A Dance of Cloaks - By Dalglish, David Page 0,3
given a woman so fine.
Alyssa brushed a hand over her red hair cropped around her neck and interwoven with tight braids. Her fingers pulled aside her bangs and tucked them behind an ear. Her green eyes twinkled with mild amusement.
“Very much so,” she said in a husky voice. “Their women preen and prattle like they’ve never heard of a cock, and so the men oblige by never pulling it out to teach them otherwise.”
She snickered at her father’s blush. In truth, she had found many men eager for her bed, but he didn’t need to know that. She wanted him feeling awkward, not mortified.
“Must you use such…such…common language?” Maynard asked.
“You sent me to live with common women. Fosters and sitters whose entire wealth couldn’t buy the privilege to clean the…filth from my bottom.”
She winked at her father.
“I did so for your own safety,” Maynard said. He caught her nearing the windows and put himself in the way. When he opened his mouth to explain she pressed a finger against his lips and kissed his forehead.
Servants arrived informing them that the evening meal was ready. Maynard took his daughter’s hand and led her through the mansion to the extravagant dining room. Suits of armor lined the walls, holding erect lances decorated with silken flags of kings, nobles, and ancient members of the family. Over a hundred chairs waited at the giant table, their dark wood upholstered in purple. Decorating the top were twelve roses in ruby-encrusted vases.
Twenty servants stood ready although only the two Gemcrofts would eat first. Maynard took a seat at the head of the table as Alyssa sat to his left.
“Don’t worry about the food,” the older man said. “I have everything tasted.”
“You’re the worrier, not me,” Alyssa said.
Maynard thought she might have held her tongue if she had known four tasters had died over the past three years, including one only two days ago.
The first course was steamed mushrooms smothered with gravy. Servants flitted in and out of sight, always bustling, always hurrying. Alyssa closed her eyes and sighed as she bit into one of the mushrooms.
“You have your quirks, but at least you ensure quality meals,” she said. “The Pensley’s servants seemed to think a skinned cat a delicacy. Every other meal I spent the evening pulling hair out of my teeth.”
Maynard shuddered.
“They have always been fair when dealing with me, so I felt them a safe home for you. Besides, they had a daughter your age. Please, don’t jest about such crude things while we eat.”
“Their daughter spent too much time with her ankles around her neck to be of much entertainment for me,” Alyssa said. “But you’re right. We should talk business.”
The next course arrived, an unknown meat smothered with so much gravy, sauce, and seasonings that she could barely see it underneath. The smell made her mouth water.
“Business is exhausting,” Maynard said. “And in more ways than one. I would prefer we not discuss it while we relax.”
“You would prefer we not discuss it at all. You may have sent me away as a fool, but I’ve had plenty of time to learn. How many years has this embarrassing war with the thief guilds lasted?”
“Five years,” Maynard said, frowning. “Five long years. Don’t be bitter with me for sending you away. I just wanted you safe.”
“Safe?” Alyssa said. She put down her fork, her appetite lost. “Is that what you think? You wanted me out of your way, you always have. Easier to plot murder and money when your little girl isn’t underfoot.”
“I have missed you dearly,” Maynard insisted.
“You showed it poorly,” Alyssa said. She stood and pushed her plate away. “But enough of this. I am a Gemcroft, same as you, and this pathetic conflict shames both our names. Gutter vermin and lowborn cutthroats defeating the entire wealth and power of the Trifect?”
“I would hardly say we are being defeated.”
She laughed in his face.
“We control every gold and gem mine north of the Kingstrip. They have bastards and whoresons robbing caravans and peasant workers. Connington keeps Lord Sully and the rest of the Hillock in his pocket. They have lice and fleas in theirs. And what about Keenan? Half the boats on the Thulon Ocean are his, yet I worry his sea dogs will start thinking the boats under better protection in their hands instead of his.”
“You forget your place!” Maynard said. “It is true we have much more than they, but therein lies our danger. We pay a fortune for mercenaries