Guardian of Honor Read online

  And the man beside her was pale blue, the blue of a hot Colorado summer sky.

  Fumbling with her Power, Alexa tried to "see" into the past. There wasn't much there. The threads led into darkness in the past, yet she sensed that Bastien's Song had been kinked and uneven, and Ivrog's nearly flat and gray. Now they were both vibrant.

  She opened her eyes and the pastel colors of new spring in the garden around her were pale and uninspiring in comparison.

  Ivrog didn't stir beside her, but said, "Did you see your Song?"

  Alexa sat up straight. "Mine?"

  He chuckled. "You are a slow pattern of notes, very infrequent, but twining about Bastien's still. You and he have a bond. If I were to guess, I'd say it was a sex bond of very limited duration, but a strong connection forged between you all the same." He squeezed her fingers. "Do you want to 'see'?"

  Alexa pulled away. The Power had taken her warmth as a price for seeing the melody. She was cold now, all the way to her lips. "No."

  "It's not everyone who can see the melodies that bind us together. It's my special gift, one not valued much—not a very great gift. But I sense that you come from a people more visual."

  With TV and films that was true. "Yeah," she said. "I guess so."

  "Perhaps that's why I was given this gift. To help you. Now that you have 'seen' the melodies once, you will always be able to do so. Your mind has learned the skill. Will this benefit you?"

  She was pretty sure she'd be able to figure out the patterns and connections around her more easily now. "Yes. My thanks, Shieldmarshall Ivrog."

  "So I've repaid you for helping me," he said.

  She cleared her throat. "How?"

  He opened eyes that were the lightest she'd seen in Lladrana, an amber brown.

  "You came and changed Reynardus's song. Because of you he was forced to visit the Singer. And while he was in the Singer's Cloisters, he was away from me." A long sigh escaped him. "For the first time in decades, he was not so close, not there to carp or criticize. It gave me time to see myself for what I'd become and start changing. Then there's Bastien."

  Alexa stood up. "I don't think—"

  "We won't talk about your connection, if you don't want to, and I won't tell anyone of it. People could know if they looked or listened closely, but I doubt they will." He grinned. "Your melody is not of the world of Amee. Your Song does not flow the way we expect. It corkscrews."

  "Figures," Alexa muttered. "I suppose it's purple."

  Ivrog closed his eyes, frowned. "It changes color. You aren't of Lladrana yet."

  "Okay."

  "But back to Bastien. You mended his Song, smoothed his tangled thread. Something I don't think the rest of the family has realized either. He was in dire straits during a fight and reached for anyone who could help—unconsciously, I think. I gave him my energy. When all was done, his triumph blazed through me and it cured me. So simple. I have no more craving for drink."

  He unfolded himself from the stone bench, and as he stood, she saw for the first time that he was the tallest member of his family, taller than Reynardus.

  Ivrog placed a hand over his heart and bowed. "I will always be grateful."

  She flushed and rose to her feet.

  "Very beautiful," he said simply. "Your coloring."

  They stood in the lovely silent garden, looking at each other, and Alexa felt peace emanate from him.

  "I know everyone you meet tells you how much we need you, and the Marshalls expect you to find a way to revitalize our boundary. That was the Singer's prophecy, that you could keep the invading horrors out. But I would have you know that you have other gifts for touching and helping our people. You saved Farentha, the independent Chevalier. You mended Bastien, and by that, you helped me. Thank you."

  Tears rose to the back of her throat at his quiet tone. "You're very welcome."

  He nodded. "It is good we shared this time together. Now when you try to link with Reynardus, I know you better and can ease the bond."

  "My thanks to you," Alexa said, feeling uncomfortable. No one had thanked her for anything since she'd gotten here and she hadn't realized how much she'd needed validation from these people.

  Now that she had it from Ivrog, she wasn't quite sure how to handle the "you're welcome" gracefully. She gave him back a little bow. "Fare well," she said.

  His lips curved and he settled back onto the stone bench in the sun. "And you."

  The garden was noticeably cooler to her now, though Ivrog didn't seem affected. Probably since she'd spent energy "learning" her new skill visualizing the Song-bonds between people.

