Ritual of Proof Read online

  RITUAL OF PROOF

  By

  Dara Joy

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nouveau Regency Glossary

  For Cabbycat,

  MY ANGEL

  MY THREAD

  MY LITTLE HEARTBEAT

  AGAINST THE DARKNESS

  MY LITTLE SMILE

  IN THE STORM

  AS THE RAIN BEATS US DOWN

  AND YOU HUDDLE WITH ME

  BECAUSE YOU BELONG

  AND WOULD BE LOST ELSEWHERE

  WARM IN A COLD DOORWAY

  TOGETHER WARM

  TEARS WARM

  LAUGHTER WARM

  TOUCH LIKE TEARS

  HOLD ME

  I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER

  I WILL.

  We don't see things as they are. We see them as we are.

  —Anais Nin

  * * *

  The shadow moved with precision.

  Controlled savagery guided the ruthless sequence of forms, creating a heroic abstraction across paving stone.

  Hushed movements in low predawn light mimicked the rustle of wind.

  With a deadly snap, a weapon echoed through the trees. Expertly slung, its fatal trajectory gathered speed and momentum. If not controlled precisely, such a weapon was as dangerous to its wielder as it was to its potential target.

  Corded ropes arced and spun out, passing within a hairbreadth of the shadow. Like lovers, they moved together as the first rays of day crested the horizon.

  The perimeter rustled, sighing to the same pulse-beat. Flora quivered with expectation as dawn approached.

  The shadow, the master, the environment—

  The weapon.

  Over and over the rite went, building into a dance of lethal beauty.

  Until all seamed into one.

  Whereupon, shadow outlined the heart of day and day ignited the heart of shadow with fire...

  Prologue

  Complexity had taken a seat at her table.

  She did not want to go to the soiree this evening.

  The trip from her properties on the southernmost tip of the continent had been long and fraught with one disaster after another. She wondered how many of those incidents had been accidents.

  Luck had been with her.

  Luck and the skill of her protectors—fierce women, highly trained in the art of defense.

  Green Tamryn sighed; her auburn hair shifted about her shoulders, framing her face. Claudine D'anbere had ever been a thorn in her side. From the time they were children, the woman cultivated an unnatural jealousy of Green. Throughout the years, she had constantly sought to undermine, steal, disrupt, and annoy.

  Green supposed it went back to their tutoring days. They had been schooled together as learning partners. Whereas Green was a quick and curious student, earning the affection of their teacher, Avatar, Claudine had been slower to learn, constantly picking fights with their poor, beleaguered instructor, a woman from the southern tribes who eked a living for herself through her teaching skills.

  Claudine had ruined that for the woman.

  Constantly causing trouble, she had aligned a group of the problem girls against both Green and Avatar. Even though Green possessed an extremely sweet nature, she had within her an enormous core of inner strength. Claudine had never been able to get the better of her.

  Which drove the other girl mad.

  As they grew older, it only got worse. Claudine constantly opposed her in the House of She-Lords; she tried to woo her friends away; and, she actively pursued any man in whom Green had shown the slightest interest.

  She had even approached Green's pleasurer, River. He had the good sense to turn her down flat, recognizing that she was simply out to use him and discard him.

  Of course, River was under Green's exclusive protection.

  There had been too many mysterious mishaps on the journey home!

  Not to mention the appalling condition of her southern estates. The new caretaker had let the place run to seed. The fields were overrun by jakakoos—nasty little beasts—and the house was almost in ruin, with many of its treasures plundered. The crops were almost destroyed and could barely be harvested. They ended up having to burn several fields and replant, which set her back at least five seasons in profits.

  Altogether, it had taken her almost two seasons to straighten out that tangled mess. With only the briefest of interim trips back to Capitol Town to take care of her main businesses, her social life had been pared down to sporadic visits with friends and River.

  Every time she left, the pleasurer had begged her to take him with her but she had refused. The wild South Land was no place for a man who was used to sleeping on the luxury of spun Ramagi silk sheets.

  She rubbed the back of her neck.

  Now her southern lands were back in good condition, the estate cared for by an able midwoman. So she had returned once more to her life here.

  Green had no doubt that Claudine D'anbere was behind every disaster. The She-Count was making a bid for her southern property. It had been a very close battle to stay afloat; Green had been almost forced to sell. It had not helped when an anonymous offer had been placed with her main crop creditor just when the figures were at their worst. Fortunately, the creditor had faith in her and her family name.

  Idly, Green picked up the scented invitation, which was hand scrolled on the finest jinto leaf parchment. It would be her first soiree in almost two seasons. She wondered what the new "come-outs" would look like this year. Eager, fresh-faced young men, nervous and excited, carefully aiming to snag the best title while leading all on a merry chase.

  She shook her head, smiling slightly.

  Thank sense and sensibility that she had removed herself from that tedious nonsense! Still, it would be important to make an appearance as she reentered society. Besides, Claudine was sure to be there and Green wouldn't let herself miss the look of horrified shock on the She-Count's face when she realized that Green was back and still holding on to her southern properties.

