The way he paced beside the windows reminded Elia of a cat. Thea’s cat, specifically; the fat gray thing had been gone for years, but it had borne the same restless attitude when it wanted outside.
Cass paused now and then to peer out the windows, but he remained quiet, as if burdened by something. The impending snow, she thought. But he’d come here willingly, and that left something of a puzzle.
“You’ll wear a hole in the rug, pacing like that,” she said at last. She folded her hands on the arm of the couch and tilted her head when he looked at her.
He said nothing, but his feet grew still.
Part of her wondered if he’d be calmer if they were alone. A single guard had taken a position beside the door, and though he’d hardly stirred and hadn’t said a word, his presence was undeniable. Perhaps that was part of what left Cass feeling trapped.
It also made her hesitant to ask the questions brimming in the forefront of her mind, but she doubted there would be a better time. At least now, with the two of them settled in a parlor—or rather, she was settled—he couldn’t easily hustle them along to the next place or subject without giving her some answers.
She shifted on the couch and summoned her sweetest tone of voice. “I’ve been wondering something. I hoped you could answer before the servants draw my bath.”
Cass stopped and eyed her, very much like a cat indeed.
Elia tried to sound casual. “When we were at my home, you were eager to get on your way until my father suggested I might bring you to the palace. Then, you were eager to come here, but the moment you learned the king wasn’t present, you were anxious to depart again. Why is that?”
He faced the windows again. She fully expected a dismissive answer, something vague, like a comment on how the snow would hinder him. Instead, he sighed and slid a hand through the hair at the base of his skull. “I’ve seen something I shouldn’t. Something that’ll bring me trouble if I don’t resolve it soon. Vinson expects… well, I thought if the king would offer some kind of reward, he might…”
Peretor. Of course. “You hoped Gaius would help?”
“I don’t hope anything,” he grumbled. “I don’t know what sort of king he is.”
“Kinder than the stories would have you believe,” Elia said.
He frowned, unconvinced.
“Is that why you’re eager to get back out there? To look for Vinson’s nephew?” Inwardly, she chided herself. She’d found the way his intentions flopped suspicious, when the fact they’d left a larger problem unresolved should have been at the forefront of her mind. She’d always made it her goal to help people. Why hadn’t she been faster to think of the help Peretor still needed?
“To figure out what’s going on, at the very least,” he admitted. “I don’t think those were Kentorian men. Though I don’t know why anyone else would care to kidnap a sugarmaker.”
Elia agreed that still made little sense. Vinson was well off; not wealthy like her family, but he knew comfort in ways most never would. The only thing she’d been able to think of was that her friend might have landed himself in trouble with some unsavory lot.
Yet that didn’t seem like the Peretor she knew. He was a young man of good quality, and that was one of the reasons she got on with him so well.
“I can’t say I got the best look at them,” she said slowly, “but I do agree they looked more like…” She trailed off. Like what? Like him? Elia hadn’t paid it much mind until now, but she wouldn’t deny Cass lacked Kentorian coloration, himself. His skin was too coppery, and black hair was scarce in those without mixed blood. Most Kentorians were like herself, with copper tones in their hair instead of their skin.
“Not olive enough to be Ranorsh,” he said, ignoring what she’d accidentally implied. Or maybe he hadn’t caught it. “Most everyone else plays nice with Kentoria because they fear its military.”
“Relations with Ranor are better these days, too,” Elia said. “King Gaius counts one of their princes as a dear friend, and while communication over winter is always sparse, it sounds as if the Ranorsh king is willing to be amicable with us.”
Cass shook his head. “That doesn’t rule anyone out, though. Just because countries are willing to smile and shake hands when you face them doesn’t mean you won’t end up with a knife in your back.”
“That’s true, but it still doesn’t answer who they might have been. Unless you have guesses you aren’t sharing.” Part of her wanted to ask where he was from, but now was not the time. Nor did it matter, she supposed. People came from all over to work among Kentoria’s trees. Wherever he hailed from, Cass was not unusual.
“Disgruntled workers from a previous season? Maybe they were unhappy with their wages and thought holding a relative could bring a ransom?” Again, he threaded his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. I can’t think of anything. I haven’t been there long.”
But he cared, and the way he stewed on it was comforting, in a way. She’d been fortunate to cross paths with him. With someone who cared, despite what trouble it had brought him. “Gaius will help. I’m sure of it. If he’s not there for our dinner, then we’ll tell Thea everything we know, and she’ll make sure he hears about it.”
“Hearing about it and doing something about it are different things,” Cass said.
Elia couldn’t disagree. “But it’s the best we can hope to do. We don’t have the resources the king has at his disposal.”
“I have my sword,” he replied dryly. “That’s enough.”
The guard beside the door shifted. Elia thought he might be unsettled by the mention of a weapon. It was odd that no one had taken that sword from Cass, now that she thought about it. But all the guard did was turn to open the door and let in a maid. Had she knocked? Elia hadn’t heard.
