Secret Heart (10 page)

“
I have
never considered the question of how a knight thinks, if he thinks
at all,” Jenia said, “though now that you speak of it, the idea of
thinking before using one’s sword does make good sense.” Nor was
she surprised that Lord Giles would make such a demand of his
students. Her grandfather had told her more than once that the best
teachers were mages.

“
Can you
read?” Roarke asked. “Can you write? I know the two don’t always go
together.”

“
Yes, of
course. I can do both. I can count, too.” She spoke with pride,
before she realized how much the admissions must reveal about
her.

“
Are you
sure?” he persisted, a faint, pleased smile curving his lips. “So,
you do remember that much. Where did you learn? From your mother?
Or your father’s cleric? Or were you taught by a mage?”

She met
his dark gaze squarely and saw triumph blazing in his eyes. He had
tricked her into saying more than she should have and now he was
continuing his questions, firing them at her as rapidly as a
Kantian bowman with a quiver full of arrows. A tart reply rose to
her tongue, an instinctive response to his prying that probably
would have told him still more about her and the past she claimed
not to recall. She was saved from indiscretion by Lord Giles.
Having finished the last of his serving of custard tart, he rose
from the table, thus ending the meal. When their lord stood, so did
everyone else who’d been sitting with him.

“
Agnes, I
am pleased with the splendid meal you created on such short
notice,” Lord Giles said to a plump, pink-faced woman. “As a cook,
you are a treasure beyond price.”

Agnes’
face grew even more pink at the praise and she dipped an awkward
curtsey toward her master.

Turning
to the rest of the company Lord Giles continued, “Now, to your
duties, or to your beds, my lads. Just because I have guests
tonight, don’t imagine I won’t work you hard tomorrow. Squires, I
will expect to see you in the practice yard at dawn.”

A ripple of affectionate laughter and a few
youthful grumbles followed Lord Giles as he conducted Jenia up a
short flight of steps to the solar, with Roarke and Garit following
them.

“
Here we
can be private and speak freely,” Lord Giles said. A warming fire
burned in the upper room and he took a carved armchair that was
placed close to it. At his inviting gesture, Jenia sat in an
armless chair at the other side of the fireplace. Roarke stood
behind Lord Giles, while Garit roamed about the room with the ease
of old familiarity.

The only piece of furniture in the solar
besides the chairs was a table set beneath two wide windows. Jenia
noted the lack of feminine additions, such as a loom or an
embroidery frame. Having heard Lord Giles mention his two grown
sons to Garit, she assumed that he was a widower.

“
Now,
Lady Jenia,” Lord Giles said to her, “you may tell me your story,
and then Roarke and Garit may explain why they have brought you to
me.”

Jenia repeated the same story she had
previously told her two companions, of being abducted aboard an
unknown ship and of plunging into the sea rather than allowing a
band of wicked men to dishonor her. As she had done before, she
insisted that she did not remember who she was.

The look
on Lord Giles’ face when she finished plainly said that he doubted
her claim of no memory. To avoid having to lie in response to any
questions he might ask, she changed the subject. She had told
enough lies for three lifetimes and she could not bear the thought
of telling more falsehoods or offering evasions to a kindly old man
who held the Power to force the truth from her, though he’d never
use it without her consent. She knew without asking that the Power
Lord Giles possessed was pure and uncorrupted. Unlike the Power of
some men she had known.

“
Roarke
and Garit can explain better than I the plan they’ve concocted in
hope of learning where Lady Chantal is,” she said. “I agreed to
travel to Calean City in their company for my own reason, which is
that I hope someone at court will know who I am.”

“
I
suppose it is a possibility,” Lord Giles said, “though the idea
seems to me unnecessarily dangerous. From what you’ve told me,
someone wants you dead and has gone to great lengths to conceal
your apparent murder.”

