folk tunes, and your Power, your melody, like the call of a
hawk to his mate before he kills."
Appalled, Alexa stared at him, grappling with his words. "I
don't feel
human
to you?"
He frowned. "Yes, of course human, but completely
different."
Alexa thought of songs and singing. Thought of bird cries. And
thought of whales and dolphins—they sang too, didn't they? It wasn't just
noise, or calls, but communication and joyful pleasure. Hadn't she heard that
somewhere? She knew she'd heard recordings of the sea mammals' songs. But they
were a different species. Was she
that
strange to the Lladranans?
Unknowable?
Never
knowable?
"Alyeka." He took her silverware from her fingers, set
it aside
and grasped her hands in his own. "Others'
reactions to you is not something you can control. Especially on a basic level.
And I've seen you with Luthan. He acts like a friend toward you. Whatever his
initial reaction, he has overcome it, or changed his mind—"
"Perhaps." She withdrew her hands. "But never
enough that we could be lovers."
Faucon's eyebrows raised. "Did you want that so much?"
"No. Ttho!" Alexa picked up her fork and ate some more
sweetcheese. It was delicious and that helped her get over the moment. She met
Faucon's scrutiny. "I don't want to be lovers with Luthan, but
it...hurts...to think that someone would literally cringe away from you in bed
just because of what you are. Something in them could never wholly accept
something in you."
"And some of us are extremely attracted to the unique and
wonderful, instinctively," Faucon said, with a smoldering look. "It
is a matter of Power flow. Some people will never be compatible. Some people
would never work with another once they have Paired."
Chemistry. Magnetism. Or just plain Lladranan magic. She decided
the Lladranans were just more aware of each other because of it. Another sense.
Sensor. Yes, an added sensor that Lladranans used to measure each other.
Luthan had been repulsed by her, but when he'd come to know the
real her, had overcome his feelings to treat her like a friend. The man across
from her was drawn to her just because she was an Exotique, not because he knew
who she really was.
The idea didn't appeal. But they could learn of each other in
time. Wasn't that what they were doing right now, learning about each other?
Just like any other couple on a date.
Alexa smiled. "A matter of Power flow, you said. Perhaps you
are right."
"I'm not sure I like your habit of saying 'perhaps' around
me."
"Tell me about Luthan Vauxveau's Power flow."
"Strong, powerful, focused. Like the man. He is a good man,
perhaps the most honorable that I know." He grimaced a little. "Like
his father, hard to live up to. Almost perfect, that one."
"There's another Vauxveau." She'd finally worked the subject
around to the one that had prodded at her for weeks. She didn't know what to
think of
that
Vauxveau,
that
lover. So many stories, such a brief
night.
"Bastien Vauxveau." Faucon laughed. "We trained
together for years. A good man in a crunch, but it has to be a crunch before he
shows his true colors, sings the true Song. I don't presume to know him. Who
knows what goes on in a black-and-white's head?" Faucon divvied up the
last piece of sweetcheese and topped up their teacups. He shook his head.
"Bastien, such a one! Often beyond brilliant and sometimes so stupid and
gauche."
Alexa could attest to that. She leaned forward and ran her fingers
down Faucon's long, elegant hand, hardly scarred. "Back home in Exotique
Terre, if women were talking, we would say such a man was sometimes as
brilliant as a diamond and sometimes as dumb as a sack of rocks." She gave
him a slow smile. "Of course, if women were talking, that wouldn't refer
to only one man, but
all
men."
Faucon's eyes went wide, then he threw back his head and roared
with laughter.
Suddenly she felt more on an even keel. He was suave. Noble. Rich.
Strong in every way. Excellent sense of humor which included being able to
laugh at himself. What more could a girl want? She was sure if she gave him a
chance he could make her toes tingle. Time to put heavy thoughts out of her
head and enjoy herself. She settled back into the booth.
A second later, she was pulled away from her seat by Luthan
Vauxveau, who carried a red bird with a long tail on his shoulder. Sinafin.
"Sorry to interrupt, Creusse, but Singer's business. You must
come with me now, Marshall Alyeka," Luthan said.
L
uthan lied. Alexa knew it in her bones. His damn Power flow told
her so. And he was awful at lying too, but his grip on her arm was solid.
"Are you crazy?" she said. She'd just spotted Broullard
and attendants coming through the kitchen door of the inn with a baked and
stuffed bird that smelled like the best Thanksgiving Day meal she'd ever had.
