Rebel's Honor(17)

The door slid open.





Chapter 12





It was Avanov. He fixed his honey-brown eyes on Lynx, and a sardonic smile quickly followed.

Lynx didn't smile back.

"You're needing something, my lord?" Uncle Bear asked, reverting to Chenayan.

Although his voice was mild, Lynx felt his leg next to hers stiffen. He was no more pleased to see Axel Avanov than she was.

"Some space. That's all."

It didn't seem to worry Avanov that the three of them were huddled  together, obviously whispering. He disengaged his eyes from Lynx's and  sauntered to the far end of the dining table.

With one hand, he unbuckled his weapons belt and dumped it on the table.  A sword and a short-handled hand axe clattered onto the glossy surface.  In his other hand, he carried a whetstone and a bottle of sharpening  oil that he also tossed down.

Nimble fingers unclipped his steel vambraces, letting them fall next to  his weapons. Then, he rolled his black sleeves above his elbows. That  done, he unhooked the hand axe from the belt and ran a scarred finger  down one of the blades. The edge looked wickedly sharp-but obviously not  sharp enough to satisfy the general. He squeezed a drop of oil onto the  whetstone and honed the blade.

The rasp of metal on stone destroyed the silence.                       
       
           



       

Why he needed to do this job in here, when the guardsmen had a whole car, complete with a sharpening bench, was a mystery.

Unless he was here to take over vigil from Mother Saskia. Lynx scowled.  "So, General, your priestess was telling us about her moonstone. Maybe  you want to tell us about your ruby?"

"I hardly think you'd be interested in anything I have to say,  Princess." He gave her a cocky smile. "At least not on such a dull  subject. But I'm sure you and your uncle have a great deal to talk  about."

Sure, while you eavesdrop.

Kestrel pushed back her chair and stood. "Talk, talk, talk. That's all  we do on this train." She glared at Uncle Bear. "But when I bring up a  subject important to me, no one wants to answer. So, if you excuse me,  I'm going to find Mother Saskia. Maybe she'll answer my questions about  Prince Tao."

"My dear-" Uncle Bear called as Kestrel flounced out. He sighed.

Avanov shook his head and bent to his sharpening. Lynx slouched back in  her chair. Pretty much an expert at knife honing, she could at least  compare skills. Axel's privileged upbringing had not precluded such  basic chores as weapon maintenance. The muscles of his forearms bulged  beneath his sun-bronzed skin as he coaxed an even keener edge onto the  blade. Even the sinews in his hands stood out in stark relief.

Watching him work was positively erotic.

Lynx swallowed hard, reaching for her lock of hair. Not finding it, her fingers hung limp next to her head.

The girls she'd grown up with had always swooned over abs or butts. She  had been unique in seeking out forearms and hands to drool over. As  handsome as Heron was, she had always lamented his blunt fingers.

Now, here, on this Chenayan, she'd found the most beautiful hands she'd  ever seen. The irony wasn't lost on her. She leaned closer for a better  look just as Uncle Bear cleared his throat.

The sound bumped her back to reality. A wave of self-disgust flooded  through her. What would Heron think if he knew she ogled Chenayans just  days after parting from him? What would her father think, for that  matter?

Her face hot as a pot-bellied stove, she turned to her uncle, praying to  the Winds that Axel hadn't seen, or sensed, her gawping at him.

Uncle Bear watched her with an intrigued expression.

It was mortifying. Lynx didn't do mortifying. Not well at least. A  change of direction was vital, so at the risk of Axel eavesdropping, she  leaned in close, whispering in Norin, "You were saying something about  the Dreaded."

Her uncle's thin lips looked in danger of vanishing. Then his head turned-deliberately as any raptor's-and he studied Axel.

Axel seemed totally lost in his work.

Uncle Bear closed his eyes and pursed his lips-an action Lynx  recognized. Her uncle was thinking hard about something. Finally, he  sighed and then gestured to Lynx with a bony finger to come closer. She  angled her chair toward him.

His mouth pressed to her ear, he whispered, "I don't trust Mott to honor  the agreement to have you stay with me until the wedding, so despite my  better judgment, I must grab this chance to speak to you."

