Clans of Luteri Ch. 04

But as much as he wanted revenge on Corsaire—as much as the need to see them suffer sometimes consumed him until it was all he could think about—turning her over to Tavishi clan was weighing on him more heavily every day. He had made the decision before he understood she had been abandoned here as a child with no memory of Luteri. He had been willing to leave this to his father, to do what was right for his clan and bring home this valuable prisoner.

Kane didn't think his father would order her execution in the courtyard, but he didn't know it. It was an opportunity to win a substantial blow against Kavini, the Corsaire High Lord, and Kane was afraid his father would be tempted to order it for the sake of Tavishi clan.

Even if his father ransomed her instead, she would still be treated like a prisoner before she was returned. That was a given. Kane would be expected to strip her in the High Lord's Hall as he had done the first night. When they were satisfied with her humiliation, she'd be given a rough dress and her hands would be tied and she would walk behind a horse through the village while Tavishi hissed and spit on the stones in front of her. If she fell, she'd be dragged for a ways.

She wouldn't even really understand why. She hadn't been raised with the feud. He could tell himself she was his enemy, and she was Corsaire, yes. But Jaime was right, too. She was innocent of all this, and that was so clear he couldn't ignore it anymore. Kane looked out at the green hills, not seeing them. He was afraid bringing her to his father would be an act that would stain his soul and send him down a path from which he would never return.

#

"Wake up, Corsaire."

She sat straight up when he ripped off the covers, confused, reaching to pull the coverlet back to herself, frowning at him. He was already dressed.

"What are you doing?" she said indignantly.

"We're going walking."

She looked out the window.

"The sun is barely up, Lord Tavishi."

"But I am, in more ways than one, thanks to you wrapping yourself around me last night."

It was a lie but she flushed, her mouth dropping open, her eyes flashing. She was so beautiful in the mornings. He turned to get his boots.

"I did not," she choked as he pulled the first one on.

"And you snore," he lied again, pulling on the second, standing and stomping into it.

She flounced out of the bed, her hair mussed, her cheeks still flushed, still holding the coverlet to herself. He watched her. She was looking for a retort, discarding what she didn't dare say.

"It's hardly polite to tell me so, Lord Tavishi," she finally said, sniffing.

Her act of injured dignity was ruined by her angry snatch at the coverlet as he reached down and pulled on it relentlessly. For a moment she battled him before she yielded it, glaring.

"You can walk the grounds in your undergarments but you'll be cold and the servants will be offended," he told her.

"Have you lost your reason?"

He couldn't help it. He laughed, the first real laughter he'd shared with her. She stared at him, looking convinced of his madness now.

"I will march you through the house regardless of what you are wearing in a moment," he told her.

She obviously believed him. She walked to the chair, ignoring his leer, another small sniff. She reached for the blue dress. He already had the other in his hand and he tossed it on the bed.

"Put that one on. It's cool outside. And bring a cloak."

"I do not own a cloak, as you know quite well, Lord Tavishi."

She picked up the dress and pulled it over her head, giving him a show if she'd known it, her breasts rising against the undergarment, her nipples stiff with the cold air. She must have realized because she turned her back to him while it was still over her head, looking trapped, giving him an entirely different kind of show, her little round butt wiggling as he watched with interest.

He burst out laughing again as she finally swam into it, tugging on it, turning around to him, her face flushed and stormy, her eyes snapping with temper. He walked to his chest, entirely entertained, pulling it out. He had bought it for her in Versace, looking for his clan's symbol. The profits from the sale would go back to them, which seemed fitting.

"Now you do."

He tossed it to her, very heavy, the hood fur-edged in black, pin-tuck red satin lined. It was Luterian wool, the most supple and warmest wool in the world by far, entirely waterproof, heavy. Kane suddenly realized it had cost more than she had, a strange thought. She caught the armful of rich cloth, staring at it blankly. Her hand ran over the fur, then the wool, feeling the softness. She set it on the bed carefully, backing away as if it would bite her.

"Lord Tavishi, I cannot accept this. This is...this is not for someone like me."

"Why, because you were a whore?"