  She arched her back, trying to work out a kink.

  "You've worked too hard! You need a rest—a real rest." An elderly woman bustled into the room with a tray of jinto tea. Placing the tray on the sideboard, she came up behind Green. Brusquely slapping her hands away, she massaged the younger woman's lower back.

  "Thank you. Avatar."

  "Hmmmph!" the gruff woman replied. "You should have a name-bearer to do this for you."

  Green's lips turned up in a soft smile at the familiar gibe. "And why would I want all that grief when you do it so well?"

  Avatar harrumphed and chuckled at the same time. The elderly woman treated her more like a daughter than a She-Lord. Back when Claudine had succeeded in having Avatar removed from her post, Green had rescued the woman from sure poverty by bringing her into her own household. Another thing Claudine hated her for...

  "I was speaking to Duchene Reynard's kitchenkeeper today, down at the town center—"

  "You see quite a lot of him, don't you?" Green teased.

  Avatar blustered. "He was on his way to the marketplace, and I to the library. It is only natural that we should meet on occasion."

  "Yes, especially at the crack of dawn when he does the household shopping for
the day."

  Avatar put her hands on her sturdy hips. "Do you want to hear what he said or not?"

  "Do I have a choice?" Two dimples curved her cheeks.

  "No, so listen up. Seems he overheard the Duchene having quite a row with that wild grandson of hers. She wanted him to attend the soiree this evening and he was having none of it."

  Jorlan Reynard. Green smiled in fond remembrance of the Duchene's handsome, strong-willed grandson. On several occasions, as a mischievous youth, he had caused havoc at the poor Duchene's social gatherings. One time, he had come into the solar, strutted over to She-Count D'anbere and kicked her soundly in the shin. Everyone was appalled except Green. Having just reached her majority, she found the antics of childhood not that far from her memory. Besides, she would have liked to have done the very same thing. She had laughed long and hard.

  Until she found out that he had seen Claudine abuse her mount. He had reacted from emotion without thought for the consequences. Word had it, as a child, he had grown up much the same—letting his passionate heart rule his choices.

  He had been punished that eve.

  Later, Green had found him sniffling pitifully on a high limb of a Dreamtree. He had tried to hide his tears from her, bravely wiping his face with the back of his sleeve and sticking his chin defiantly in the air.

  He was unforgettable. The beautiful dark-haired boy was a strange combination of youth and maturity, even at so young an age. She had told him that it was not a bad thing to have such heated opinions, but one needed to know the most opportune time to vent them. In this way he could create the effect he wanted while maintaining control of himself and the situation.

  He had blinked those incredible aqua eyes of his and thought carefully about what she was saying.

  Then he surprised her by telling her she was very knowledgeable and wondered if she would take him for a name-bearer when he grew up. He told her he would like that because she was so smart.

  She had laughed again, shook a finger at him, then cautioned him to crawl inside the window to his bedroom before the screech wings came out to feed.

  His eyes widened and he scrambled quickly back indoors.

  In the ensuing years, he had been much talked about by the Top Slice. In fact, the enigmatic fil-Duchene was a favorite subject for their gossip. It was said he was aloof and difficult, yet charming when he wanted to be.

  And sinfully handsome.

  There was not a damselle in the Select Quarter that didn't think of offering a bed price for him. Some new-breeds claimed he walked on the edge of propriety, although that was strictly rumor and probably wishful thinking on their part. Green could only surmise that, over the years, Jorlan had learned to guard himself well.

  "Jorlan... " Green mused out loud, wondering what he actually was like now.

  "No other," said Avatar. "The word is that he is quite the handful! The Duchene has gone completely white from dealing with him."

  "Come now—the Duchene has been whiting her hair for ages."

  "Nevertheless! He's a difficult one, that's for sure. Will give some poor woman a run for her time with the trouble he causes."

  "Some trouble is worth the effort. Avatar." Green arched into the wonderful therapeutic pressure, and sighed.

  "You've been working too hard and long these past two years, Marquelle. You need a rest."

  "I agree. I intend to stay here in residence at Tamryn House, for the most part, from now on. Now that the crisis in the South Land is past, I am looking forward to resuming a normal Town schedule again."

  "I, as well. Traveling back and forth to that forsaken land every few months has not been easy on these old bones."

  Green tried not to laugh. Despite her age, Avatar was a stalwart woman, well equipped and often eager to handle the hardships of the road. But she agreed with her. It was going to be nice to take trips only by choice or for pleasure.

  That is, as long as Claudine stayed clear of her property.

  "Perhaps now would be a good time for you to settle down?" Avatar slyly insinuated, bringing up a favorite topic of hers. "After all, you are the last of the Tamryns. Be a fine shame to end such a noble line simply for the lack of trying."

  "Lack of trying?" Green grinned, knowing exactly what the woman was doing. "Surely not for lack of trying?" She teased the straitlaced servant who was more like a devoted family member.

