A Brother's Price Part 16

A cloud pa.s.sed in front of the sun, and he lowered the teacup as the shadow slid over him.

Summer came in quietly, avoiding his eyes.

"Where are they going?" Jerin put the cup down harder than he intended.

"Just out for a ride. Princess Rennsellaer thought they would enjoy a ride," Summer said too lightly, too quickly. "The tailors will be here shortly."

Summer was a terrible liar. Jerin wished, for once, she was better at it. Since she had obviously been instructed not to tell him, it would have been more comforting if he had been able to believe her.

The tailors arrived. While they pinned and poked, Summer stood at the window, looking out over the city. Shortly before lunch, there was an odd double clap of thunder.

"Is it going to rain?" the eldest tailor asked, frowning in concern at the window, where clouds raced on the wind.

Summer turned toward her, an odd expression on her face. "Perhaps."

"I hope not. Rain would ruin this fabric," the tailor muttered around a mouth of silver pins.

Thunder or cannons? Jerin stepped off the fitting stool and toward the window, only to be stabbed by a thousand tiny sharp p.r.i.c.kles as the tailor cried out in shrill dismay.

"No, no, no!" The tailor pushed him back, losing her mouth of pins. "Stay put! This fabric costs a fortune, so we must be right the first time."

"A fortune?" He froze in place, his voice breaking in nervousness. He lifted an arm draped with the flimsy, s.h.i.+mmering cobalt blue fabric. It was like being wrapped in cool air and nothing else.

"A crown a yard." She gathered up the dropped pins, tucking them between her lips again. "Now," she murmured, "stand still."

Summer paced for the rest of the fitting session, stopping often to look out over the city. When the tailors finished, she impatiently herded them out.

"What is it?" Finally free, Jerin hurried to the window. All of the city was laid out below them, running to the river, an endless jumble of buildings cut by streets seething with people. "Was it the cannons? What did you see?"

"Nothing," Summer said, pulling on her coat.

"Where are you going? What did you see?"

"Nothing, Jerin, just nothing. I'm going out. I'll be back shortly. You lock the door after me and let no one in, understand? No one."

"What do I do if someone tries to break in?"

"Ring for help." Summer opened the door.

"What if one of the Barneses is the one trying to break in?"

Summer stopped with a cry of anger and frustration. "Barnes isn't going to break in! They're the Queens' most trusted servants. Just lock the door and ring if there's trouble!"

Summer fled. Jerin threw the bolt with trembling hands and went back to stare down at the city. What had happened? What had Summer seen? He scanned the city, still unable to pick out what had set his sister racing out of the room. Frowning, he tried a more methodical search, slowly examining the city block by block, moving east to west. Time stopped as he pressed against the gla.s.s, searching without knowing what he looked for.

There was a slight noise from his sisters' bedroom. At first he ignored it; then, with a spike of cold fear, he realized he was supposed to be alone. He turned and saw a shadow, cast from his sisters' window, on the floor of the parlor-the outline of someone climbing through the window. He s.n.a.t.c.hed up the fireplace poker, hefting it high, and edged sideways toward the bellpull.

The path to the bellpull, however, took him in front of the bedroom door. He saw, for the first time, that it was a boy climbing through the window. Jerin froze, confused.

The boy looked about sixteen, with dirty blond hair and square, plain features. While cut from fine cloth, his light woolen kilt of green was gathered high about his waist with a horse-blanket pin. One knee bled slightly, while the other sported a scab from previous outings. He started at seeing Jerin, his green eyes going wide in surprise. "Oh! There you are! You gave me a start! Quick, hide me!"

Jerin considered. If a strange woman appeared in his quarters, he knew what to do: flee, fight, or shout for help. But what about a strange man? The boy seemed to lack any malice, and Jerin hadn't seen another man outside his family since the harvest fair. "Um, you can hide in-in my room."

The boy needed no further directions. He beamed a happy "Thanks!" and darted off to Jerin's bedroom. Jerin returned the poker to the fireplace and followed, still confused but now unalarmed.

"What are you running from?" Jerin asked.

"My sisters. Stupid rules. Complete and total boredom." The boy threw himself onto Jerin's bed. " 'Sit up straight. Smile. Don't sit with your legs open. Don't slouch. Don't talk. Don't think.' I'm bored, and lonely, and now I'm whining. Sorry."

"I don't mind," Jerin said. "I didn't know there was another man in the palace."

"We got in last night. The Queens invited us to stay. I think to give you someone to show you the ropes without getting your sisters' hackles raised. But, of course, every time I asked when we were going to meet, it's 'later,' and 'in good time' and 'when there's time.' All I have is time! I've been sitting sewing wedding linens all morning, with tiny invisible st.i.tches, and no one even offered for me yet."

"And vou are?"

"Cullen Moorland." A brilliant smile. "I'm the Queens' nephew."

Jerin considered what he knew of the royal family. "I didn't think the Queens had a brother."

