Luminous

118 - Seduction (2/3)

Morning was ending when four horses bore a carriage in charcoal gray onto the courtyard of the Dragon's Crossing. Jason had picked for Dad a walking stick carved of finest maple from his merchandise, still Mum must help Meya ease his groaning, grumpy self up the steps onto the black cushions. She then waved them on their way, looking as if it were on a voyage to far shores.

Meya had insisted she'd be fine on her own, of course, to which Dad growled he would go with, or no-one would go. Coris had probably convinced Dad of Graye's danger, affirmed his belief that Meya couldn't handle herself with such men. And Meya couldn't help but hate him as she watched Dad gritting his teeth, swallowing screams with every jolt of the wheels on cobblestones, for how unneeded his agony was.

A half-hour later, they arrived at Graye's residence-three sprawling stories of wattle and daub, sat on a foundation of stone, topped with a dozen red-roofed windows and turrets. Gray-clad servants cast a silver-trimmed gray carpet on their path across the courtyard towards Baron Graye. He stood waiting in his family's colors, his silky hair blazing white as fountain foam against stone in the sun.

He blinked at the sight of Dad stumbling down into Meya's receiving hands, but recovered his smile swiftly and strode up with open arms.

"Madam Hild, what an honor." He smiled at Meya, then turned to Dad, "and you must be her father."

"Mirram Hild, milord." Dad bowed, adding, "we are humble farmers of Crosset."

Dad bowed again, prompting Meya to curtsy in tandem. Graye nodded, his blue eyes like glass pierced by daylight, clear and empty.

"So I've heard." He motioned at his battalion of servants, two of which obligingly scurried to take Dad's cane and his arms from Meya, then extended an arm before him. "The sun is hot, let's hurry inside."

Meya allowed Dad and the servants to overtake her, taking the stone stairs one at a time as the two men heaved Dad up the steps. Dad was trembling, not out of pain but shame.

Baron Graye led them through the door and down a long gallery. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windowpanes onto the wall of silver-gray wood. In every charcoal-gray frame hung a painting-of unmelting ice walls in Icemeet, of winter fountains and winter forests, all peppered with silver dust.

Curious instruments lined the wall as she walked down the gray carpet-a giant hourglass, a music box, a cylinder with curved glass at one end Coris told her was used by seamen, a globe surrounded by a swinging cage of smaller balls, a clock with multiple faces populated by suns, moons and stars, a metal doll with gears and cogs for innards, an impressive pair of deer antlers, even a pillar of stone tall as Meya, hollowed out and lined with glittering white crystal-all plated in silver and shiny new, untouched. Calming yet extravagant.

They told her everything, yet nothing about their owner, except perhaps his love for his clan's color and his wealth. Coris's room was filled with books of runes, paintings of handsome hounds and bustling towns, reflecting who he was as a country boy who loves languages, dogs and travel. Who was Baron Graye, if she were to judge from his gallery? Musician? Seafarer? Hunter? Stargazer? Inventor? Alchemist? Explorer? All of them? Or none?

Grimthel Graye may appear to anyone as anything, because he isn't anything, whispered Coris in her head.

Once they reached the end of the room, Baron Graye flourished his hand at a set of black-cushioned silver chairs around a glass tea-table framed in silver curlicues, sitting in a pool of sunshine. A maid in gray stood nearby, toting a silver tray of silver-trimmed porcelain teapot and cups.

As she poured red tea into Dad's cup, the door behind them opened. A gray-clad manservant led in a woman draped head to toe in an oily violet veil. For a beat of her heart, Meya thought she was back in Jaise. In her hands, she held a solid black hexagon box with a slit or two in each face.

Graye seemed just as surprised by this interruption as Meya. Yet, he silently read the scroll she offered, then reached into his sleeve. In his palm lay two wooden plaques, one red and one black. As he fed the black plaque to the box, he unwittingly revealed its underside emblazoned with a silvery peacock. The woman retreated from the room without a word.

Realization dawned on Meya, then.

"Is that a vote, milord?"

Graye surfaced, eyebrows raised, paused in the act of straightening his sleeves.

"It is, indeed." He lowered his hands and turned to face her full, smiling tenderly. "Although I'm afraid I cannot elaborate further. Council business, you see."

His carriage, cadence and speech was unnervingly familiar. Between him and Coris, Meya couldn't discern who was the learner, who was the mentor. And what was the vote for? Couldn't have been the vote to remove Baron Hadrian from the council, could it? For he would've been called to gather in person for such an important decision.

As curiosity and a touch of foreboding beckoned, and she dithered whether to pry further, Dad cleared his throat and leaned forward.

"Milord, forgive mine being rude." The furrow between his eyebrows deepened as his eyes narrowed and the nerve pulsed in his temple, not meaning a word he said. "I dunno Graye's customs, but in Crosset, 'tis improper for a young maiden to enter a man's abode alone. And for a man to pursue business with her without her father knowing. Folks like to whisper of what goes behind closed doors and shuttered windows. I beg you forgive mine being here."

A wave of cold chilled Meya's cheeks as blood drained from them. She desperately tugged the back of Dad's shirt, but Baron Graye wasn't offended. He raised both hands, waving vigorously.

"Not at all, Farmer Hild. It is I who must apologize." He leaned in, hand on his heart, bowing and smiling hastily. "You see, I only met Meya and her mother last night, and we barely had time to speak when Coris jealously chased me away. In what little time I have, I only managed to track down where the Hadrians are lodging. Had I learned you are here, I would have sent the invitation to you. Still, Meya would attest I have not instructed her to come alone, and I'm glad you accompanied her, as I would have done for my daughters. I mean no disrespect to either of you."

His explanation seemed sound to Meya, but Dad merely narrowed his eyes tighter, leaned further.

"All that trouble to meet her in haste." Although his words were airy, his voice was anything but, and his eyes never strayed from Graye. "What use could this bumbling daughter of mine possibly be, to the mighty steward of Galwerth Pass?"

As the men locked eyes, a shadow shifted behind Graye's ocean-blue, probably realizing just as Coris did, this was not a man who could be swayed by honeyed words, impressed by luxury, nor cowed by power.

What he thought of the fact, she couldn't fathom, for just as quickly he smiled, calm and relaxed as always, and cocked his head in that manner infuriatingly reminiscent of Lord Hadrian,

"She could be my bride, the new Baroness Graye."