“
But we
must learn where Chantal is,” Garit insisted with all of the
emotion he brought to any discussion of his lost love. “I cannot go
on like this, not knowing whether she’s dead or alive, and
uncertain whether or not this lady is Chantal,” he said, waving one
hand toward Jenia. “Nor can I lay aside my suspicions of Lord
Walderon. I am convinced he knows more about Chantal’s
disappearance than he will admit.”

“
Is
Walderon presently at court?” Lord Giles asked. “More important, is
Lady Sanal with him? Her reaction to the sudden reappearance of
Lady Chantal may prove to be more rewarding than
Walderon’s.”

“
Lady
Sanal will do exactly what her husband tells her to do,” Garit
said. “She always does.”

“
In a
moment of sudden surprise, he won’t have time to instruct her,”
Lord Giles pointed out. “I must say, I rather pity Sanal. Any woman
married to Walderon cannot be a contented wife. Perhaps you can use
her discontent to your own advantage.”

Jenia listened to these remarks with growing
interest as she realized that Lord Giles was not as isolated at
Nozay from court gossip and intrigue as she had first assumed. She
also noticed how he spoke of Lady Sanal without using her title, as
if he knew her well.

“
Roarke,
tell me what you think about all of this.” Lord Giles turned his
head to look up at the younger man.

“
King
Henryk ordered me to learn Lady Chantal’s fate. I intend to do just
that,” Roarke said, distilling the last half year into a few
clipped statements. “She disappeared as if by magic. Despite my
best efforts, I have uncovered no clues at all. Neither has Garit
found any evidence of what happened. Jenia is our best hope of
reaching the truth.”

“
I can
easily guess your plan,” Lord Giles said. “Jenia will pose as
Chantal.”

“
Just
so.” Roarke was frowning at Jenia. “Though if the lady would reveal
everything she knows, perhaps we wouldn’t have to put her into such
danger.”

Jenia stared back at him, not wanting to look
at Lord Giles because she found it easier to lie to Roarke than to
Lord Giles or Garit.

“
I have
told you everything,” she said, as she had said too many times by
now. “I’ve told you as much as I can remember.”

“
What do
you plan to do next?” Lord Giles asked Roarke.

“
Tomorrow, we ride to Auremont. From there, Garit will go on
to Calean City alone, to attend to some duties at court and to make
the necessary arrangements for our grand arrival. As I’m sure
you’ve noticed, we didn’t bring our squires along on this
expedition to southern Sapaudia. When Garit reaches Calean, he will
locate jewels and clothing suitable for a noblewoman and he’ll send
them to Auremont in the care of my squire.”

“
And
then?” Lord Giles asked.

“
Auremont
is less than half a day’s ride from Calean,” Garit spoke up. “If
Roarke and Lady Jenia leave early on the morning of the day we
choose for the confrontation, they can appear without warning in
King Henryk’s great hall just before the midday meal. That is the
quickest way to show our false Lady Chantal to most of the nobles
who are in Calean in attendance on the king.”

“
The
quickest way,” Lord Giles agreed, “though not the safest
way.”

“
Nobles
don’t wear their swords in the presence of the king,” Garit
said.

“
The
guilty one won’t need a sword,” Jenia said. “A sharp eating knife
will be quite sufficient.”

When
silence fell in the solar, she knew Roarke and Garit were thinking
of her reaction to Roarke’s knife, and of what she had told them a
similar knife had done. She took a long breath and let it out
slowly as she tried to banish the terrible memory, and the
apprehension. That was, after all, what she expected her own end to
be. A quick slash with a sharp knife would be most appropriate, all
things considered. She had accepted her fate; she just hoped she’d
have time to make her accusations before it happened.

“
Are you
content with this scheme?” Lord Giles said to her.

He was
looking directly at her. She had to meet his gaze. She was certain
that a man as experienced and wise as he would discern her fear
even without employing his Power. Perhaps he’d also detect her
cowardly, growing reluctance to die for the justice she sought and
for the retribution her dying would invoke, the revenge that she
had originally hoped would send her into the Next World in
peace.