The maid curtsied as she stepped inside. “Milady, your bath has been drawn. One for you, too, milord. If you’ll come with me, we’ll have you all cleaned up for the royal dinner in no time.”
For a moment, Elia regretted the interruption. Although the exchange was brief, it was the most open Cass had been with her. Walking away from it now that it had started felt like closing the door on new possibilities. A furrow creased the space between her brows, but when Cass met her eyes, there was none of the hardness she feared the interruption might restore.
“We’ll talk later.” His voice was gruff, but the words were gentle.
Elia nodded and pushed herself from the couch to follow the maid. She didn’t like the idea of splitting up, lest that divide put more space between them when discussion began anew, but at least one thing had been settled.
His desire to help Peretor was noble, and with that piece of information, she could breathe a little easier.
“I don’t understand,” Thea said as she reached for her goblet. “Vinson isn’t the wealthiest of our sugarmakers. Why target his family for a kidnapping?”
Elia hardly knew. Her best thinking always happened in the bath, but she’d turned up no more possibilities while the maids helped her wash. Then again, maybe their tutting over her hair and potential wardrobe had been a distraction.
Cass swirled his wine in his silver goblet, staring at it as if it might hold some solution.
Her fears had not been unfounded. Upon returning from ablutions, whatever openness had formed between them during their short conversation was gone. Again, he was solemn and silent, a man of few words and a standoffish demeanor. It was a frustration the likes of which she’d rarely seen. Elia was good with people. Her warm personality and eagerness to assist always won them over.
Cass seemed to be impervious to her charms. He remained the same sullen, frowning man he’d been from the moment he’d swept her off to his cabin in the snow.
Yet for all that he shut her out, she’d seen something else in the tiny moments where his icy exterior melted and cracked just enough for her to peek inside. He was stoic, but he was also determined. Somber, but steadfast. He bore a strength of spirit she rarely saw, and if he lacked outward warmth, she saw the fire of justice that burned within him.
That sense of justice was why she found herself befuddled now. He’d said little since they sat down, letting Elia explain the whole story of how they’d met and why she’d brought him to the palace. She’d expected him to take over at some point, to ask for the aid he claimed he wanted from the king. But now, at the perfect moment to implore Thea find a way to help, he remained silent and did nothing but nurse his wine. Elia couldn’t make sense of it. Help was what they needed. Hadn’t he meant to ask?
“I’m sorry,” Thea said after a moment. “I don’t mean to make it sound like I expect you to have the answer. It’s obvious enough you don’t.”
“I wish I did.” Not that Elia knew what she would do if she did have answers. Send her brother? Romaric was nearest to her in age, but he had a hot temper and a stubborn streak. He was unlikely to help. Ask her father? He had resources, but even he could not sway the guard. No; turning to Gaius was the only solution, and if Cass wouldn’t ask, then she would. “Can you help him? Surely Gaius could spare someone to help find what’s happened to Peretor.”
Cass glanced up as if awaiting the answer.
Thea mustered a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
It was less committal than what Elia had grown to expect from her cousin, disheartening in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She tried to smile back.
“Then I’ll leave you to that,” Cass said. He’d already finished his plate of food and pushed back his chair, meaning it quite literally.
Elia put out a hand to stop him. He froze at her touch and belatedly, she realized how brazen the action was. Too late now. She’d already done it, so she curled her fingers around his hand to keep him anchored in place. “You can’t possibly leave now.”
“She’s right.” Thea put down her drink. “No one can go anywhere in this weather.”
His head snapped up. “What?”
“Did you not see the snow when you were dressing? It’s as much a blizzard as it was yesterday. You can’t possibly mean to head back now. Not while injured.” Thea’s eyes drifted down to his side, though none of the bandaging was visible. The servants would have treated and rewrapped the injury after his bath, perhaps even offered more medicine, but he still had not been attended by a medic.
For a moment, he looked stricken. Then his face crumpled into a scowl and he sank back into his chair.
“The weather is what will prevent us from looking for your friend, I’m afraid,” Thea added with an apologetic nod. “We can’t very well send men out in this, no matter what Gaius says.”
The king could be reckless on his own, judging by the stories Thea had told, but Elia doubted he would risk his men.
“And what about us?” Elia asked. She doubted her father would be willing to host Cass overnight, but if they could find an inn with vacancy…
“The Captain of the Guard has elected to encourage everyone to stay where they are until the storm passes, and he’s unlikely to listen to objections from me. I’m afraid you’ll be staying put.”
Cass released a hissing breath. “So that’s it? We’re trapped here?”
“Until the storm abates,” Thea said, lacing her fingers together at the edge of the table.
Elia turned to offer a word of comfort, but found herself stopping instead.
They were stuck in the palace, trapped together again, and she still held his hand. None of those were enough to give her pause, but the palace servants had scrubbed them both clean.
He’d put her braids back in his hair.
