Chapter Five: Twelve Autumns Later

A four-piece ensemble played softly in one corner of the grand ballroom, flickering candles and lamplight lending a further sense of mystery to the masked affair. Savory aromas drifted from the kitchen, making Eron's stomach rumble.

Young ladies glided past, gesturing with their fans and gossiping to each other, giggling harder while making coquettish eyes at Eron through elaborate, jeweled and feathered masks. He adjusted his own mask, then chose a place against the wall to observe.

He found the whole pretentious event amusing, if frightfully dull.

A rather diminutive earl fingered the chain of an heirloom pocket watch. Eron could relieve him of the pretty bauble with an accidental bump. The earl's eldest daughter wore a far too flashy diamond brooch Eron had relieved her of twice tonight already, just because he could, always returning it at a slightly different angle. She hadn't noticed.

Kene didn't allow hunting in their own home. Still, it didn't hurt to keep his skills sharp. Eron tuned his ears to a nearby conversation between a bejeweled matron and her marriageable-age daughter.

The matron said, "But he's only the baroness's heir. You deserve so much more. I don't care how wealthy his benefactor is. And he's a foundling." She cut a sharp glance Eron's way, though she likely believed he couldn't understand her language. Kene employed the finest tutors. Eron spoke the matron's native tongue better than she did.

The overbearing mother continued, "There's no telling his lineage. He might even be a beggar's son. He's from Tybos! They're savages."

Eron nearly laughed, then stopped himself. Tybos? Really? Where had such a ridiculous idea come from? Tybos was far away from the continent of Ala and her civilized countries, like Dillane and Hisar.

Although men often married women for heirs, the mother needn't have worried. Kene had put no such pressure on him. Eron had no intention of ever standing before a priest. She'd also told everyone Eron came from Fashkein to keep the nosey from asking too many questions.

Affluent people didn't speak openly of Fashkein, with their relaxed attitudes about most matters that nobles sniffed haughtily over.

Kene approached with two goblets of wine in hand, wearing a decorative owl mask, lace concealing her icy blue eyes. She wore her pale hair piled high on her head and dressed lavishly in ruffled silk. How very unlike the Kene that Eron knew. Tonight, she played a part. She'd chosen a rather voluminous dress that her maid would need to wear later, depending on the mask to hide darker blue eyes. Kene handed a goblet to Eron. He admired the way light played over the crystal.

"Do I recognize these, Lady Kene?" he asked, a wry smile on his lips. What excellent timing to discover an entire chest of crystal goblets a mere eight-day before their party.

"I do not know what you're talking about," Kene replied snippily, though a brief chuckle revealed her mirth.

"I believe you do." Eron took a sip of wine. What a delightful vintage. "Ah, so the cask we liberated was worth the effort. I believe you owe me two silvers."

"A lucky guess." Lady Kene sipped her stolen wine from her stolen goblet. "Our guests should count themselves fortunate we never hunt at home."

"Speak for yourself."

Lady Kene turned a barely visible glare on Eron. "You know the rules."

He laughed. She baited so easily. "I believe I shall rob a certain young gentleman of his virginity this night."

Kene released an inelegant snort. "Hard to rob him of something he's been practically flinging at you all evening. I daresay his parents should speak to him about discretion. Particularly as they seem set on marrying him to the Earl of Hertford's daughter."

"I'm afraid he'd find that particular marriage bed quite crowded." Eron had been there himself occasionally, and he hadn't been the only guest in the earl's daughter's bed that night.

"You've been listening to gossip."

How unlike her not to know Eron gained his knowledge firsthand. "Hard not to when most conversations here are three parts gossip, one-half part truth, and the rest drunken nonsense. Tell me, how long must I endure this dreadfully tedious affair before we go out for some real adventure?" Eron tilted his head to the side, batting his lashes.

Someone gave a wistful sigh to his left. Ah, so someone was susceptible to his charms. He fully realized how he and Kene appeared; she was all icy pale, and he had midnight black hair, green eyes, and olive skin. Rumors never circulated about impropriety, though many often wondered aloud how "Lord Edry" came to be Lady Kene's ward and heir apparent.

"Just a touch longer, scamp. Mingle. Ensure you speak to as many peers as possible. Later, when we seem more distant, our guests will merely think we've had a bit too much to drink. We must keep up appearances."

And alibis.

"I'll have to tell my valet to take no liberties with the young man I plan to bed tonight."

"You know him better than that. For all his faults, he doesn't poach once you've staked your claim. Now, go. Mingle. Accept compliments and flirt with young ladies and men. I shall meet you at the stables after dinner."

A shiver of anticipation ran down Eron's spine. "I live for the moment."

Kene laughed. "I bet you do. If I was given to remorse, I might feel guilty about corrupting my ward."