She dug in her heels.
"Singer's business," Luthan repeated, not meeting her
eyes, ignoring the inn full of people watching the little drama.
Sinafin transferred herself from Luthan to Alexa. The bird's claws
hurt. With her beak, Sinafin tugged at a lock of Alexa's hair.
Time to return to the Castle.
Alexa swept her hair away from the bird's hold.
Faucon stood, face expressionless in the usual Chevalier's way,
but Alexa thought everyone around him could gauge the anger in
his
Power flow. What a
useful concept. She hadn't transferred the knowledge from her lessons to real
life.
"Vauxveau," Faucon said, holding himself arrogantly. He
was not quite as tall or broad as Luthan, but Faucon's attitude made a statement.
Broullard hovered with the—whatever—too little to be a turkey, too
large for a Cornish hen; sure didn't smell like chicken. Alexa's stomach
grumbled. She noticed all the Chevaliers in the tavern were focused on the
group. Only one of them was looking at the people; the rest were drooling and
ready to pounce. On
her
dinner.
"You can't do this," she said in a near whimper.
"Singer's business!" Luthan announced.
Faucon gave way, Luthan dragged at Alexa. She glanced back. The
stuffed bird looked glorious; only the tiniest of crumbs marked where the
sweetcheese had been. The maid beside Broullard held another pot of tea.
"Noooooo."
Luthan didn't listen. One of his brawny arms encircled her waist
and lifted her off her feet. Where was her baton? How could she use it to get
out of this mess?
She couldn't.
Everyone
on Lladrana followed the oracle, the
Singer. She smacked the flat of her hand on Luthan's shoulder. He didn't wince.
Didn't let go. He was trying not to make a scene. Her stomach gurgled again.
"You jerk. You creep. You..." She continued to swear,
and he took it stolidly.
She figured her cursing lacked a lot since she was swearing under
her breath and in English. All the good Lladranan swear-words had gone clean
out of her head. She wriggled around and almost slipped free before Luthan did
something magic—and suddenly they were out the door into the cool night. Her
last sight had been of Faucon, staring at them thoughtfully.
As soon as her bottom touched the volaran's back she went still.
She didn't want to spook it; she knew it fought in tumultuous battles. She
didn't want to spook herself either.
It was a moment's ride to the Castle. Sinafin chattered in bird
talk that sounded cheerful.
Since she'd left her cloak at the Norn de Nom, Alexa hurried off
the Landing Field and into the Castle. There she swung to confront Luthan.
"What Singer's business?"
Leaning against one of the Castle walls, Luthan looked at her
blandly and stuck his hands in his pants pockets. "It doesn't look as if
you've had dinner yet. How about joining me in the Castle kitchen?"
Stew with stringy beeflike stuff, mushy dumplings. That's what
she'd get. She snarled, hauled out her baton.
Luthan's expression turned quizzical.
Alexa fumed. She studied the glowing green of her baton. Surely
there was some way to get from the Castle to the Nom de Nom instantly. Before
those wolves of Chevaliers devoured her dinner.
She stomped her feet. "Moron," she shouted.
He looked pained. Yeah, that was one of the words that was the
same in both languages.
"Moron," she said again, then, "Jerk!"
He didn't react, so that word hadn't achieved the effect she
wanted.
She slid her baton into its sheath at her hip, narrowed her eyes and
pointed a finger at him.
Nothing changed. She must not look terrifying enough.
A thought came to her and she smiled.
Luthan pushed away from the wall, wariness flickering across his
face.
She waggled her finger. "You can tell the Singer," Alexa
said sweetly, "that she owes me one lovely baked and stuffed bird of the
sort Faucon provided
and
three large pots of excellent tea, and whatever
else the man had in mind for my dinner."
His eyes widened. She could almost see him tallying up the cost.
He swallowed.
"A week from today. I want it served in my suite a week from
today. And as punishment for that very poor lie you told, I want the
sweetcheese too." She turned on her heel and marched away.
Sinafin squawked a laugh and flew next to Alexa.
Alexa thought again of the dinner she was missing. She sniffed,
trying to remember the fragrance of the new pot of tea. It had been different
from what they'd drunk with the sweetcheese, another variety. She still had the
yen for more tea. Her stomach felt hollow and she nearly groaned. It would have
to be the generic tea, after all.