A House Divided

Chapter 17

Cianne heard Kila's surprised intake of breath. She was more controlled, though her mind was a tumult, her emotions a wild roil. Was her father somehow caught up in all this? If Toran had been murdered, could Daerwyn have been involved? Cianne believed her father was capable of many things, but she had never imaged he might be capable of conspiring to murder someone.

No, you don't know anything for certain. You're reaching! You saw him going into a shop at night once and you're ready to convict him of murder? What kind of daughter are you?

The kind of daughter who was caught between a sense of obligation to be loyal to her House and the fear that her House might be involved in something dire. Attempting to write her feelings off, she told herself that she was itching to find something to throw back in her father's face, something she could use to prove to him and the rest of her House that they weren't superior to her and never would be, but it wasn't that simple. She wasn't above wishing for petty revenge, but this, whatever it was, went far beyond that. She had to follow this trail to its end, whatever that end might be.

"Miss Wyland," Kila began in a hesitant voice. "Are you certain of this?"

She appreciated his trying to give her an out, but she was so distraught that her voice was sharp as she responded. "Of course I am. Do you think I'd say such a thing if I weren't?"

He held his tongue, but she knew what he was thinking. It wouldn't be the first time she'd deceived him, and he was right to be wary. He couldn't trust her. For all he knew she might be spinning a web about him, trying to snare him in something meant to serve her own ends.

"I saw my father that night," she said, speaking more calmly. "I followed him to that shop, and I saw him enter. He tapped the door in a pattern, like a signal. That's what struck me as so odd about it. He could have been meeting with the shop owner to discuss House business, but if that were the case, why didn't he knock on the door in a normal manner? Why the code?"

Frowning, Kila stroked his chin. "Very well. It's an avenue worth pursuing."

"I know you don't trust me. You've no reason to trust me, but I swear to you that I wouldn't lie about this," Cianne said, meeting his eyes. "I want to know what happened with Toran. If he did commit suicide, I need to know why, when he gave every indication that he would never have even contemplated such an act. And if he didn't commit suicide..." She allowed her voice to trail off. It went without saying why she'd want to pursue the investigation in that case.

"Is there anyone in your House we might count on as an ally? Anyone you can trust?"

"No one," she said. Of that she was certain.

His eyes were full of pity, and she wanted to turn away. She'd always known he'd pitied her. Had she been in his place, she would likely have pitied herself as well.

She didn't want his pity. She didn't want anyone's pity.

"Not even Captain Stowley?" he asked.

"Not even him," she said firmly. "As insincere as you may find this, I believe you know more about me than he does."

He said nothing, studying her with a probing gaze that should have made her feel uncomfortable, but that instead made her feel something very different. He might not know her favorite color, might not know her favorite book, but he knew the real her in a way Lach never would, for all his good intentions. Lach had an idea of the Cianne he wanted to know, and he projected that image onto her, an image that made her fit neatly within the Staerleigh framework. Choosing between Cianne and the House was unthinkable. He needed to believe that the House cared about her as much as he did, and so he decided that the House cared about her, thus freeing himself from one day having to acknowledge that the House to which he belonged body and soul wasn't as benevolent as he was convinced it was. Whenever she protested, he brushed her off, determined to show her the error of her ways.