Under a Winter Sky - Jeffe Kennedy Page 0,150

on a mien so threatening, Emerence backed up a step. “Your door is open,” he said softly. “And a shadow moves inside your house.”

Alarm shot through her and she peered at her door. It was indeed open, partially. The shadows cast from the nearby street lamp had hidden that fact from her on first glance, but her companion had noticed. Her heart thumped painfully fast and hard in her chest. An intruder lurked in her parlor. Were they looking to steal from a house temporarily unoccupied or where they waiting for her to return? The second possibility made her shudder much harder than the first one did.

Gaeres shifted, and suddenly he gripped a wicked looking long knife in one hand. He silently motioned for her to stay where she was.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, a terrible suspicion that he meant to confront the intruder becoming reality right in front of her.

He ignored her question and sprinted across the street on silent feet before she could stop him. He angled away from her door, ending up two houses down before creeping toward her house. As lithe and fluid as any shadow he soon slipped through the doorway.

Emerence jumped at the sudden crash of something breakable, followed by a pained yelp, then a thump and finally a gravid hush. Her door banged open suddenly, slamming against the outside wall as Gaeres emerged, dragging a huddled form by the scruff across the cobbled walk before tossing it into the middle of the street.

The loud noises had alerted her neighbors. Lamplight flared pale yellow in several windows, including those in her father’s house. Gaeres bent to pick something up from the ground before stepping into the street. He nudged the intruder onto his back with the tip of his boot.

Emerence gasped, her fear turning to outrage when she saw the face of the person who’d violated the sanctity of her home. “Culkhen Goa, you bastard!”

“Emerence,” Linnet finally declared, rubbing the small of her back after giving one last swipe of her rag across the small hearth’s mantle. “The house is so clean now, if you scrub anything else, it will crumble to dust, including the stone.”

Her stepmother was right. Emerence’s reason told her it was so, yet she struggled to overcome the revulsion of knowing someone with malicious intent had been in here, touching her possessions, making himself at home in her house, sitting on her furniture as he waited for her to return. For the hundredth time her skin crawled at the thought.

Hours earlier, the small space had been crowded with the city’s constabulary, concerned neighbors, and her furious father demanding Culkhen’s head on a plate. Gaeres had stayed only long enough to recount the event and all pertinent details to her father. Culkhen had remained huddled in the street, surrounded by half the neighborhood who threatened to stone him if he tried to get up and run.

Gaeres had handed a nasty looking dagger to Tocqua. “He had this on him. Whether or not it’s something he always carries or if he brought it with him just for tonight, I can’t say.” His gaze settled on Emerence, sympathy gleaming in those black eyes. Anger too. “I can’t stay to speak with your constables,” he said. “My relatives are probably wondering where I am, but I can return tomorrow if needed.”

Tocqua took the knife, and for a moment Emerence wondered if he planned to use it on its owner. Instead he held out a hand and grasped Gaeres’s forearm in a forceful grip. “Thank you, Gaeres. Thank you for saving my daughter.”

Gaeres returned the clasp, his regard flickering briefly to Tocqua from Emerence. “It was my honor to do so, sir.” He let go and bowed low to her. “Madam Ipsan, I remain forever in your service.”

He left the small mob in the street. Emerence assured her father she’d be right back and chased after Gaeres. He paused when she called his name and turned.

“A thank you seems so inadequate,” she told him. “You’ve saved me twice now.”

Gaeres shook his head. “I defended you twice. There’s a difference.”

Oh, if only she were younger with different dreams and goals. Or if he were older, also with different dreams and goals. He possessed the charm of a courtier, but a charm wielded with sincerity and from the heart, its power so much greater than the practiced kind. Fifteen years earlier and Emerence’s knees would have melted. Instead, she remained steady and offered him an assurance.

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