The Demons We See Page 9

  The carriage pulled away from the small lane where the inn was located and headed towards Cathedral Way.

  “It is very interesting, and it’s barbaric that a legitimate business cannot operate.”

  She considered this history. Would the lacemaking have caused her to be targeted? Why wouldn’t they have done it while she was in her shop, as opposed to in a roadside tavern? She mentally shook her head. There was a reason Mrs. Ansley was targeted. Of that, she was certain.

  Her heart began pounding hard at the memory of the previous night. Wanting to avoid reliving her experiences, she gave Rainier a little smirk. “Shall we resume our argument from last night? Sadly, you will not have a brawl to save you this time.”

  He snorted, but stayed silent.

  “Nothing from the good Captain?” Allegra chuckled. “Perhaps it’s just as well. Still, I am disappointed. Harassing anyone for being a mage goes against Cathedral law.”

  “Their actions, though wrong, are…” He cleared his throat. “Reflections of people’s faith.”

  “What complete and utter gutter rot,” Allegra blurted without thinking. She caught herself and snickered. “You said that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did, but I do believe some of it.”

  “Some of what?”

  “I do believe mages, as you call them, are dangerous. Yes, we all take advantage of the benefits of magic. I myself wear a protection amulet.” He pointed at the decorative brooch on his sash. “All of my buttons are enchanted with healing, enough to keep me alive until a surgeon can stitch me back up. The braids on the jacket are embroidered with warmth, to help protect me from the cold.” He sighed. “But you and I are educated. We understand how magic can assist our lives. Mrs. Ansley is a mage, and is running very successful businesses, and she does that in spite of her magic. However, it’s only natural that people would fear her.”

  She regretted the topic now. She didn’t think anyone should fear her for being a mage. Fear her power and influence, but not her ability to weave magic. As long as she didn’t hurt people, what harm was she doing by existing?

  Still, Rainier was only spouting what was said in the pulpit. She tried not to reduce her opinion of him. She failed a little in that endeavor. “What is your solution then?”

  “Continue to educate mages, just as the Cathedral is doing. Improving their lot will improve people’s general opinion of them.”

  Allegra thought back to the priest’s letter. “A commoner’s ability to scrawl their name on a piece of paper is hardly an education. I have tried, Captain, to improve education and have had my money repeatedly diverted to furnishings for gluttonous priests.”

  “Surely the Cathedral-run schools offer a decent education,” Rainier said.

  “Some do,” Allegra admitted. “Some are ran by people who genuinely care about education, who are intelligent enough to grasp that a girl who can do her sums can be hired in a shop, thereby earning a bit more money than scrubbing attic floors.” She mumbled, “Not to mention protect her health.” In a stronger voice she said, “But there are other children who are passed from school to school, as funding is never consistent, and too many end up in schools ran by those who cannot even read or write themselves.”

  Rainier frowned. “We do need to do more to stem that abuse.”

  Allegra nodded. “Yes, we do. If the child has magic, it’s possible they will end up in a country estate working on embroidery and knitting, helping create small items of protection and comfort for their masters. Those that do not have talent…well, the lucky ones also end up at those country estates where the food is decent and the water is clean. The worst end up with the elementals in a mine, where the elementals can just kill themselves in a fit of desperation. A normal would have less opportunity.” Allegra ran her hand over the satin covering on her carriage’s wall. “So that the rest of us can live like queens.”

  He was silent for a moment before saying, “I believe there are lay sisters and brothers who make my talismans and whatnot. As far as I know, we don’t purchase from unknowns in the market.”

  Allegra didn’t look at him. She was too busy looking at her carriage interior. Where did all of her threads come from? What about her fabrics? Were they made by slaves? Were the people who worked on her carriages freemen? She never knowingly hired slave labor, but she also didn’t ask that many questions when she needed work done. Just drop the coins and go about her day.

  “Did I say something offensive?”

  She looked back at him and forced another smile. “Just thinking on your words. The spells in your uniform need to be weaved by someone who wants you safe and who believes in your mission. Otherwise…well…I wouldn’t want to stand in front of an arrow if I were you.”

  Rainier laughed. “I don’t plan to stand in front of any arrows wearing this.”

  “I wonder what you look like in plate.”

  “Uncomfortable,” Rainier said with bark of laughter. “There’s a painting of me at the palace. If you have time, I can show it to you.”

  “Why on earth is there a painting of you?”

  “Pero’s idea.”

  Comfortable silence settled between them, though Allegra did wonder why this particular captain deserved his own painting at the palace. Her desire for quiet won over her curiosity, and she enjoyed watching the scenery go by.

  It was a cloudy morning still, so the field workers had a reprieve from the sun’s punishment. They were out in full force, harvesting the grain. Then they would have to prepare the fields for the over-winter crop. Hopefully, it wouldn’t rain anytime soon. She knew none of these workers owned their land; her own tenant farmers didn’t own the land they toiled on for generations. She did wonder how many were treated fairly, however.

  How she could change this landscape if she were Arbiter. She could bring the princes and viscounts into line, as well as the parliaments and the empresses. All of them she could force to sit at a table until they saw reason. History would remember her in a way she had only ever dreamed. The mage who ended the slave rebellions and who freed her kind.

