Page 56 of Play of Shadows

It was, as such things went, a pleasant kiss. A man of greater integrity might have stopped it sooner, but I was tired and confused and really, people rarely offered me kisses. Her tongue danced playfully with mine as her fingernails traced gentle circles on my neck. I was so caught up in the moment that I failed to notice her pushing aside the books on a lower shelf until she’d slithered her other hand into the top of my trousers.

‘Stop!’ I said, pulling away.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Afraid we’ll ruin the books?’

‘Among other things.’

‘Well, you’re no fun at all,’ the woman informed me. There was a pronounced street accent to her words. ‘I fancy the real Archduke Corbier wouldn’t turn away such an opportunity.’ She pushed aside more books and pressed her chest forward. ‘How much would you wager he’d seize the moment with both hands?’

Beneath the playful words, I noted her delivery was too smooth, too rehearsed. The cheapside rent-girl act and ribaldtone weren’t quite enough to mask a highborn Pertine accent.

I made my way back along the shelves, expecting her to evade me once again, but when I rounded the corner, she was waiting for me with a sultry smile on her lips, hands on her generous hips.

I extended my right leg back and, bowing deeply, I stretched out a hand to her. ‘I would address you properly, my Lady, but I must first beg the gift of your name.’

The entrancingly pneumatic noblewoman crossed her arms and leaned negligently against the shelves, the pale red, almost pink, braids of her hair dangling over one shoulder. ‘So where’s this “lady” you’re talkin’ to?’

She doesn’t like being caught out, so this is a competition for her. But who else is playing? Surely not a trifling actor. No, someone closer to her own class.

I kept my silence, still bowing, forcing her to acknowledge her rank.

‘Clever,’ she said at last, giving up the game. She took my hand and, just as Shariza had done, turned it and kissed the back as if she were the courtier and I the noble. ‘But wouldn’t a true Bardatti Veristor already have divined my identity?’

A friend of Ferica di Traizo’s, perhaps?But I quickly rejected that idea. Flirting with the lower classes wasn’t the Vixen’s idea of entertainment.

So, not an enemy, I decided,nor a friend, either. Someone who intends using me for their own ends, yet prefers the illusion of alliance.

My mask of nonchalance nearly fell apart when the answer came to me, but I refused to let her see my shock.

‘I aim for no title higher than that of actor, my Lady.’ Before she could pull her hand away, I echoed her action, kissing the back of it. ‘But would the name of your family win me some small measure of your esteem?’

She looked surprised and the false accent vanished, her words now sharp as a blade, her smooth delivery making her sound almost poetic. ‘Let us see, then, Damelas Chademantaigne, whether you share the investigative talents once ascribed to your grandmother, the King’s. . .Thrust, I believe they called her?’

Lately it had become everyone’s hobby to throw my grandmother’s name in my face at any available opportunity, as if my grandfather had been nothing but some lowly servant to her grander destiny. I wasn’t especially impressed with the casual insult, either.

‘Virany Chademantaigne was dubbed the King’sParry,’ I corrected, then allowed myself a lengthy– insolent– pause before adding, ‘your Grace.’

Her shoulders stiffened, her lips pressing to a flat line.

Got you!

‘You elevate me to a position I do not hold,’ she said.

I bowed low a second time. ‘Forgive me, but I assumed that as your cousin is a duke. . .’

‘Then you are twice misinformed, my handsome Veristor, for Duke Firan Monsegino is my nephew, not my cousin, and I, alas, a mere viscountess.’

Since she was so delighted with my apparent error, I decided to give her the triumph she so clearly desired. Gazing at her, I stammered, ‘B-but. . . you can’t be Kareija Meillard– you’re far too young and beautiful to beanyone’s aunt.’

‘My eldest brother’s wife gave birth to Firan shortly before my own mother—’ The victorious smile gave way to a frown. ‘Which you already knew, didn’t you? And after all the hours I spent on my disguise?’ One well-manicured finger touched her made-up lips, then traced a line over the abundance of exotic beads around her neck and down to the belt encircling her waist. ‘Are you sure you aren’t a true Veristor, Damelas Chademantaigne?’

I bowed at the compliment. ‘Merely a player, with a player’sinstincts. In truth, Viscountess, given how rarely you have been seen in Jereste since your nephew’s coronation, you could have easily passed unnoticed without disguise.’

‘Where would the fun be in that?’ Her finger drifted up to the low-cut neckline. ‘Am I so unconvincing as an actress?’

I kept the disdain reined in; it wouldn’t do to push so well-connected a woman too far. But there was something almost contemptuous in her portrayal of those for whom such feigned sensuality was a necessary tool for survival. ‘Nothing that should trouble you, Viscountess, although your performance does suffer from a condition endemic to those of high birth.’

Green eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Doenlighten me, I pray you.’

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