Page 30

Chapter 30

Kat

I hate how cold this creek is! It is true that my wound hurts far less, and he was right to drag me here. Still, it’s infuriating that the water is cold enough to freeze my blood and I can do nothing but endure it until Rahk’s tall form vanishes inside the house.

Then, as quickly as I can without hurting myself, I scramble out of the water and shake out my shirt, peeling it from my wet skin. My heart still pounds from how close he came to realizing my lie. If he had found out by my shirt sticking to my chest binding, I would have never forgiven myself for allowing such a stupid discovery.

It wasn’t as though he gave me much choice though, I think bitterly as I wring out my shirt. He threatened to carry me out here, and then he dragged me into the water despite all my protests!

I cannot be completely angry, though. The relief from the constant biting ache of my wound is so tremendous I could sigh.

It’s a quarter of an hour before I feel safe enough to risk going inside. In the beeline I make to my room, I only encounter Edvear, who speaks to Rahk in the dining room about the kitchen incident. I cringe and move past them. In a few minutes, I’m safely dry and dressed in fresh clothes that do not betray my femininity.

“Between the raids and being thrown into the creek, you’re going through clothes far too quickly,” I mutter under my breath to myself.

The day goes by fast, and I find the afternoon rest Rahk insisted upon to be just what I need. I sleep as the dead for several hours. When I come out rubbing my sleepy eyes and recoiling from the sunlight coming through the windows, Rahk smirks at me but withholds any comment.

My leg still hurts tremendously, but the edge of the pain has gone down since the cold plunge. My movements are more inclined to stiffness rather than heavy limping.

It’s one small mercy.

That evening, before I am to serve Rahk his meal, I pass his study on the way to the kitchen. I glance inside and find him standing in the middle of the room, an open book in one hand, a furrow in his brow, and his other arm lifted in midair. Curiosity makes me pause.

As I watch, he keeps glancing between the book and his feet, moving his feet in a pattern well known to me.

I almost laugh. He’s trying to teach himself how to dance! In that second, I forget the deadly arc of his swords last night, my injury, and the certainty that he will be the one to sever my head from the rest of my body. Instead, I think of how adorable he looks—one so mighty and otherwise graceful struggling with the basic steps of the waltz.

My quiet snicker betrays me. Rahk whirls. I duck away from the slim opening in the door, but he crosses the distance and swings it open fully. Revealing me staring up at him and trying to swallow my giggle.

He isn’t angry. If anything, he looks pleased that I caught him. “You’re not a very good spy.”

“I shall improve, master.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I know a sufficient punishment for you.”

“Punishment?” I bow quickly. “I believe Mrs. Finch is ready with supper! I must be going!”

He laughs, blocking my escape by planting his arm on the opposite wall of the hallway and leaning down toward me. I flush despite myself.

“You’ll not evade me so easily. I need to practice with a partner, and since I’ve caught you snooping, I’ll make you do the woman’s part.”

Oh no. Now I’ll have to pretend I don’t know how to dance—or try to pull off the illusion that I’m better at the man’s part. The way I screw up my face isn’t at all an act. “I will do anything you wish, my lord, but my ankle still bothers me.”

He cocks his head slightly and lifts one eyebrow. “You’re going soft on me, Nat. There’s no swelling, you took a dip in the creek, and you rested all afternoon. Surely it does not pain you so terribly?”

I don’t know what to reply to that. If I say it does, indeed, pain me greatly, he’ll summon the doctor, who will discover my true injury. If I say it doesn’t, then if I ever show pain again, Rahk will immediately be concerned. I do my best to shrug nonchalantly. “It definitely feels better than this morning.”

“Good. Now, step inside my study. We’ll go slowly—for your sake and mine.”

I do as he bids. The thought of dancing only makes my leg ache more than before, but I shove it away as best as I can. Remember to pretend you don’t know the woman’s part, I tell myself. Be clumsy and ignorant!

I’m afraid that Rahk will shut the door and enclose us in this small, intimate space by ourselves. To my relief, he leaves it cracked.

“Have you ever danced before?” he asks, and the way he fixes his attention on his book when he asks the question makes me feel as if he is pointedly not looking at me.

“My sister has taught me a little.”

His eyes glitter. “Did she teach you the woman’s part?”

I swallow hard and shake my head. He studies me a second longer and then turns the book my way. The page has diagrams of the foot patterns of the waltz. “Here’s your part,” he points, and runs his finger along the illustration I need to pay attention to. “You’ll have to endure any censure you feel at playing the woman.”

I am, instead, looking at the man’s part, telling myself I need to do the exact opposite of everything I know in dancing. I nod. “She’s taught me a little of the waltz.”

“Good. Now, let us get in position. Don’t look at me with such fear—I told you, we’ll go slowly.”

Chastised, I shift my gaze to the floor so he cannot read anything on my face. I pretend I’m focused very intently on my feet as I scoot close enough for us to touch, the tips of his boots filling my vision. Then, in an effort to make my act convincing, I hold up the opposite hand for him to grab.

There’s a smile in his voice when he says—his breath stirring hair on the top of my head—“The other one, Nat.”

“Oops.”

I give him my other hand and try desperately not to instantly savor the feeling of his fingers interlacing with mine. They are far rougher than any of the gentlemen that I’ve danced with before. I find I don’t mind it at all. I give a spare thought to hoping that, upon the contact, he doesn’t notice how very feminine mine are.

