Cloak and Scalpel

ABERLEEN ARC: Letters and Curses

"You ought to eat, you know."

Lesley glanced up from the rifle she had been polishing. Gusion Paxley shut the door to her room with a dull thud, a covered plate of food in one hand. He was wearing a dull brown cloak, the hood drawn up to hide his face.

Apparently, Duke Paxley's idea of a cell was to provide her with a room in a lavish inn, coupled with exquisite meals. True to the duke's word, Gusion had stuck close to her for the past two days, occupying a room beside hers. He had been careful, she noted, to keep the hood of his cloak drawn up, as though he didn't want to attract attention. She had filed this nugget of information away to peruse later.

"Not hungry," she said as she continued polishing her rifle barrel.

"You've barely eaten since we got here," Gusion pointed out.

"You mean, I've barely eaten since I was imprisoned here," she snapped.

"Look," Gusion said, setting down the plate and throwing the hood of his cloak back. "You tried to snipe Diana. She may not be his real fiancée, but that doesn't mean Aamon wouldn't—"

"What?!"

Gusion's eyes widened in shock, and he swore loudly at himself. "What do you mean, she's not his real fiancée?" Lesley said slowly, raising an eyebrow at the younger Paxley.

"Aamon's going to kill me," Gusion said, running hand across his face in exasperation.

"They aren't really engaged?" Lesley pressed. "Is he engaged to someone else, then?"

"No, and it's not anyone else's business," Gusion said. "Do you remember how I saved your life from those snakes, back then? Do me a favor and keep this between us."

Lesley's lips pressed into a thin line. Duke Paxley's fake engagement would, indeed, be of great news to people who were looking for a chink in the Bloody Duke's armor. Duke Vance, for instance.

"I'll think about it," Lesley said as she returned to the task of polishing her rifle. "You really should be careful with your words. Weren't you taught that as a son of the most influential duchy in the Empire?"

"All that was Aamon's job," Gusion said. He paused, then sat on the bed beside Lesley. "I am serious. You owe me a life debt, and I'm calling it in."

Lesley's smirk was almost taunting. "A favor for a life debt, and you choose to use it to keep your brother's secrets? How noble of you, Gusion Paxley."

"Aamon isn't the only one willing to do everything for kin," Gusion said softly, eyes turning towards the window. Outside, he could see the Castle Aberleen silhouetted against the starry night sky, its many towers glimmering with lights.

"Fine," Lesley said. The sharpshooter set her rifle down and got up from the bed to open the covered dish on the table. "On one condition."

Gusion turned to her, eyebrows raised.

"Help me get out of Aberleen."

-----------

"I see you know your way around a needle and thread, Lady Diana."

I glanced up at Agnes and gave her a smile. "I have good hands," I said.

It was the third day of our lessons with Agnes. Despite Aamon's reassurances that there would be no embroidering, Agnes saw fit to hand Amy, Sitri, and I plain white handkerchiefs and hoops. After reviewing the basic stitches with us, Agnes had left us to our own devices.

I was embroidering a cream-colored rose into the handkerchief I had. Of course, suturing in the hospital and sewing in the drawing room were two entirely different things. But my hands had been long used to holding a needle and suture. Embroidering was just from a different perspective.