Back in command of her faculties, Lynx whispered, "But would they understand Norin?"

"Who knows? I doubt Avanov does, but still-"

"Perhaps it would be wiser if we exchanged notes. Did you bring parchment and quills?"

"The priestess didn't limit her search to only your and Kestrel's  luggage. For the sake of peace, I relinquished my writing materials."  His voice dropped. "The risk of speaking is high, but I must warn you of  a few things."

Lynx glanced at Avanov, who whistled softly, his head still bent over  his work. She took her uncle's hand and leaned in even closer. "I'm  listening."

After a short pause, Uncle Bear said, "Every emperor lives in terror of  the day someone destroys the empire. They have done everything in their  power to prevent that happening. The palace writhes with informers-be  careful whom you trust. But, although insidious, informers are not the  greatest threat. Beware the Dreaded. Did you see them when you were at  the palace?"

"I don't think so. But I was only there for a couple of hours." She  frowned, uncertain. "I'm not even sure what the Dreaded are."

Her uncle leaned in closer. "Spirits of the dead."

"Oh." A chill flushed through Lynx. "H-have you ever seen one?"

Uncle Bear nodded, tickling her ear with the stubble around his mouth.  "I've seen images of hideous apparitions in the palace and on the  streets of Cian. They appear out of nothing, flash, and disappear."                       
       
           



       

"What are they for?"

"They watch everyone. It is whispered the Dreaded even report those who  disobey Avanov rule to the guardsmen. Every Chenayan knows someone who  vanished after seeing an apparition. Guard that tongue of yours, Lynx,  so that you don't become one of them."

Lynx laughed nervously, hating his echo of her father's words. "They'd kill me? Aren't I supposed to be Lukan's new toy?"

Her uncle grunted. "Quicker than the Winds blow. The history of Norin princesses in Chenaya has not been a happy one."

"I know. Father and I were talking about that before I left Norin." Lynx glared at Avanov.

His hand axe lay on the table, gleaming in the sunlight streaming into the car. He had started on his sword.

She leaned in and whispered, "Father wants me to find out about the gemstones and their superhuman powers."

Her uncle's brow furrowed. "I'm sure he does. I've been working on that for years, but it is no easy matter, as an outsider."

"I recently killed a guardsman and prized the jasper out of his face, but it told me nothing."

His hot breath warmed her ear. "It's that kind of stomach that makes you  so ideal for this job. You will need to be more subtle in Cian, though.  Even admitting to killing guardsmen will earn you a swift execution.  So, I will help you spy. Together, we'll unravel this secret. But we'll  discuss more of this next time we're alone."

A wave of relief flooded through Lynx that she didn't have to do this  almost impossible thing alone. She relaxed and sat back, letting the  legs of her chair clatter onto the wooden floor.

Avanov looked up. "Just because you don't like the furniture, Princess, doesn't mean you get to break it."

"Huh. That's rich, coming from someone who just flung his weapons on the  table," Lynx shot back. "And as mine were stolen from me, I don't have  the privilege of sharpening them."

"My, we are in a grumpy mood." Axel strapped his belt around his narrow  waist. "You proved yourself unreliable with weapons, Princess, so you  have only yourself to blame." A derisive smile. "I can show you the scab  to prove it, if you like."

Completely ignoring the humor in his voice, Lynx leaped to her feet,  sending her chair scooting back. "I was protecting my sole surviving  braid from that she-witch you call a priestess. It's not my fault you  were stupid enough to get in the way."

Her uncle covered his face with his hands, then groaned.

This was probably just the kind of thing he-and her father-had had in  mind when he told her to guard her tongue. She grimaced. For a girl who  was used to saying her piece, adapting to Chenaya was going to be much  tougher than she'd anticipated.

"‘She-witch'?" Axel burst into laughter. He pulled his hand axe off his  belt and sauntered over to her. "Your description of our glorious Great  High Priestess has won you another shot at playing with sharp objects.  So, at the risk of repeating my stupidity, I give you full permission to  attack the furniture-and nothing else. If the she-witch complains,  blame me." He cocked his head. "Or maybe not. She might just fry me."