  Allegra knew what a dangerous path those thoughts could lead her on, but they were deliciously tempting. Rupert knew too well what he was about. Never in her life had she been offered such an opportunity to bring mages into safety and freedom.

  True freedom and not the patronizing half-life they were actually granted. Some cities huddled free mages into impoverished camps outside of their wealthy walls, where they had to receive permission from the camp guards to leave. And, if caught at the “proper” village without verification of their approved travel, they faced imprisonment.

  She’d fix that. She’d make it all illegal. She’d do everything within her power to extend the reach of religious rule and influence to force progress. She would use and abuse the Almighty’s name to get everything she…

  Rupert knew her too well.

  Desperate for a conversation beyond the temptations of her flattered ego, she asked, “Tell me, do you have an enchanted sword?”

  Rainier placed a hand on the sheathed weapon. “Yes. It was a gift.”

  “You are very lucky. What does it do?”

  It was his turn to look out the window. “Kill people.”

  His solemn tone sent shivers throughout her body. She regretted asking him the idle question, as it clearly hit upon some secret pain.

  “May I ask you a personal question, Contessa?”

  “You are welcome to ask, though there is never a guarantee I will answer.” She smiled to let him know she was teasing.

  “Why do you hate the faith? There are many versions and interpretations, so if you don’t like the popular one, there are other ways to express your beliefs.”

  Allegra considered not answering the question, but she felt the sting of his earlier comments. Perhaps he wanted to move away from his thoughts, too, just as she wished to not be alone with hers.

 
“Setting aside that I don’t believe in the Almighty, the fundamental reason why I could never belong to the faith is that they do nothing to stop slavery. The ownership of human beings disgusts me. We have conveniently glossed over the passages about the freedom of all under the Almighty’s watchful eye, and instead justify all manner of cruelty by saying mages were created by relations with a demon,” Allegra snarled. “One line by one Guardian and suddenly all is justified under a sentence that, I’m convinced, is taken out of context.”

  “What about demons?”

  “The only demon in this world a ten-year-old has ever faced is the beast who forces themselves on the innocent, not some mythological creature from the abyss that doesn’t even exist.” She drew in a breath. “I assume you believe.”

  Rainier cleared his throat. “I do believe in demons, though I admit I’ve never believed the theory that current mages have made a deal with them.”

  “How comforting,” Allegra said tonelessly. “I’m glad you don’t think I tumbled around in a grassy field with a beast from the pit to gain my talents.”

  Rainier’s jaw clenched, but that was the only reaction he gave. His voice remained steady and assured, not taking her bait. “I won’t apologize for my beliefs.”

  “I didn’t ask you to. You’re not the first man to think I mate with the creatures from the beyond.”

  Rainier shifted in his seat. “I do believe magic in all of its forms come from the abyss, but I’m sure these children aren’t sitting around cutting themselves and…well, doing unmentionable acts.”

  “Like fucking in the grass?” Allegra asked sweetly.

  Rainier burst into peals of laughter. “Yes, like that. Almighty protect me, I can’t believe you said that.”

  “Are you blushing?” She watched as his cheeks and nose turned darker. The more her smile broadened, the more his cheeks darkened. “You are absolutely blushing. Don’t deny it. It’s plain as day.”

  Rainier snickered, an embarrassed tinge to the sound. “That tongue of yours is wicked.”

  Allegra beamed at him. “I need to talk to Francois about how he’s describing me to strangers.”

  “Absolutely! I thought he was planning to appoint a woman of a certain age to this position to write a few letters over the winter and nothing else.” Rainier’s voice turned husky. “I wasn’t expecting a young, beautiful woman.” Then, with a smirk, he added, “And one with a filthy, wicked mouth.”

  “Only when least expected, my dear Captain. A lady must always know when to attack.”

  “Maybe that’s why Francois thinks you could bring a resolution to this growing conflict.”

  Allegra made a scene of musing on the statement. “Would my solution be peace or a full-scale war?”

  “Either would be progress.” Rainier shrugged.

  “That’s cynical.”

  “Blame it on being a fifth son. Peace means we can all stop fearing the worst. War would mean we could finally stop waiting for the worst to arrive.”

  Allegra smiled politely and became silent. And this was why she couldn’t indulge her ambition nor her ego. It was bad enough that she was a mage, though her rank afforded her endless privileges. One misstep, one accident, and she would be stripped of all her protection. She would be as friendless and helpless as Mrs. Ansley or the serving girl from the inn.

  It scared her more than anything, and she couldn’t tell him that. Almost no one truly understood the fear mages had. The very few who did and weren’t mages were the abolitionists active in the cause, and Captain Rainier was neither mage nor abolitionist.

  They filled the emptiness with picking at the leftover food from breakfast. Allegra’s heart grew weary. She kept thinking about the previous evening, about how scared she was. Rainier had been kind and his conversation had been a comfort. When she wasn’t talking to him, she kept thinking about what happened if she ever lost control. She had always tried to keep that out of her mind, but it was times like these that brought it all storming back.