  As she left the little courtyard for Upper Ward, she realized that she'd had a magic lesson after all. Madame would be pleased.

  During the next few days, Alexa looked at the unattached male Chevaliers with new eyes, considering them as lovers.

  Since she was now very wealthy and of high status, and looked to remain that way, she was a good catch. Further, she was still an unpaired Marshall. The man who bonded with her would be sure to become a Marshall in his own right and might find the Testing process easier than others.

  There were several men who had asked her on a date—a couple of soldiers at the Castle, a couple of noblemen, and four or five Chevaliers. It was as if she were wearing a sign saying "I'm available." They seemed to sense she was looking around. For a fighting partner and a bed partner if nothing else. The one Alexa liked most was Faucon Creusse. So she accepted when he asked for a second date.

  Alexa met Faucon at the Nom de Nom. He escorted her to one of the back tables with the elegance of a nobleman deferring to a princess. She liked it, a lot. She liked him a lot. And the nobleman bit wasn't too far off the mark. Like many Chevaliers, he had a rank and a title and an estate, but she hadn't quite figured out the system. He seated her in the back booth of the tavern and took his place opposite her, facing the room. Now she knew it for the protective gesture it was and felt touched.

  When Faucon lifted a hand and a man with a superior air glided to them, she guessed Faucon was pretty high on the noble list. The servant carried a tea set. Alexa caught the fragrance of steeping tea and she nearly moaned. The tea she'd received from the Trade-master had been good, hearty stuff, but nothing special, and she'd used it all.

  She hoarded her small stash of teabags as if they were gold. She only had one Assam bag left, and the lowly emergency store brand bags were now treasures.

  The man set fine china cups and saucers before her and Faucon, and poured a stream of golden brown liquid into each. Alexa's nose twitched. Her mouth watered.

  "My valet, Broullard." Faucon gestured.

  Alexa hoped her mouth hadn't fallen open. Valet? Had he actually said the word? She repeated it. "Valet?"

  "Yes, quite estimable, and an excellent fighter too."

  An edge of Broullard's mouth lifted. He nodded to her, and she nodded back. Both Broullard and Faucon wore tailor-made flying leathers of the highest quality with shirt and trousers underneath of richly patterned silk.

  "Broullard will be overseeing our meal." Faucon smiled and a dimple flashed. "I had some delicacies flown in from my estate. Some foods I don't think you've sampled yet."

  Uh-oh. She sure hoped she didn't disgrace herself. So far thefood had been fine, something she hadn't thought much about, good and filling and tasty. But now she wondered how her stomach would take "delicacies."

  Broullard put a tile trivet on the table, acting as if it weren't scarred by generations of Chevaliers. He placed the teapot on the tile. "Hauteur." Broullard nodded. That was Faucon's title. "Marshall." Another nod. "I am needed in the kitchen." He glided away.

  When she'd agreed to a date with Faucon at the Nom de Nom she'd had no idea that it would be such a production. Live and learn. They sat in a pool of relative quiet, and no one seemed to be watching them. Alexa could only guess that in this time of war, a quiet social date was respected. Or maybe it was just that the Chevaliers were as eager for her to Pair
with someone as the Marshalls were.

  She'd worked with several males and females, including Faucon, but no Pairing had really clicked as a fighting team. She hadn't wanted to Pair with anyone and have them become her Sword or Shield.

  Everyone wondered about the Snap. If she Paired with someone, it was much more unlikely that when the Snap came, she'd let it take her away from Lladrana. Sinafin repeated to Alexa that the timing of the Snap was incalculable, individual to each Exotique, so Alexa had put it from her mind.

  "Alyeka." Faucon put his hand over hers and drew her back into the moment. "You must know that I find you very attractive. Fascinating and unique." His fingers stroked the back of her hand. His gaze sizzled with male interest.

  "Thank you." So being an Exotique could work the other way too. Some men would be turned on by her unusual looks and background. That was interesting.

  With Faucon covering her left hand with his, she used her right to pick up her tea and sip. The taste was so wonderful that she hadto keep from gulping it. How easily she'd gotten used to fine teas from around Earth.

  The habit of drinking tea had been both a declaration that she was an adult and her own person, and a statement that she was someone more than an orphan shuffled around in foster homes.