He regretted it as soon as he said it. It was as if he had struck her. She looked down. She smoothed the dress, her hands shaking, trying to hide her reaction. Kane went and took up the cloak. He shook it, allowing it to fall, putting it around her and fastening it. She still wouldn't look at him.

"It's cold outside and it might rain and you will need it for the sea voyage, regardless," he told her quietly.

"Thank you, Lord," she said, swallowing, reaching to gather her hair. "I will just—."

"Leave it," he said.

He liked her hair down. Once they were outside, he slowed his stride, adjusting to her. He didn't choose any particular direction, although he found his feet turning toward the path he had wanted to show her. The cloak suited her, the red satin of the lining flashing, the rich black complimenting her coloring. Her cheeks gained some color with walking, but she was still quiet. She kept glancing at the ridge and trees to their left.

"Are you planning your escape, Corsaire?"

She gave him a quick sharp glance.

"No," she said, her voice low. "I'm merely enjoying the sight of them, Lord Tavishi. I used to get up when I was a child and go walking in the woods when it was just light."

"By yourself? Where were your protectors?"

"After Miss Drummon left, Miss Stram saw to my care. But walking outside was upsetting to Miss Stram. She believed the outside air carried toxins."

"Toxins," he echoed incredulously. "Where is this Miss Stram now? Is she dead?"

"She is not dead that I know," the Corsaire responded, glancing at him as if the question was odd. "I don't know where she is, Lord Tavishi. She didn't tell me. She left the day Lord Montrose came for me."

"What about the other children?"

"There were no other children, Lord Tavishi," she said.

"I thought you were raised in a home with other children who had no parents."

"By the time I arrived the orphanage was to be closed. I was the last one."

Raised in isolation and then the one who had cared for her had given her to this Alverian lord to brutalize and then abandoned her. They walked in silence. He searched for something to say.

"Jaime says Dunston is an awful place," he said. "Is it so bad?"

"I have never been there. I was never away from the orphanage until —." She stopped, struggling. Kane looked away. A deep pang went through him. So like Helene, his sister, that silence. She finally resumed. "Until Lord Montrose brought a carriage one day and took me to his estate."

They walked.

"Who taught you to play the piano?"

"There was an old piano at the orphanage and a primer book on how to read music. I taught myself. When I went to his estate—," she said, and stopped, resuming. "When I went to his estate, Lord Montrose engaged a music teacher for me. I thought he was being kind." Kane didn't say anything. He hadn't asked her questions before, hadn't wanted to know. "I imagine that seems foolish to you."

She was becoming more agitated as they walked. She glanced at him, and again. She began to breathe faster.

"Lord Tavishi, regarding your comment earlier. I know that I am a...whore, and that you owe me no kindness, that you have said repeatedly we are not friends, but I would like to ask...to request—." She was breathing even faster. "I thought I was going to Pilet to be a domestic servant. That's what I was told. I assure you I didn't know. I am sure that makes me stupid and ignorant, and I wouldn't want to deceive my family in Luteri. I am not asking you to deceive them, but if you would maybe tell them that I didn't intend to bring this shame to them and I know that they perhaps will not want me for it—."

As if she were the one who should be shamed for being brutalized. Kane felt a flash of deep outrage. He didn't care if she was Corsaire. She shouldn't think this. She was Luterian. He stopped and turned to her, taking her by the shoulders. She was crying. She looked down.

"If Corsaire knew you were here," he told her, leaning in, catching her eyes, "they would send twenty men by the fastest ship to retrieve you, and they wouldn't stop looking until they found you. When they did, they would take you back to Luteri and all your clan would welcome you gladly. They would be ashamed that they failed to protect you better, and you would be treated with compassion and respect."

She was staring at him.

"But...you have mocked me, have hated me for it—," she began.

"Not for that!" he said, giving her a small shake. "I am Tavishi! I am not your clan, Corsaire! We are in feud!"

He released her, raking his hand through his hair. She had to understand.

"Corsaire have been my enemy since I learned to walk. They have done things to people I love and the hate has been so wild and hot in me that I have known nothing else for years but my desire to fight them until every last Corsaire was dead," he spat.

She flinched from him, her eyes searched his face.

"That's why you treat me this way," she said, finally hearing him. "You aren't taking me to my family in Luteri. You're taking me to yours."

He walked to face her.