"Don't. You nearly sent me to a monastery the last time you had an attack of conscience. I simply don't possess the right temperament for a monk. I like my vices far too well."

"That you do. Allowing you to corrupt the entire monastery would only add to my sins. Now go." Kene made a shooing motion with her hand. "Mingle."

Eron ducked away with a smirk on his face, having seen a certain boorish duke approaching. Kene would be lucky to escape his simpering by dinner.

"I thought I'd never escape that odious old toad," Kene said to Eron, flipping up the hood on her cloak to hide her radiant hair. Her face glowed pale in the moonlight as Rolf led their horses from the stables. "The things I must endure for the greater good. Although he brought me word of Queen Lessa."

"Queen Lessa of Anilitk? What interest do you have in her? We're not going hunting in Anilitk, are we?" As far as Eron knew, Kene avoided Anilitk at all costs.

"No. Never. I knew her as a girl. I hear she's fine other than having a cruel tyrant for a husband. Now, enough chatting. Let's go."

So, one more subject Kene didn't want to discuss. But Lessa? Why did that name seem familiar?

Eron's darker hair and complexion were better suited for nighttime exploits than Kene's, meaning he didn't need so much effort to hide. He nodded to Rolf and swung up on Rhedos, his favorite black gelding, waiting for Kene to mount as well. She'd swat him if he offered her help. Besides, she was an excellent rider as long as she wasn't required to sit sidesaddle. She'd never forgive Eron for his laughter the last time she'd tried.

"Rolf, we should return by sunrise," she said. "Please keep our guests from destroying the manor."

"Aye, milady." Rolf released his hold on the horses' reins. Kene mounted with the grace of a cat, wheeled her gelding, and darted through a back gate manned tonight by a trusted guard. None but the guard, Rolf, and two trusted servants—currently impersonating Kene and Eron—knew they'd left the party.

Eron leaned over his mount's neck, the nip in the air exhilarating against his face. He raced along beside Kene, muffling whoops of laughter. Oh, to be so free, living a double life with none the wiser.

Kene's ball of mage light illuminated their path. She'd never tell him how she made it. "It's my only magical skill," she'd said. Then she'd changed the subject.

They rode full-out for a way before Kene reined in her horse, snuffing out the mage light. In the pale moon glow filtering through a canopy of trees, Eron saw her put a finger to her lips.

He heard an owl to the south, answered by one to the north. A lone wolf howled in the distance. The wind blew through the trees. The scent of honeysuckles and fresh-mown hay drifted on the breeze.

They perched on a ridge overlooking a village. Lamplight and laughter spilled from a tavern. Kene dismounted and tied her horse to a nearby tree. Eron followed suit. Together, they strode down a goat path toward the stables. Judging by the laughter and ribald conversations from the tavern, the occupants were deep in their cups. Eron wouldn't mind being there if he didn't have more important tasks tonight.

Kene gestured, and Eron split off, keeping to the shadows. He climbed an old oak by the tavern, shimmied onto the roof, and dropped into the attic through a door. He lay on his belly on the floor, peering through a peephole.

Three men, all in King Bain's livery, were quite drunk and vying for the affections of a comely barmaid. They'd not notice Eron, and Helga would ensure their distraction.

"What news have you from Hisar?" she asked, batting her eyes at a man likely too drunk to notice.

"The king got his mistress pregnant again. He still has no legitimate sons, but I've seen the queen. I'd avoid her bed, too!" All three men laughed, two pounding the speaker on the back.

"I hear the king spends all his money on lavish parties," Helga said.

"Aye. That he does," the man slurred. "Why, he has another one planned for a ten-night. Lots of hoity-toity rich assholes will flounce all over the place, trying to win favor. I hate the lot of them. It always means double duty for us guards. Meanwhile, the people will starve come winter if he raises taxes again." His head drooped, and he emitted what might've been a snore.

Helga placed a hand on the man's shoulder, shaking him. "A wealthy gentleman stayed at the inn until earlier today. Do you know of him?"

"No," another guard said. His friend merely carried on with his snoring.

The guards couldn't assign someone to watch him if they weren't aware of the man. Eron listened for several more moments, but nothing worthwhile came of the conversation.

By the time Eron climbed down the oak, Kene waited for him. "Well?"

"Bain is holding a ball in a ten-night. Rumor says he's invited many nobles."

Kene grinned. "It's about time. I love a good party. A pity we weren't invited." She tossed a small bag into the air, catching it to a clink of coins. "The king's men aren't terribly bright to leave coins in their saddlebags for any thief to find. I've also discovered more about the nobleman Helga sent word about. He's traveling with two other men. One has the grizzled aspect of an old soldier, while the other is a young man far too frivolous to travel these parts without guards. They left before nightfall."