  “You’re from Cumberland, aren’t you?” Allegra blurted, desperate to talk about anything other than what was floating in her mind.

  Rainier’s jaw clenched when he answered, “Yes.”

  “Rainier from Cumberland,” she said. “Rainier…I feel like I should recognize the name. Markus has a cousin named Rainier. Are you related to the Earl of Trenholm?”

  “No,” he said.

  “Are you certain we’ve never met before at a ball? I attended a few as a young girl in Cumberland.”

  “What were you doing in Cumberland? That’s a long way from Marsina.”

  “I was on tour with my cousin, and you are not going to change the subject,” Allegra said, grinning. “Now, will you tell me who you really are, or shall I continue to guess?”

  He sighed. “Do you really want to know?”

  “I know that we have two more days in this carriage together, so we either find something to talk about or we invite Dodd and Lex in here for company.”

  “Almighty spare us that fate,” he said. He let out a long, suffering sigh, and said, “You’ll find out when we reach the Cathedral. Some people know me as the Duke of Barrington.”

  Allegra’s internal temperature soared and her palms instantly became clammy. She squared her shoulders and adjusted her tone to befit speaking to a war hero and a man of superior rank. “Your Grace.”

  “Captain Rainier is fine.”

  “Your Grace, I had no idea,” Allegra continued, ignoring Rainier completely. She had been picking petty fights with one of the most heroic and beloved soldiers in all of Serna. She was going to repeatedly smack Rupert with her fan. She knew her old friend well enough that he would have asked the Duke to hide his identity from her, and she’d fallen for it.

  Damn them all to the abyss to languish!

  ****

  It was moments like these that Stanton wished there had been a polite way to reject the King of Cumberland’s gift of a title and lands. It had been nothing but trouble, and here was yet another fine example.

  For all of her faults—for she had many, though he was certain she’d never admit them—the Contessa was someone he enjoyed talking with during this journey, and he thought that, just maybe, they could one day become friends of a sort. She was passionate and entertaining, and he enjoyed having her think he was only her guard. Because, in her eyes, he was only her guard and not a peer from court. And he wanted it to stay that way.

  When he couldn’t take any more of her rebuking glare, he said, “You seem angry.”

  “I feel tricked.”

  “That was never my purpose.” He considered his words carefully. “I choose to live as Captain Rainier. I’m happy this way.”

  She wasn’t listening to him. He could see the cogs behind her dark, expressive eyes churning. “Captain Rainier…Rainier…Of course! We all know the name Captain Stanton Rainier! Oh, it makes sense now. You choose to go by your last name and not your given. Your Grace, you wound me with this deception.”

  He already knew her well enough to know that her last sentence was to rankle him. She had a talent for that.

  “Contessa, what does it even matter? You are only one rank below me, and you were born into your rank.” He snorted, and it was a bitter sound even to his own ears. “I had to be given mine.”

  She was still staring at him with that stunned expression that he’d seen on so many other faces. Only, hers did not show the potential for expanded wealth if she could convince him of a particular type of alliance, as most people did whenever they discovered the truth. Hers was of embarrassment and humiliation. And, in her voice, there was a touch of self-reproof that he didn’t like hearing.

  “You earned your rank, Your Grace. You saved the previous Holy Father, and Rupert, and the King of Cumberland! You! In singlehanded combat. You are a true hero and a true gentleman.”

  “That is a gross fabrication,” Stanton swiftly corrected.

>   Her mouth quirked. “Which part?”

  Instead of answering her question, he asked his own, in hopes of irking her. “You aren’t used to being told no, are you?”

  If she was at all annoyed, she didn’t show it. In fact, Stanton guessed she enjoyed being teased. “I was born the eldest daughter of a comte. I have never been told no in my life. Now, you can answer my question or I shall spend the next two days making wild accusations that will make your skin boil until you have to answer me.”

  He sighed. She really was vying for the title of the most frustrating woman created by the Almighty. He’d thought His Holiness was mad to offer the appointment to this backwater hermit, and he wasn’t too proud to admit how laughably wrong his assessment had been of the woman.

  The Contessa was not afraid of anything or anyone. He liked her all the more for it. That last thought crossed his mind as his eyes drifted down to the ruffled lace along her dress’s low neckline. He blinked and made a show of picking off invisible lint from his trousers.

  “Most of what you’ve heard is most likely a fabrication, or at least an exaggeration,” he said, covering up for the fact that he’d been staring at her décolletage.

  A terrifying thought crossed his mind. Perhaps Dodd was right and he really did need to get out to the taverns more. What a horrific thought.

  If she had noticed him staring, she made no attempt to let him know. “Hmm. Let’s see if I remember the story. Grand Duchess Katherine told me all about it.”

  Stanton groaned at the mention of the Contessa’s cousin and his arch nemesis, if a thirty-five-year-old man could have an arch nemesis. His discomfort only brought back the twinkle in her eye, and he smiled in spite of himself. The previous night’s brawl had obviously shaken her, and taken much out of her spirits. Though he’d never admit it to her, it did his heart good to see her true smile return. He could let her tease him for a bit if it meant helping her recover.