"I have not lied to you," he said coldly. "I have never hidden this from you. I have told you again and again. You are a prisoner of Tavishi. I am your enemy."

She was staring at him as if she was seeing him for the first time, his gut tense to see it. She swallowed, nodding.

"What will your clan do to me, Lord Tavishi?"

"My father might decide to ransom you. They will pay a great deal for you."

"Or?"

"My father might decide not to ransom you."

"I don't understand. Then I would be returned to Alveria?"

"No."

She looked at him, waiting.

"Where will I go?" she finally said.

"You will be brought to your clan, one way or another. I have already told you that."

"I don't understand."

He didn't say anything, holding her eyes. She leaned away from him. He watched the knowledge come to her, what any Corsaire—any Luterian—would already have known and she hadn't.

"The Tavishi might kill me?" she said faintly.

"And drop your body at the Corsaire gates to shame your clan," he finished for her.

He turned her, putting his hand on her arm, walking her back to the mansion. They didn't speak. He opened the door, putting her through it. Jaime looked up from the dining table as they passed, smiling.

"Kane! Have you had breakfast, Emma?"

Jaime froze when he saw her face. He got to his feet.

"What's wrong?"

"Go upstairs," Kane said to her.

She turned and walked to the bottom of the stairs. She started up them as he watched, taking them quickly, gaining speed until she was running up. She ran to the door of the room, closing it behind her.

"What happened, Kane?" Jaime asked him.

Kane looked at him grimly.

"Tell me about this domestic position you can give her."

Jaime nodded, gesturing to the table, sitting.

"I am so relieved you have changed your mind, Kane," Jaime said.

Kane dropped into the chair across from him.

"It will not be for more than a year, probably closer to eight months," Kane said.

"You're not leaving her permanently in Alveria?"

"It's too dangerous for her here without a protector, Jaime, and that is not your role. When I return to Luteri, I will get word to Corsaire clan where she is."

"You're returning Emma to her clan?"

"Corsaire will retrieve her. I promise there is no danger to you. They will be very grateful, and will probably want to give you gifts for sheltering her. You should take them or they will be offended. You are not to let her be harmed in any way if you can prevent it, nor are you to fall in love with her in the interval or she with you."

Jaime nodded carefully.

"Of course, Kane. I knew you would do the right thing."

Kane didn't say anything to that. He knew Jaime didn't understand. It was not the right thing. Not for his clan. He would dishonor himself. He just didn't see what other choice he had.

"I will leave funds for her care," Kane continued. "I would not require her to work except that this is the only way she can be here without it being seen as something sexual that would damage your reputation, right?"

"That is the primary dilemma, yes."

Kane leaned back. Alverians just couldn't imagine other reasons for one person to help another.

"Can you have her here without becoming attached in a way that is not friendship?" Kane said. "I see you are fascinated by her."

It was not a question he would ever ask a Luterian, not in any clan. He suddenly realized Jaime would know that.

Jaime looked down for a long moment, just his eyes, and when he looked up, his face was bland. A little distant but friendly. Yes. Kane had spent almost five years with this man. He had not just offended Jaime, he had hurt him.

"I am fascinated, yes," Jaime answered slowly. "There is a spirit in her, a lightness that I see in all Luterians. I see it in you, Kane, if you could surmount this hatred that eats at you. It is what drew me since I first learned about Luteri in my picture books when I was a boy. It is like a small part of Luteri is made up of the stuff of legends and those who live there walk in them. You're right. Alveria isn't safe for someone like Emma, even I can see that."

Kane was staring at him now, very much regretting his question. Jaime continued.

"And living with Tavishi clan for four years, becoming your friend—." Jaime glanced at him and smiled. Then he sobered. "It has been the greatest adventure of my life. But I am Alverian. I belong here, as much as you see our shortcomings so clearly, Kane. I know what they are. But I sometimes wonder how you reconcile your love for me with your low opinion of us."

Kane stared at him, feeling a wave of guilt. Had he been so obvious? On the heels of that came the next. Had he welcomed the few sincere attempts Jaime's dinner guests had made to learn more about him, or had he just dismissed them? He looked away. Jaime was right. He could not feel what he did for the man sitting opposite him if the people he came from were not of some value, and his respect for Jaime didn't reconcile with this contempt.