  She lifted her cup to him in a personal toast. "And thank you for the tea. It's exquisite."

  He flushed, squeezed her hand, and she wondered if he could answer some questions. Delicately she placed her cup in the saucer and smiled a guileless smile that she'd practiced for hours and had hoped to use on pompous attorneys and hostile witnesses. She'd been operating too much on instinct to use it her first days in Lladrana, and now Reynardus wouldn't buy it.

  "You must have heard that the Lord Marshall Reynardus and I occasionally are at odds." Big understatement. "Tell me what you know of the Vauxveaus."

  Faucon's glance sharpened. "The Lord Marshall has a wife and two sons. He is a difficult man to work with." He took enough time to pick his words. "I trained under him a season. He is more impatient with those who aren't his equal."

  When Faucon looked back at her, she saw a gleam of humor in his eyes. He shrugged. "And who of us is equal to a man of great Power who is one of the richest in Lladrana, of the highest rank, and has proved himself in battle for over forty years?"

  "Thealia Germain," Alexa said without hesitation.

  Faucon chuckled and lifted her fingers to his lips, brushed them with his mouth. "You fly in exalted company, my shere"

  She wished that gesture had lit a fire low inside her, but it hadn't. Maybe she was thinking too much and should go with the flow.

  At that moment Broullard herded a couple of flustered tavern maids to the table. One woman carried a towel-covered steamingdish. Broullard placed a large stone tile painted with orange and red flourishes on the table, set a thick, round wooden plate carved along the edge on the tile, then gestured to the maid to deposit her burden.

  Visibly nervous, the woman lifted the towel to reveal a large puff pastry.

  It smelled delicious, the golden brown crust looking ready to fall into flakes at a breath. So Alexa held hers and salivated.

  Wielding a huge, thin paddle-spatula, Broullard transferred the delicacy from a kitchen serving dish to the wooden platter. Not a flake fell to the table.

  The maid sighed in relief.

  Broullard directed the second woman to set the table for Faucon and Alexa. Cream-colored china edged in gold with Faucon's orange-and-red coat of arms, and heavy silverware was whisked in front of them.

  Alexa looked at the brash heraldry and glanced at Faucon, wondering how it felt to know you were always associated with certain colors and symbols. Well, she had a law degree, right? That meant she could put an Esq. after her name and her partnership had had a scale as a logo. Not so different. She caught a glimpse of the purple cloak embroidered with the big, strange flower. Yeah, way different.

  The valet now sliced the round pastry with a pie server. As the scent of crust brushed with powdered sugar and cinnamon rose, Alexa leaned forward. He placed a nearly melted piece of cheese dotted with nuts and covered in pastry on Alexa's plate, then did the same for Faucon. Broullard stepped back.

  Alexa couldn't wait. She nipped off the point with her fork and popped it into her mouth. An incredible mixture of tastes flowed over her tongue. Best of all was the cheese. She closed her eyes and savored.

  When she opened her lids, Faucon was watching her and smiling. His expression was the softest she'd ever seen on a Chevalier. Maybe her heart was melting a little like the cheese. She hoped so. This was a man she could really like and respect.

  He took a bigger bite and forked it into his mouth, let the taste linger on his tongue and then swallowed. He looked at Broullard and the maids. "Very well done, Broullard, Shemma and Dodu. Very well indeed. Thank you."

  The way he said it made Alexa think there were bonuses in the wait staff's futures. Oh yeah, this was a nice man.

  Too nice. She suppressed a sigh. He might be feeling the hots for her, but she found the dish more arousing than she found him. She'd work on it.

  With a hand, Faucon dismissed the servants.

  Alexa tried not to look like she was gorging. She took sips of her tea between bites and didn't hurry.

  "You like the sweetcheese?"

  He'd pronounced it "antremay." She rolled the word around in her head as she let the pastry slide down her throat. "Yes, I like it very much."

  His eyelids lowered. "I hope to always provide you with savories you like."

  She thought of them together on a bed and a trickle of desire stirred inside her, she was sure. "Perhaps," she said.

  After a couple of minutes of blissful eating, she went back to pumping Faucon for information.