Cullen laughed. "You don't know who I am? I'm hurt! But I forgive you, since you don't know better. My mothers are-were sisters to the Queens' consort, the princesses' father. We're old blood, very tah, tah and all that, but we didn't have much clout until the royal wedding brought us up in the world. Got anything to eat?"

"We could ring for tea," Jerin stated, and then marveled at how naturally it came to him, as if he always had tea delivered at the ring of a bellpull.

"Then they'll know I'm here."

"And you shouldn't be?"

"Oh, it's just that it's more fun them not knowing. It makes being here feel like I'm doing what I shouldn't be doing." Cullen took a deep breath. "The air even smells better when I decide where to be."

"You could stay in here when the tray comes."

Cullen flashed another brilliant smile. "You're a great guy! Ring away."

Jerin went back to the parlor and pulled the bell cord. A tap on the door announced a Barnes sister. Jerin unbarred the door and asked for a tea tray, adding that he felt very hungry, and that his sisters might return in time to join him, so could she make it a generous tray with at least four sets of cups? The Barnes youngest nodded, impa.s.sive as always. Was she totally unaware of Cullen, or was she humoring Jerin like a child?

When Jerin returned to his bedroom, he found Cullen kneeling beside the nightstand, jiggling the open drawer.

"This is the best suite in the palace." Cullen lifted out the drawer and set it on the bed. "We usually have it when we stay here. It put my sisters' noses out of joint to find you were put up here instead. I don't know why-we've had to give it up before. A case of speaking before thinking, to be sure."

Cullen reached into the empty drawer hole and fished out a bundle of papers. "My secret stash. Look at these."

Still kneeling beside the bed, he untied the bundle and spread seven tintypes out onto the bedspread.

Jerin looked at the pictures, then looked quickly away, blus.h.i.+ng. "Where did you get those?"

"Lylia gave them to me. Of course my sisters would have a fit if they knew she was corrupting me."

Jerrin frowned. He thought at first Lylia was one of Cullen's sisters, but now it didn't sound like it. Who else would have access to a n.o.ble male? A servant? "Who's Lylia?"

"Gosh, you are an innocent! My cousin, Her Royal Highness, Lylia." Cullen rooted two cigars out of his bundle and handed one to Jerin. "She doesn't see the point of keeping boys ignorant. Accident of birth does not make us less human or less intelligent. We've got a vow that whichever of us has s.e.x first, we'll tell the other everything. One time"-he dropped his voice to a whisper-"we practiced kissing." He shrugged, propping one elbow on the bed and resting his chin in the palm. "But it was like kissing your sister. Well, your own own sister. I'm sure kissing sister. I'm sure kissing your your sister wouldn't be the same." sister wouldn't be the same."

Kissing Lylia's sister certainly hadn't been the same. Jerin picked up one of the tintypes and found himself burning with embarra.s.sment. He had done the pictured act with Ren.

Cullen put a finger on the top of the picture and tipped it down so he could see. "I always wonder why you would want to put your mouth there."

Luckily, there was a knock on the door. Cullen dived down behind the bed. Jerin dashed toward the door, slammed to a stop halfway, ran back, and swept the pictures from the bed to snow down on Cullen. He ran back and jerked the door open. The Barnes sister stood with the tea cart.

It wasn't until Jerin barred the door after the Barnes had left that he realized that he had the cigar still in hand. He collapsed into the chair beside the cart, giggling. "You can come out."

Cullen peeked over the edge of the bed. "What are you laughing about?"

Jerin waved the cigar. "I forgot about this."

Cullen laughed and vanished behind the bed. "One last thing." He popped up holding a bottle. "Wine!"

"Lylia?"

Cullen nodded, breaking the seal. "A truer cousin is not to be found." He produced a cork puller and fumbled through the opening of the bottle. He made a show of splas.h.i.+ng wine into the dainty teacups. "A toast! To Lylia!"

"Lylia." Jerin picked up the cup and raised it high.

"And to our friends.h.i.+p, may our sisters allow it to prosper!"

The tea had come with sandwiches of roast turkey with spiced mustard, slices of chilled cuc.u.mber in a dill vinaigrette, and raspberry tarts.

They talked as they ate, sounding out each other. They compared sisters first. Cullen had far fewer in number, partly due to an outbreak of yellow fever. His father, a young brother-in-law, and five out of ten elder sisters died then. His middle sisters died in the same blast that killed the princesses. His youngest sisters ranged from late teens to early twenties, making Cullen the baby of the Moorland family.

"Actually, I was born after my father died," Cullen admitted. "My mothers married him in the olden days, when men were only thirteen when they wed, something they thank the G.o.ds about every chance they get, since he died so young. Personally, I'm glad I didn't have to act the blood stallion at thirteen. What?"

Jerin had bitten his tongue on the news that his Mother Elder would also bear a child after his father had died. It would be unlucky to talk about that before the baby was born. Cullen still looked at him, so he volunteered a different family secret. "I have three younger brothers."

