Page 43 of Ties of Dust

The valet looked wounded, a demeanor that didn’t move Cassius at all.

“Very well, Your Highness. I did not mean to interfere.” He held up a thick, embroidered tunic to Cassius to test the effect, his eyes sliding surreptitiously to Cassius’s face as he did so. “But you say she is part of your guard? She didn’t wear the uniform.”

Cassius was having none of his playacting. He pushed the tunic aside with a shake of his head.

“Not that one, it’s too stiff. I’m thinking of going to the training yard. Something I can breathe in.” He nodded approval of the second option offered. “And as for the woman outside my door, I find it inconceivable that you haven’t heard through the rumor mill that she’s a Siqualianguard assigned temporarily to my protection as part of the pending alliance.”

The valet’s tone was reproachful now. “Your Highness, I would not so demean myself as to listen to the gossip of the serving girls.”

One such girl threw him a dirty look behind his back as she bustled through, clearing out the water basin. Cassius felt his lips twitch.

“And if I had heard such a tale,” the valet went on, “I would have found it difficult to believe, Your Highness. A young woman as a member of the royal guard?”

“It’s unusual,” Cassius acknowledged. “Perhaps less so given she usually serves as part of Princess Miriam’s protection.”

“But now she is on your protection, Your Highness,” protested the valet. “It is highly improper.”

Cassius stared silently at the older man until he saw the valet begin to wilt. Satisfied that the valet knew the subject was not to be broached with him again, he moved on.

“I wish to speak to my father as soon as I’ve eaten,” he said, striding out into his receiving room in pursuit of a pleasant smell.

“I will discover His Majesty’s whereabouts and send a messenger to alert you,” the valet said.

Cassius nodded, surveying with an approving eye the spread that had been left on a small table. It was more than enough for two.

“Excellent,” he said brightly. He nodded to a servant who was stoking the fire. “Please send in my new guard. She will not have eaten.”

“Your Highness!” the valet protested as the servant hurried to obey. “Surely you will not have her eat with you in your own rooms. A common guard?”

“You may go now,” Cassius told him coolly, ignoring the comment.

Arguing with his valet in Flora’s defense would do her no favors. But if he’d been inclined to be open, he would have told the other man that whatever she was, Flora wasn’t a common guard. In fact, the puzzle of what exactly her life had entailed had been playing on Cassius’s mind. She’d perfected the manner of a guard, but it didn’t take much observation to see that she was playing a part.

It hadn’t occurred to Cassius until later how much she’d omitted from her tale about her studies with Princess Miriam. He’d assumed she’d been born into poverty before she managed to win herself a place at the school thanks to her talent and determination. But on reflection, he realized she’d never actually said that.

And the more time he spent with her, the less he was satisfied that her superior education was explanation enough for the subtle dignity of her manner.

In particular, her outburst the day before came to mind, when she’d called him to account for speaking of her like an item to be bandied about between crowns. Her manner of speaking, even the words she’d used…they didn’t belong to a common guard. Or a common anything. She’d been so poised, even in her anger, and she’d spoken to him like an equal.

He supposed that should have offended him. The secret, guilty truth was that it had exhilarated him. He’d been mesmerized, and he’d never felt more drawn to her. She had a fire inside her that a casual observer would never expect from her stoic exterior.

All this ran through his mind as the door opened and Flora walked in, the valet casting her a last disapproving look as he left the suite.

“You called for me, Your Highness?” Flora said.

Speaking of stoic exteriors…

“Yes, come in,” he said, gesturing to the pair of armchairs placed on either side of the small table.

Flora moved to stand behind one of them. Very guard-like.

“I gather you’ve been in the corridor for hours already,” Cassius said. “You must be hungry.”

“My needs are met, Your Highness,” she said uncomfortably.

Cassius sighed. She was impossible.

“That will be all, thank you,” he told the few servants still milling around. They didn’t seem to be actually doing anything. Anything beyond gathering gossip, that was.

---