Sacred Knight of the Veil by T C Southwell Read Free Book Online Page B

dared not. His cool remoteness, so prevalent throughout their relationship, was more marked than ever. He sipped the wine and gave her a measuring look that brought a hot flush to her cheeks and made her want to straighten her hair. Blade sighed and glanced away.
    Chiana quelled a strong urge to tell him how much she had missed him, knowing that it would mean nothing to him. She longed to pour out her feelings, even if they were rebuffed, but he already knew what she felt. He had not cared then, nor would he now.
    Instead, she said, "I thought I would never see you again."
    "Nor would you, if not for that damned messenger of yours. Too clever for his own good."
    Chiana bowed her head to hide the tears that burnt her eyes, determined to show no weakness. He hurt her without even thinking about it, and his offhand manner only made it worse. She moved to the table where he stood and poured herself a cup of wine, giving herself time to regain her poise, then turned to him with a brittle smile when she found him eyeing her.
    "I knew you would come."
    "Did you now? I doubt that, somehow."
    "I hoped and prayed."
    "That is more like it."
    Now that she stood close to him, she was surprised to find that he was not as tall as she remembered. Casting her mind back, she recalled that she had mostly seen him in the company of Minna-Satu, who was diminutive. He had stood half a head taller than Minna, but was only a few inches taller than his wife. In her memory he had grown in stature, but in reality he was a slender man of slightly less than medium height.
    Chiana's eyes drifted to the hand that held the goblet, his long fingers scarred by tiny white lines that were a legacy of dagger-throwing lessons in his youth. A shiver went through her as she remembered how Cotti torturers had mangled his hand on the day he should have died. No trace remained of the broken fingers, but his chest would still bear the scars of the burns they had inflicted. She wondered if he still limped, and glanced up to find him studying her, making her avert her eyes from his frigid gaze.
    "Have I grown old, while you have not?" she enquired.
    "You were very young before. Now we are on a par, I suppose."
    "Do you still find me pretty?"
    He frowned. "I do not recall ever telling you that, and if you are fishing for compliments you have found an empty pool."
    She winced at the rebuff. "You have stayed fit. Do you still dance?"
    "On occasion. I doubt that I could defeat Swift now."
    "I doubt that Swift can still dance."
    Blade smiled in his sweet, heartrending way, an expression that sent thrills through her, even though it did not reach his eyes. She remembered its power, and how he used it as a weapon rather than a reward. She turned away, shaken.
    "Would you like something to eat? My maids await in my bedchamber. I can send one to bring you a meal."
    "No." His gaze raked her dress. "Why do you dress in widow's weeds? I did not know I was dead."
    "They are not widow's weeds. I just see no reason to dress up."
    "No wonder they call you the Grey Virgin. Never have I seen such an ugly gown."
    "I am wed to a sacred Knight of the Veil, I must dress conservatively."
    "Do you want people to pity you?" He shook his head. "I must be the richest man in Jashimari, and my wife dresses like a damned pauper."
    Chiana raked his drab, worn outfit with a scathing glance. "And will you follow your own advice, My Lord?"
    "I do not have to. I am neither a woman nor the Regent, and what is more, I do not live in this god-awful palace. I thought women took pleasure in wearing expensive gowns and jewels?"
    "Only when there is someone to admire them." He raised a sceptical eyebrow, and she added, "Someone whose admiration they seek."
    "Ah." He smiled. "Well, here I am."
    "Had I known of your arrival, My Lord, I would have donned a more suitable gown for the occasion."
    Blade chuckled, revealing even white teeth in a rare grin. "Ah, Chiana, you play the dutiful wife so well."
    "Do I? It must