Yes, I was in the square. No, I’m not trying to get Van Gast killed. Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Why would anyone? Because he stole something from them, that’d be the usual reason, I should think. What did he steal from you, Tallia?”
She hunched further in on herself and spat out her words. “So you believe it then. Fine, believe it. Believe your wife has had a sudden change of heart for no reason. Believe Gilda has nothing to hide. It wasn’t me.”
After that she wouldn’t say another word to him, only looked at him with reproach so that he began to doubt himself. Finally, when it was clear she would say no more and wanted him gone, he went to his cabin.
Ilsa was still awake, lying in their bed. He slid in next to her, and she welcomed him with a smile. “Did you find anything out?”
He didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to talk to Ilsa about Tallia when he knew he shouldn’t be thinking of her as he did. Not with Ilsa next to him, not with her warm and welcoming now. But she asked again, so he said “Gilda says she saw Tallia go into Van’s cabin, and Tallia admits she left a note there. Only…”
“Only what?”
Holden shifted awkwardly. “Only I don’t think she’s the one trying to get Van killed.”
“But she’s admitted the note. Van says she makes him itch, and he knows trouble when it’s here. Poor Van.”
Holden’s sharp glance caught the dreamy look in her eyes when she said that last. “Yes, poor Van.”
Her lips twitched into a smile he didn’t recognize as hers. Something else behind it, someone else. The real Ilsa coming through perhaps. He wasn’t sure he liked it.
“You don’t want to think it was her because you like her,” she said.
Was he that obvious? He might like Tallia too much for his own good, but he was going to squash that. Maybe Ilsa was right, maybe that was the only reason he wanted to believe her. “No, that’s not it. I do like her, maybe it is her that gave him away, but—she reminds me of someone, I just can’t think who.”
“Oh, I think so.” The ice between them was back, but Holden wasn’t sure why or how, until Ilsa spoke again. “She reminds you of Josie.”
With that, she turned her back on him, her shoulder cold again. He’d taken great pains to make sure she didn’t find out, that his foolishness not hurt her. Josie…that one night had been utter stupidity on his part, hoping his dreams might come to life, believing her when all she wanted was for him to not kill Van.
He turned on his side to watch Ilsa as she pretended to sleep. Ilsa couldn’t know of that guilt of his, but maybe she was right and it was Josie who Tallia reminded him of. He wasn’t sure how—in looks they were opposites, with Josie pale and fair and Tallia with her nut-brown skin, her dark hair and black eyes full of life. Yet there was something and maybe it was that reminder that made him hesitate.
That reminder too that made him want, ever harder, to make it up to Ilsa, even if she never knew why. He fell asleep watching her, wishing he knew what to do, what he’d done to make the ice come back. Afraid he knew the answer.
When he woke up, Ilsa was gone.
* * *
Van Gast came out of the sixth inn knowing no more than when he’d started. He didn’t think anyone had recognized him—he doubted his mother would recognize him as he was, in rags, barefoot, his hair a tangled mess and with a day’s growth of beard where usually he was meticulously clean shaven.
No, no one had recognized him, but no one seemed to know anything either. Guld hadn’t managed to find Josie or Skrymir either aboard the Queen or anywhere in the city. If they were in disguise, then maybe they were staying in an inn, which had led to this evening’s fruitless work. He hadn’t found them, or any word of them. A few rumors of a Gan ambassador, which Van Gast could only assume was why Skrymir had been wearing mail and Josie was in the prim dress. Even those rumors were shadow thin.
A waste of a night, perhaps. Perhaps not. His little-magics were burning a hole in his chest, and the distraction from that, from everything, was welcome. He didn’t want to