"I have been untrusting and arrogant," Kane said, turning back to face him. "You learned about Luterians even when it was uncomfortable and foreign to you and still offered me your friendship."

Jaime waved a hand lightly, looking embarrassed.

"I asked you here because I didn't want my time with you to end. My parents are dead, my sister is married. I wanted to be irresponsible a little longer and dragged you all the way across the sea to satisfy that. I knew you were never interested in Alveria."

Kane stood up.

"No, but I am interested in you. I should have realized that the two were not separable when you invited me here. You are a product of this place as much as I am of my homeland. I wish I had learned this sooner."

Jaime's voice caught him in the doorway.

"Can I ask you something, Kane?"

Kane hovered.

"Anything."

"How old are you?"

Jaime had asked him this before and he'd evaded it. Kane flashed a smile, glancing around for servants and then spoke in Luterian.

"I will be thirty-four in six months."

"Thirty..." Jaime said in Alverian, trailing away before switching to Luterian. "But you look my age, a young man in his twenties. How long do Luterians live? There are so many things people have said that didn't quite make sense in my time in Luteri, things people appeared to remember that they couldn't possibly—."

"About three hundred years."

Jaime stared at him.

"Three hundred years," he echoed faintly. "Three hundred years?"

"Yes. I have told you one of the things we don't tell others," Kane said. "My honor, and the honor of my clan, relies on you not repeating that."

"Of course, Kane. I will not, ever. And Emma will live that long?"

"If the Corsaire lives that long, yes."

Jaime sat looking into nothing for a moment, blinking. Then Jaime looked up at him, his eyes narrowing.

"Wait," Jaime said suspiciously. "You said one of the things we don't tell others. You said that on purpose. There are more?"

"There are always more, Jaime," Kane grinned, walking into the parlor and grabbing a sweet cookie, then back to the sitting room, dropping into the sitting couch. For sitting.

"You know that you are insufferable," Jaime said from the dining room, not far.

"You like me too much, house cat."

#

When he finally walked up the stairs early in the evening, he found the Corsaire in bed, lying on her side. She didn't move when he came in.

"Go and see Lord Shetlan," he said. "He would like to speak with you."

Kane undressed and got into bed after she left. He heard her come in much later, the whisper of cloth and then the bed as she settled in, her scent coming to him. There was a long silence.

"Thank you, Lord Tavishi," she said.

He opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling.

"You're welcome, Corsaire."

#

At dawn, Kane got up quietly, getting dressed, looking at her. He would walk. It was still sprinkling lightly. Spring in Alveria didn't commit to rain. It just threatened it constantly, waiting for you to relax your guard, and then it rained. Kane went into the wardrobe and got his cloak, putting it on.

When he exited the room, he found a small trunk outside the door. Her belongings from the night with Lord Montrose. He must have left it in the carriage and the servants had eventually noticed it under the seat and finally delivered it.

Kane put the case on the side table and opened it, rifling through it. A drab, stained shirt with cheap stitching. He refolded it. Personal grooming items. A small worn book of poetry. A box of four buttons, the same as on the shirt, with a needle and a spool of white thread. Three rocks with interesting shapes. A feather.

He picked the feather up and looked at it, setting it down carefully. It was pretty, brown striping, obviously important to her. A wood box, not large, fitting in his hand. He picked it up and tucked it under his arm, closing the case.

He went to the same grove where he had brought the Corsaire when he had put her with him on Shaol, stopping himself from thinking about her face when she had smiled up at him. It wouldn't help him to think about her that way. That path would lead to a kind of dishonor he wouldn't survive.

He had already dishonored himself by protecting her. He had put her above his clan's interests. She was a valuable, important prisoner and Kane was not just letting her go, walking away. He was actively helping her to evade Tavishi and return to her clan safely.

She was Corsaire. She might not feel like his enemy anymore, but she couldn't be anything else. He needed to get away from her before he forgot that.

Kane leaned his back against the tree, sitting, putting the box down beside himself, his hand hanging over his knee, his leg crooked. He tilted his head to watch the sunlight filter through the leaves above him. He knew he was in love with her, had known since the day he'd brought her here on Shaol.