Bonded to the Rakian Berserker (Rakian Warrior Mates #3) - Elin Wyn Page 0,15

from the next, even divisions between the rings themselves. In the center, of course, live the Council members. The high families, their mansions and courts and entertainments.” Her lips quirked. “We weren’t welcome there for very long. The next ring belongs to the merchants and traders. They’ve got the money, but only as much power as they can buy.”

“And that gives you and Gavin a good excuse to stay with Declan as long as you need to,” Matilde added. “Houses are expensive there. Everyone wants to look as prosperous as possible. House hunting for just the right property can take months.”

Esme nodded, the picture of the town becoming clearer in her mind.

But months? Just to find a suitable place to live?

Ridiculously.

Even the idea of hunting for a house seemed ludicrous.

An image of tracking a great lumbering building through the forest flashed through her mind.

“And the outermost ring is craftsmen and workers. Basically, the people who actually make everything run.”

“It seems,” Esme paused searching for the right word, “very regulated.”

Adena snorted. “Regulated is a polite way to put it. I think they’re frozen stiff with their own rules, hidebound with tradition until they can’t see what’s in front of their own faces. One of these days the outer ring will decide they don’t need to live there at all. And then where will the Council be?”

A beep from the wall sounded, and a section slid away, revealing a shelf of various items.

A small mirror and comb, a set of dishes, several wooden chests, and folded stacks of cloth.

Adena shook one piece of clothing out and Matilde eyed it critically. “How can you tell if it’s a tunic for Gavin, or a tent for Esme?”

A laugh bubbled out of Esme. “As long as it isn’t a gown for me, I don’t care. Putting up with townswomen’s clothing is one thing, but I’d be swimming in that!”

“I found it!” Rhela burst into the room, a book held open to her chest, a giant dog at her heels.

Esme raised her eyebrows, started to stand. “Should I have been introducing myself to this one, too?”

Adena laughed. “Thankfully, Xandros is exactly what he looks like. A large, mostly well behaved puppy. About the only thing here that won’t talk back to you.”

“Oh,” Rhela said, wide eyes knowing. “You met Coracle. I was wondering why he wasn’t with Xandros.

Rhela sat down next to Esme, carefully placing the book open on the floor between them.

“This is the spot I was looking for,” she said, finger lightly running down the margin of the page. “I can’t read it all yet, not in the book itself, but Kennet translated it all for me, and has been helping me learn. I’d hoped there might be a drawing, but no such luck.”

Esme examined the page, the strange spiky lettering cramped together into tight lines, nothing to show why it might be important, or even interesting.

“This is where my father talks about meeting my mother,” Rhela explained as she plucked one of the blooms that had begun to fade from the plant.

“That’s very sweet,” Esme replied, wondering if perhaps she should’ve stuck with the talking cat. “But I’m not sure how it helps.”

“That’s because I didn’t put it in the right order,” Rhela sighed. “My father worked in the Archives in the capital. My mother was assigned as his assistant, but well,” she blushed. “It turned into something else.”

Rhela turned the page. “Late at night she would sneak through some sort of hidden passage to meet with him in the Archives,” she said. “I’ve been going over the translation for any other hints, but if there’s a secret passage to the Archives, what if there’s more throughout the rest of the capital?”

The only sound in the room was the faint hum from the wall as the four women pondered the possibilities.

“That is interesting. And possibly useful,” Matilde said.

“People who are kidnapping children would want a way to keep their activities out of the public eye,” Esme looked around, each grim face a reflection of her own feelings. “They’d find a secret passage useful, too.”

9

Two hours after sunrise the next morning and Gavin knew he already hated this plan.

“Why is there so much traffic on the road this early?” he muttered.

“The monthly market day in Raccelton is later this week,” Declan explained from where he guided the team of horses pulling the wagon.

Esme sat rigid beside him, hands folded in her lap.

Gavin could see the whiteness in her knuckles as she clenched and unclenched