“
Jenia?”
Lord Giles prompted. “My dear, are you woolgathering?”

“
I have
agreed to Roarke’s plan,” she said, “and I won’t change my mind. I
need these men to help me.”

“
Help you
to do what?” Roarke demanded, immediately leaping upon the hint she
had offered.

“
To prove
who I am,” she said.

“‘
Prove?’“ he repeated, brows raised in disbelief. “Not,
‘remember?’“

She kept
silent then, fearing she’d said too much, afraid to go to Calean,
yet more afraid of the shame she’d feel if she stayed away from
King Henryk’s court, if she hid and did not carry her quest through
to its bloody end.

Long after Jenia and Garit had sought their
beds, Roarke and Lord Giles sat together in the solar.

“
Well?”
Roarke asked, settling himself into the chair where Jenia had been
sitting. “I value your opinion. Can she be telling the
truth?”

“
Only a
very foolish woman tells everything she knows to a man who is a
stranger to her,” Lord Giles said.

“
Yes,
well, you and I both know about women who keep their own secrets
until it’s too late,” Roarke said. “But do you sense that Jenia can
possibly be Chantal? If she is, why doesn’t she make herself known
to Garit? She isn’t obligated to tell me, but he is so eager to
believe she is his vanished love, returned to him. And he’s half
mad with worry that she isn’t Chantal. There have been moments
during the last two days when I’ve wanted to strangle the wench for
the misery she’s causing him.”

“
What
about the misery she’s causing you?” Lord Giles rested his elbows
on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin.
Above his callused and scarred hands his lined face was solemn,
though his blue eyes danced with an oddly youthful mischief. “You
must admit, Jenia is a most interesting and unusual woman. She has
set a goal for herself and she will not deviate from
it.”

“
I am
aware of that.” Roarke’s voice dropped to a rough near-whisper.
Telling himself that neither Garit nor Jenia was the real cause of
his anger, he sternly repressed the rage that threatened to engulf
him. “I’ve seen how determined Jenia is, how she will not allow
herself to be deflected from what she wants. That’s why she fell in
with my arrangements much too easily, with none of the quibbles I’d
expect to hear from any ordinary woman. Her determination is also
why I cannot trust her. She’s the weakest point of my plan. I
cannot begin to guess what she’ll do once she reaches Calean
City.”

“
As I
said, lad, she has her own goal. You will learn what it is when
she’s ready, and not before.”

“
Just
so.” Roarke sighed with exasperation. “Unfortunately, that unspoken
goal of hers may well ruin my scheme. What if, by her actions, she
causes Chantal’s death?”

“
Then
there is Garit to consider,” Lord Giles said, his gaze on Roarke’s
face. “He has been your best friend for fifteen years; the same
friend who faithfully saw you through a difficult time in your life
– a time that was difficult for him, too.”

“
It’s not
the same thing. Jenia is nothing to me. She’s little more than a
stranger.”

“
Of
course.” Lord Giles did not smile or shake his head at what he must
have known was a blatant lie. Nor did he change the subject, though
an outsider listening to them would have thought he did. “I see
your father occasionally, when I am at court.”

“
I have
no father,” Roarke said in a voice cold as midwinter.

“
Lord
Oliver, then.” Lord Giles shrugged as if to say the titles men
assumed counted for little with him. Which was true, as Roarke knew
well. “He and Lady Marjorie have another son, their second healthy
boy in five years of marriage, and a little girl. What is the older
boy’s name? I never can remember it.”

“
I
wouldn’t know,” Roarke said in the same icy tone.

“
Well, if
you don’t care, I suppose it doesn’t matter what your
half-brother’s name is. Do you think Garit would like to see his
sister again? He and Marjorie were remarkably close when they were
younger.”

“
You will
have to ask Garit about that. I am going to bed.” Roarke stood and
headed for the short corridor that led to the guest
chambers.

“
You
can’t run away forever,” Lord Giles said quietly.