Cullen's eyes went wide. "You're jos.h.i.+ng! Four boys?"

Jerin nodded, slightly embarra.s.sed by Cullen's impressed reaction. He, himself, had done nothing toward the feat except be born.

"What's it like." Cullen asked, "having other men in the house?"

Jerin had never considered this. "It's-nice. A lot of time, it's no different than having girls around. Well, at least with my little brothers, except everyone's more careful with them. I loved it when my father was alive. He had to shave his face with a razor every day, or he would grow whiskers. His voice was deep: when he was in another room, he rumbled like a distant storm. He was always patient, but he never talked to me like I was a child, like my elder sisters do. He would say, 'You're almost a full-grown man. You need to act like it.' He told me all sorts of stuff about being married, like how to make sure your wives aren't jealous of each other."

"How?" Cullen asked, his eyes bright with curiosity.

"Well, you never tell any of them that they're your favorite, even if they are. He said you should always try to act equally happy to be with any one of them, and to always stick to a service schedule, Eldest to youngest, without skipping anyone for any reason."

"Ugh. That doesn't sound like fun. What if that night's wife is sick?"

"Wait a day and sleep alone," Jerin said after a moment of recalling his father's advice. "Father was a youngest child, and his elder sisters married a man who was obvious in which wives he liked the most. It caused all sorts of fighting between the sisters. One sister even left to join the Sisters of Hera."

"Sounds like Keifer, only Keifer kept changing his mind."

Jerin's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Ren's dead husband. "What was he like?"

"Keifer? Oh, I hated him. He used to lie to me and make me cry. I was only nine or ten at the time. He told me that my you-know-what would fall off because I ate too many cookies. Then one day he smacked me, I forget why-actually, I'm not sure there was even a reason why-but we didn't come back to the palace again until after he was killed."

"Oh." Jerin fiddled with a raspberry tart, saddened that Ren had had such a terrible marriage. At least she was out of it, able to marry someone better for her and Odelia and the others.

Cullen chattered on. "I suppose, though, he wasn't any older than we are now. You know, I don't feel old enough to get married and father children."

"My father said you never feel old enough."

"Oh, rats."

The conversation drifted off onto other subjects. Neither one of them liked to sew, or had any interest in clothes. However, they shared a love of horses. Jerin made the mistake of complaining that his sister would let him ride only the older, gentler mares who rarely would do anything more than a easy canter.

"They let you ride! Good G.o.ds, Jerin, I would kill to be able to ride! My family won't let me near horses. I had some great-great-grandfart that got kicked in the head and died. Lylia will sneak me out to the stable, but even she won't let me do more than pet them over the stable wall."

There was a bang at the door, followed by Eldest calling, "Jerin? Jerin? Come open the door!"

Jerin jerked up in surprise, and then all the worry he felt earlier came flooding back, chased by guilt that he'd forgotten about his fears. He rushed the door, unbolted it, and flung it open without a thought about Cullen. His sisters stood waiting in the hall-Eldest and Corelle in strange ill-fitting clothes for some reason-safe and sound. With a cry of happiness, he hugged Eldest.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing happened," Eldest laughed, lifting him up in a bear hug and walking him back through the doors.

"Then what happened to your clothes?"

He had never seen Eldest blush before.

"You've been pinched!" Summer grinned at Eldest, using the cant word for "discovered" or "apprehended." Jerin wondered what he'd caught Eldest doing, and why it had been necessary for her and Corelle to change their clothes. Summer's smile faded as she spotted the table set with four cups and a host of dirty plates. "Jerin, who did you have tea with?"

Eldest came to attention, moving Jerin behind her as she put him down. "You're not alone?"

"Ummm." Jerin peered over Eldest's shoulder to discover the parlor was empty. "Cullen?"

For a moment, he thought maybe Cullen had climbed back out the window. Then Cullen peeked around the doorway of Jerin's bedroom. He had taken out the horse-blanket pin so his kilt fell to its proper length.

"This is Cullen Moorland," Jerin said.

"My cousin Cullen, who shouldn't be in guest quarters by himself," a female voice behind Eldest clarified. The voice belonged to a girl in her mid-teens, with hair the color of a new copper coin and a rash of sun-darkened freckles. "And I'm Princess Lylia." Lylia, the supplier of wine, cigars, and naughty pictures. She held out her hand to Eldest and they shook like equals. "I'm Cullen's escort, when I can catch up with him. I was hoping to find him here."

"I'm a boy, not a baby." Cullen pouted.

Eldest ignored the comment. She introduced herself, Corelle and Summer, and Jerin.

Lylia gave Jerin a long measuring look and smiled at what she saw. "A pleasure."

Cullen tsked tsked as Jerin blushed. "No, no, you tilt up your chin, raise one eyebrow calmly, and state, I know.'" as Jerin blushed. "No, no, you tilt up your chin, raise one eyebrow calmly, and state, I know.'"