  "None of that now." She waved her hand through the air as if to dispel what she considered "cit ways." Avatar had been raised in the country and had never lost her colloquialism. Kept pleasurers did not sit well with her.

  Green snickered, shaking her head. She loved to tease people who begged for the privilege. Avatar's austere ways and tendency to take everything at face value made her the perfect foil for lighthearted banter.

  "Perhaps I'll find someone to interest me at the soiree... " she began, innocently enough.

  Avatar's mouth dropped open. This was the first time Green had even hinted at doing such a thing. "I think that's an excellent idea!" she sputtered.

  Green blinked guilelessly into the mirastone in front of her. "Who knows? Maybe even that delightful... Jorlan?"

  A rough, squealing gasp of air sucked into the older woman's mouth. She clutched her heart. "Not that out-wolf Not in this house! Never, I say! What are you trying to do to me in my old age, kill me off sooner? Forget what I said about taking a name-bearer; you have plenty of time!"

  Grinning, Green shook her finger at hen "Always be careful what you wish for, Avatar."

  The old woman harrumphed.

  Chapter One

  Marquelle Tamryn was a rare danger.

  Jorlan Reynard's eyes narrowed with a concealing sweep of jet lashes as he keenly scrutinized the woman. The protective strategy shaded his high cheekbones. His strong viewpoints and resolute self-discipline had always warred with this taste for risk.

  The dichotomous brew was an indication of his complex character. Yet the exclusive traits that comprised his enigmatical nature were often overlooked in light of his breathtaking appearance.

  And if not overlooked, surely forgiven.

  Stunning beauty was always pardoned.

  As the woman made her way through the throng, many of the guests leaned toward her—reminding him of sycophantic sunpods swaying in the hope of capturing a succulent morsel of moisture.

  Of course, the Top Slice always reminded him of sycophantic sunpods.

  Especially in the presence of someone who was of primary port.

  He exhaled. He hadn't wanted to come tonight. He despised these organized galas of the Season where the Top Slice paraded their eligibles in the hope of garnering the "catch." It sickened him. He had no interest whatsoever in settling down. Ever.

  Before he had left for the soiree, he had gone out onto his balcony. A multicolored blanock had landed on the edge of the railing. Its exotic plumage proclaimed it the male.

  But of course, he thought. Even blanocks were forced to show their array! Blame it on the Season. It's male-strutting time.

  He recalled that the blanock had gracefully lifted off the twisted railing, its wings flapping as it gained flight. Jorlan had watched its trail to freedom until it was out of sight. And a good deal longer.

  Then he had squared his shoulders and prepared himself for a long, tedious evening. On his way to the soiree, he had vowed that this would be his last Season. The last.

  His final cycle of galas.

  Then he would be free—

  Or as free as an unclaimed male was likely to get.

  She brushed by them all, laughing gaily, making quips, patting familiar arms, and winking at several of the men who vainly tried to hold her attention for more than a few moments. Normally such a display would repel him. It did repel him.

  He couldn't look away.

  Her presence had "activated" him. Completely. He had no explanation for it and he was a man who sought explanations.

  "She is captivating, isn't she? Quite the wo
man of the world. Do you think she'll dance with you?" His friend Lymax had observed where his attention was riveted. Lymax had to be surprised by his unusual interest. Jorlan had never been one to engage in the idle flirtation or pleasant frivolities expected at these gatherings.

  "What makes you think I would want that?" he responded dryly.

  Lymax snorted in disbelief. "Who wouldn't want to dance with her? And don't look at me like that—I've known you too long, Jorlan; although, truth to tell, I wouldn't claim to know you."

  Jorlan raised an eyebrow. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

  Lymax sighed. "You are my closest friend, Jorlan, and you have been an exemplary friend throughout the years—none better, I say. I have confided in you my entire life. You have aided me through my griefs and sorrows, laughed with me over the joys, never once failed to offer a supporting hand. What's more, you have never behaved like a nog-twist. In addition to that, on many an occasion, you have displayed a genuine concern over my welfare... "

  "Why do I feel there is an end point to this mack-mock that I am not going to like?"

  "It's no mack-mock!"

  Jorlan gave him a look.

  "Very well, perhaps a wee bit o' mack-mock." Lymax grinned up at him. "But there is a valid point to be made here. The two people that you have permitted yourself to care for—me and your grandmother—you would willingly face death for. Yet, this extraordinarily brave spirit has never truly taken the risk to give itself to anyone. Ever. Have you, Jorlan?"

  "What do you speak of?" he asked quietly, while continuing his observation of the woman.

  "You keep yourself to yourself. I have seen it within you since we were boys. Since you came to live with the Duchene. I think that was the start of it, although, over the years, your zeal for privacy has grown into its own strange passion."

  "Mmm... " he responded, distractedly.

  "What I have never understood is why you cut yourself off so from society. You know you are getting a reputation as dark matter."

  The corner of Jorlan's mouth lifted in amusement. "I am only inscrutable to those who cannot read me."

  Lymax rolled his eyes. "And what a wit!"