"Carriage?"

Kene shook her head. "Horses."

"They'll stop to make camp then." Eron spared a moment of regret for the beautiful young man he'd planned to seduce. Oh well. He'd have plenty of other opportunities.

And plenty of other men.

Eron and Kene dismounted near a clearing, watching the two men at the campfire.

The older one was possibly a hired guide, based on his crude language, but not necessarily hired muscle, so he was probably not too concerned with his charge's purse. Or not enough to put himself between the lord and outlaws.

The other appeared overdressed for a man trying not to draw attention to himself, and his accent gave him away as a Hisar nobleman. He still lived, so he must be loyal to Bain and, therefore, complicit in robbing poor village folk to line his own pockets. There was no sign of the younger man.

"I'll get these two. You go find the other," Kene whispered before disappearing into the underbrush.

Eron listened intently, wishing for some of Kene's mage light. The full moon, however, provided enough light to navigate through the woods to the sounds of splashing. A lantern sat on the ground by a stream. A very naked young man rose from the water, droplets sluicing down his skin, glowing alabaster in the moonlight. Even naked, he carried himself with the air of a man in charge of his surroundings—or at least in charge of a few servants. He was perhaps Eron's own age of twenty-two or twenty-four, depending on who one asked.

What a glorious body. Please turn around. Please turn around.

The man complied with Eron's unvoiced request, displaying a firm, round backside that likely provided many with hours of fantasies. Eron couldn't approach now. Too much temptation. He waited until the man toweled off and dressed.

"Kinda late to be wandering around alone," Eron said to him, a touch of flirtiness in his tone.

The man whirled, his back against a tree. "Don't come any closer. I'll scream."

Eron shrugged. "Go ahead. Your two companions are much too busy at the moment to answer, though. So, what are you doing out here by yourself?"

"I wanted to bathe." Though his voice trembled, the man put enough defiance into his tone to impress Eron. Eron loved a man or woman with spirit.

"Fine night for it. Under other circumstances, I might join you." Not a chance of Eron removing his mask, far less elaborate than the one he'd worn to the party. He leaned against a tree, casually toying with the fingertips of his gloves. "I don't suppose you have anything of value on your person, do you? Any pretty dangly things? Other than the obvious, that is." Eron ran his gaze up and down the man's body.

The man's pale cheeks flushed. "I… I have nothing of value."

"Oh, I think you're wrong there." Eron sauntered close and lifted the chain from around the man's long, lovely neck, exposing a silver medallion set with stones. It was too unique to sell but pretty. Eron ran a finger over the man's stubbled jaw and down his neck.

The man gave a barely perceptible shiver, throat bobbing beneath Eron's fingertip.

"Is this dear to you?" Eron puffed out his warm breath and wafted it over the man's ear, inspiring a shiver.

"A fr… friend gave it to me."

"A lover, perhaps?" Eron crooned. How interesting. Much more fun than Kene's boring old party. "You must possess quite a gift to deserve such a treasure. Or did you trade a treasure for a treasure?"

The young man's flush darkened.

Eron longed for details. Yes, as Kene observed, he reveled in good gossip when firsthand knowledge wasn't possible. Sometimes, he found valuable information hidden within idle rumors. "Would you trade me a kiss for this bauble?"

"Wh… what?"

"For a kiss, I'll allow you to keep your pretty." Eron ran his fingers over the medallion.

The man pressed his back against a tree. "A kiss? That's all you want? A kiss."

"Until the next time we meet, yes." Eron leaned in, brushing his lips against the young man's. The man sighed and opened his mouth to allow Eron access. Eron had only been keeping him occupied while Kene robbed the older men, but this willingness was a pleasant surprise.

He pulled back, smiling. Oh, yes. If they had more time, he would debauch this fellow like he'd never been debauched before.

A soft whistle sounded in the distance. Damnation! "I'm afraid I must leave now, but I shall remember your soft lips during my lonely hours."

The young man pressed his fingers to his lips, breaths coming in sharp pants. "Who are you? Are you Lord Night?"

"Lordling, actually." Eron bowed. "We'll meet again, my sweet." He sprinted through the underbrush to his meeting place with Kene. Her grin said all he needed to know. As his told her.

Eron mounted his horse. Something stiff in his pocket poked his chest. He reached his fingers in, running them along the silver likeness of Avril, a god/goddess entity prayed to when other gods or goddesses didn't suit. Beautiful, but not distinct enough for the young man to have tracked and used as a trap. After all, many in Ala revered Avril.

But, ah, the little minx had tucked a memento into Eron's pocket. Too bad they hadn't had more time.

Now, the lordling had a story to tell, and Eron had a memory and a trinket. He and Kene both had a productive night.