  "Tell me..." She hesitated, picked up the teapot and poured herself another cup.

  His tongue flicked a bit of pastry into his mouth. "Anything, my shere."

  "Luthan Vauxveau..."

  His brows lowered. "Surely you aren't interested in him." Helooked at her, then relaxed back and took a bite of the sweetcheese. "I can't see it." He said it with the confidence of an observant man. "You spend time together, but not a great deal. You treat each other with respect but no passion."

  "There are some people... Luthan Vauxveau—" she drew in a relaxing breath "—and the late Marshall Defau Disparu." The man she had killed. "They react to me with an almost instinctive revulsion." She'd been plodding through histories about past Exotiques word by word. That phrase had appeared time and again, so she'd memorized it. "Most people stare and point. Gawk. Why?" Maybe she could get answers from a person instead of books.

  Faucon put his fork down and looked at her steadily. "I think it is a matter of Power. Some of us sense the utter difference of your thoughts and your Power and the life you came from. Things we will never understand, even if you sit and tell us about them all life long." He frowned as if displeased with his choice of words. Then he made a wide gesture. "Power is like a Song. It flows from us like melodies. Our melodies seem like simple human folk tunes, and your Power, your melody, like the call of a hawk to his mate before he kills."

  Appalled, Alexa stared at him, grappling with his words. "I don't feel human to you?"

  He frowned. "Yes, of course human, but completely different."

  Alexa thought of songs and singing. Thought of bird cries. And thought of whales and dolphins—they sang too, didn't they? It wasn't just noise, or calls, but communication and joyful pleasure. Hadn't she heard that somewhere? She knew she'd heard recordings of the sea mammals' songs. But they were a different species. Was she that strange to the Lladranans? Unknowable? Never knowable?

  "Alyeka." He took her silverware from her fingers, set it asideand grasped her hands in his own. "Others' reactions to you is not something you can control. Especially on a basic level. And I've seen you with Luthan. He acts like a friend toward you. Whatever his initial reaction, he has overcome it, or changed his min
d—"

  "Perhaps." She withdrew her hands. "But never enough that we could be lovers."

  Faucon's eyebrows raised. "Did you want that so much?"

  "No. Ttho!" Alexa picked up her fork and ate some more sweetcheese. It was delicious and that helped her get over the moment. She met Faucon's scrutiny. "I don't want to be lovers with Luthan, but it...hurts...to think that someone would literally cringe away from you in bed just because of what you are. Something in them could never wholly accept something in you."

  "And some of us are extremely attracted to the unique and wonderful, instinctively," Faucon said, with a smoldering look. "It is a matter of Power flow. Some people will never be compatible. Some people would never work with another once they have Paired."

  Chemistry. Magnetism. Or just plain Lladranan magic. She decided the Lladranans were just more aware of each other because of it. Another sense. Sensor. Yes, an added sensor that Lladranans used to measure each other.

  Luthan had been repulsed by her, but when he'd come to know the real her, had overcome his feelings to treat her like a friend. The man across from her was drawn to her just because she was an Exotique, not because he knew who she really was.

  The idea didn't appeal. But they could learn of each other in time. Wasn't that what they were doing right now, learning about each other? Just like any other couple on a date.

  Alexa smiled. "A matter of Power flow, you said. Perhaps you are right."

  "I'm not sure I like your habit of saying 'perhaps' around me."

  "Tell me about Luthan Vauxveau's Power flow."

  "Strong, powerful, focused. Like the man. He is a good man, perhaps the most honorable that I know." He grimaced a little. "Like his father, hard to live up to. Almost perfect, that one."

  "There's another Vauxveau." She'd finally worked the subject around to the one that had prodded at her for weeks. She didn't know what to think of that Vauxveau, that lover. So many stories, such a brief night.

  "Bastien Vauxveau." Faucon laughed. "We trained together for years. A good man in a crunch, but it has to be a crunch before he shows his true colors, sings the true Song. I don't presume to know him. Who knows what goes on in a black-and-white's head?" Faucon divvied up the last piece of sweetcheese and topped up their teacups. He shook his head. "Bastien, such a one! Often beyond brilliant and sometimes so stupid and gauche."