His other palm slides to sit just below my shoulder blade. I freeze, suddenly terrified he will feel my chest binding. But he gives no indication of the discovery.

He applies gentle pressure on my back and tugs on my hand—drawing me closer to him. I determinedly keep my gaze on the floor, lest my blush give me away.

“The waltz moves on a count of three,” he says, and his voice has gotten very quiet for some reason.

“I do remember that much,” I reply, laughing slightly to distract from my discomfort.

“I shall count to three and then we shall begin. One, two, three—”

I stop him. “It’s more of a lilting rhythm, not so stiff.” I demonstrate for him. “ One two three, one two three, one two three. ” Then, when he arches an eyebrow at me in surprise, I add, “At least, that was how Mary said it was to be done.”

“Well, then I am glad for Mary’s correction. Let us begin again. One two three —”

As the woman, I’m supposed to move backward while he moves forward. But, because I’ve got a ruse to keep, I go forward—except that I overcompensate with my opposites, and begin with my right foot instead of my left.

We collide. My nose smashes into his throat, his chin hitting my forehead, our chests nearly crashing together.

“Forgive me! I am foolish!” I cry at once, pulling back. “I’ve gotten the parts confused again. You really should get someone else to help you. Someone who is familiar with the women’s part.”

“I will not allow you to sabotage us to get out of your punishment. No, we shall be here until we’ve got it down—even if we must be here until dawn.”

“Ugh!” I whine in frustration.

He chuckles, and I might have thought his grip on me tightened just slightly. “You shall not escape your punishment so easily.”

“Mrs. Finch will be infuriated that I’m late to get your tray of food. She’ll complain that it was all perfectly hot and now it’ll be cold.”

“Your attempts to avoid this won’t work. Now, remember: you go backwards.”

This time, I go backwards, but with the wrong foot. Rahk only resets us, pulling me close to him, and counts us in again. I can think of only so many ways I can mess this up, so on the third try, I do as I’m supposed to. I allow myself seven perfect steps before I take another misstep.

My attempts to frustrate Rahk prove in vain. He only smiles at my mistakes, pulls me closer, and begins anew. By our sixth try, he holds me noticeably closer than at the beginning, and his head is tilted down toward mine, enough that I can feel every one of his exhalations in my hair. This strikes me as very strange. I frown. If he tries to dance with courtly ladies at this proximity, they’ll all call scandal.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be this close,” I say, wrinkling my brow. I dare a single glance up at him, at his handsome face, and immediately regret it. “Mary said I was always to keep the ladies at a further distance or else they’ll think I have ill intentions.”

“Mary to the rescue yet again,” Rahk replies, and adjusts our stance.

I can breathe again with more distance between us. We do several perfect turns around the room before I forget I’m supposed to be making mistakes. “You’ve picked this dance up very quickly,” I say to cover my blunder. “I’ve not seen you make a single misstep.”

“High praise indeed, coming from the servant boy.”

I take my arm that is resting on his elbow and, without thinking, smack his shoulder. He smirks.

“I mean no insult to you, Nat, as you well know.”

“You enjoy insulting me for sport.”

“I’m afraid you might be correct in that assessment. There is an easy solution, however.”

“Oh?”

His smirk widens, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. “Don’t be so fun to tease.”

I scowl, which only makes him laugh harder.

“How is your ankle faring?”

His reminder of my injury brings the pain roaring back. He was so distracting I’d almost completely forgotten about it. “It is fine.”

He releases me, stepping back. “There, you are sufficiently punished. If either Mrs. Banks or Mrs. Finch give you trouble for being late, tell me at once.”

I’m dismissed, then. Finally . I turn toward the door, ready to flee the premises, when I nearly stumble back for the shock of Edvear standing there. He wears a strange expression, his ears turned back like Bartholomew’s when she is upset. He regards me silently. I bow, not sure what else to do to hide my hot cheeks.

He steps aside and lets me scurry past. Once I’m halfway down the hallway, the door to Rahk’s study shuts with a firm click.

Rahk

“Nat is a woman,” Edvear says flatly.

I look up from the book I’ve been studying on human dances. I shut it firmly and set it down on my desk. Then I make my way to my chair and sit. I arrange my hands behind my head and lean back. So the dancing was what tipped my steward off. “Yes.”

“Great Kings,” Edvear curses. “How long have you known?”

“From the beginning.”

“And you never told anyone?”

“I intended to find out the reason behind the deception before I so flippantly revealed her. You are displeased with me?”

Edvear opens his mouth and shuts it again. “I am worried.”

“About?”

“How do we know she has not been sent to orchestrate our downfall?”

I take a deep breath through my nostrils and sigh. “She is not a threat to us. I have spent a great deal of time trying to understand the situation, and she has admitted to me that she is in danger and in need of protection. That is why I have let her stay.”

“So she has told you that she is a woman?”

I keep my face motionless. “She has not.”

A small noise of concern emits from his throat.

“Do not expose her to the servants,” I say. “I’m doing what I can to protect her.”

Edvear nods, unhappy, but obedient. “Lady Duxbury Vandermore is free to call on first thing tomorrow, if that suits you.”

“That suits me well. Tell Nat to be ready for an outing. I’ll take her with me.”