Starcrossed by Elizabeth C. Bunce Read Free Book Online

I’d like to remind you who owns that boat you’ve been cruising about in. Who owns that wine you reek of.”
    “You do, milord,” Raffin said miserably.
    “And then who?”
    His head bowed, he spat out the word. “Stolo.”
    “That’s right. Your brother. And
if
you don’t manage to get every harbor brat between here and Yeris Volbann with child before you come of age, you miserable waste, then there
might
be something left over for you. But until then, you will not treat my property as if the city is your own personal plea sure garden.”
    “But, Father —”
    “You will address me in public as Lord Taradyce. Do you need another reminder?”
    Raffin swayed on his feet. He was still a little drunk, and I hadn’t seen him eat anything all day. It would put the cap on his humiliation if he were to spew his gorge right here at his father’s feet.
    Durrel put a hand on Raffin’s arm, but his friend would not look at him. Durrel stepped forward smoothly and cleared his throat.
    “My lord Taradyce,” he said, and the note of iron was back in his voice. “You and your son are guests in my father’s home, and I must insist you show your fellow guests the same courtesy the Decath have always offered you.”
    After a frozen moment when all the color drained away from Raffin’s face, Lord Taradyce roared with laughter. Seated again, he turned to Lord Decath. “Now there,” he said loudly, “is a son a man could be proud of.”
    Raffin turned on his heel and ran out of the room.
    Lord Taradyce gave a disgusted sigh and threw his napkin on the table. Decath leaned toward him and murmured something, and a moment later, Taradyce rose and gave the merest hint of a bow to the Decath. “Lord Ragn, Lady Amalle, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have some property to reclaim. I shall see you both back in the city.”
    “Indeed.” Lord Decath’s voice was a low, bemused murmur as he watched Lord Taradyce cross the stone floor with clipped, purposeful strides. He turned back to us when Taradyce had gone. “Well, now that that’s settled, it appears my son has a tale to tell us. If my understanding of the situation is correct, when you left home, your female companions numbered two. And now I see a third in your party. Step forward, girl.”
    Durrel stepped aside, and Phandre gave me a brief push forward. I stumbled toward the high table, and leveraged it into a curtsy at the last moment.
    “Explain.”
    Did he mean me?
    “I don’t care
who
,” Lord Decath prompted. “You, girl — look at me.”
    With a thin breath inward, I tilted my head up into the light, just enough for Decath to make me out. Taradyce might be gone, but that didn’t mean I was safe.
    “My lord, we, uh —” Durrel gave a chuckle. “Picked up a stray. Please welcome Celyn Contrare, gentlewoman of Gerse.”
    Lord Decath’s mouth quirked. “I see. You know if you feed them, they’ll never leave.”
    “Ah, too late then, I’m afraid. Morva had soup.”
    “Well, then, Celyn Contrare, it looks like you’re ours for keeps. No, no — don’t slink away, girl. Give some accounting for yourself, and pray Tiboran made you a more entertaining storyteller than my son. And perhaps we won’t make you sleep in the scullery with the rats.”
    “I’ve slept with rats before, milord.” Which didn’t sound
at all
like I’d intended.
    Beside me, Phandre stifled a snort, and the woman at Lord Durrel’s left said, “How charming. Lord Durrel, your little friends grow more and more amusing every day. But she blushes very prettily, so we may just forgive her.”
    Lord Decath’s eyebrows had quirked upward. “I see,” he said. “And just where did my son find you?”
    I glanced around, taking in the stage for my second per for mance as jeweler’s daughter Celyn Contrare. “Outside the Celystra, milord. I — escaped.”
    Lord Decath glanced between me and Durrel, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Indeed? A runaway nun.