Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(7)

“How will we find the hotel?” Cettie asked.

Jevin smiled pleasantly. “There is a hurricane hovering over it. It is one of our enemy’s bases in Occitania.”





CHAPTER THREE

THE STREETS OF GENEVAR



The carriage wheels rattled down the cobblestone streets. The carriage itself was a handsome gold-and-blue contraption, outfitted with plush padded walls inside and springs underneath to make the ride more comfortable. The rear wheels were larger than the front ones, and a team of four horses pulled it at a dramatic pace. The driver box was in the front, at the top, providing the passengers with an unobstructed view of Genevar when the horses lurched down the inclines.

Cettie wondered if the city-state ever slept. Light posts spread at even intervals along the path revealed the burgeoning crowds. They had passed multiple manors nestled behind iron bars or stone walls before reaching the inner rings of the city, where both the streets and the buildings were jammed tightly together. Although each home was different in style and decor, they blended into a harmonious whole that indicated the vast wealth of the trading nation.

“So unlike the City,” Rand said, gazing outside the window on his side of the carriage. There were several other carriages out and about, although there were also pedestrians and some men and women on horseback. The tick-tocking noise of the carriage’s wheels became difficult to hear as the traffic increased.

“It’s very different,” Cettie agreed, still giddy from the revelation that Rand was to be her kishion and the joy of being outside the walls of the school. Rand’s hand was so near hers on the comfortable bench she thought they might touch if the carriage jostled more. A part of her wanted that to happen. She swallowed, gazing the other way. Despite her separation from Adam, it didn’t feel right.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me yet,” he said, drawing her eyes back to him. The hint of a smile flashed on his mouth.

“Asked you what?”

“About Fog Willows. How everyone is getting on.”

Cettie had been wanting to ask. Her heart had been begging it of her. And yet, she knew it was dangerous to appear too interested in home. She guarded her expression and shrugged. “If you want to tell me. I’m still surprised you’re here.”

“Why should you be?” he asked. “You know I hate nearly everything the empire stands for. The meanness. The hypocrisy. The small minds. I seek to change things, just as I have always wanted to. I tried to work through the system.” He shook his head. “But without backers, you can’t get anywhere in politics, and you won’t get backers unless you commit to do what they want. It’s so corrupt. No, when I was offered this chance, I leapt at it.” He gave her a quizzical look. “How did you end up here?”

There was something suspicious about his question. Shouldn’t he already know? It struck her that perhaps Rand’s sudden appearance at the school was too good to be true. The first few times she had been allowed to leave the poisoner school—after she had donned her kystrel and accepted the brand—she had been followed. Then they’d allowed her to travel alone. She’d thought about escaping, but logic had intervened. They could have followed her through the kystrel, and she likely wouldn’t have made it outside of Genevar without being captured . . . killed. Her mother and father were always watching her, judging her, testing her. Was Rand’s presence yet another test to see if she was loyal?

“I was tricked into coming,” Cettie said in an offhanded manner. “Lady Corinne brought me here.”

His look altered, just slightly. She felt a connection to him through the kystrel—one that allowed her to read his emotions, but not his thoughts. She understood that the longer he wore her kystrel, the stronger that bond would become. To the point, eventually, that their minds would be open to each other. Right now, she felt suspicion in him—suspicion about her motives. It was strange how clearly she understood his feelings without relying on expressions or other clues.

“So . . . if you could leave, you would?” he asked in a low voice. He leaned closer. “I could take you back to Fog Willows.”

Part of her wanted to leap at the opportunity. But his direct approach only made her more certain this was a test. She’d have to be very careful with what she said or felt.

“No,” Cettie said, shaking her head. “As much as I’d like to see it again, I don’t belong there anymore. Tell me about your sister. How is Joanna? How have you managed to keep her in the dark?”

“You have changed,” he said, and she felt a little throb of relief inside him. “Joanna is . . . well, Joanna. She’s quite popular these days. Fashionable too. She and Stephen Fitzroy have been . . . well, they’ve become close. Joanna could have any man in the empire, if she chose, but I think she’s got her eye on Stephen. He’s been very successful. He runs the mines and the family business. Selling secrets to the ministries, as you used to.” He winked at her. “They’ve set up some of those storm glass contraptions here in this world. In Brythonica, I think, though it won’t be long before all of the empire’s allies have them. Occitania and Legault have each been vying to get them too. And since you won’t ask, Lady Maren is also doing well. She’s taken a lover, but that doesn’t surprise anyone. An old flame of hers.”