The woman shivered, her face became pale.
“Don’t talk about it,” said Caramon firmly.
“No, you’re right. I won’t.” Shavas lifted her head bravely. “And I have nothing to fear, have I? Not with you by my side!”
“I would die before I let any harm come to you. Lady Shavas.”
The councillor smiled again at the sincerity in the big man’s voice. Her hand grasped his, tightening around his strong fingers. “Thank you,” she said, “but I much prefer you alive!”
Desire flashed through Caramon. His blood burned. All thoughts of royal ladies vanished from his mind. She was a woman, and now he knew just what to do. He tried to pull Shavas near, but she suddenly snatched her hand away. Leaning back in the carriage, she glanced languidly out the window. Caramon, wrestling with his passion, thought it best to do the same.
The lights of the city shone as they always did— bright stars above the streets. The few people shuffling along the sidewalks of Mereklar tipped their hats and bowed as
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they passed. Caramon watched Shavas smile and nod to the citizens in turn. But he thought her smile seemed strained.
The coach turned left on another street and entered a large, open park surrounded by a fence of thick trees and hedges. At one end of the park stood a small building.
“Is this where we’re going?” Caramon asked, his heart pounding. The place seemed deserted.
“If you don’t like it, we can go elsewhere,” the councillor said coolly.
“Oh, no. This is … fine,” the warrior replied.
The carriage pulled alongside the building, and Caramon jumped down, holding out his hands. He lifted Shavas by her slim waist, pressing her warm body next to his as he lowered her to the ground. The black shawl fluttered like wings.
“Thank you, Caramon,” she said, lingering near him for an instant.
“Good evening. Councillor Shavas. I’m so very glad you have arrived on time,” someone said in a high voice.
Startled, Caramon whipped around. Behind him stood a thin man wearing a black coat. He was visibly nervous, casting his gaze up and down the street. “Are you sure you wish to have dinner here tonight, my lady? The servants refused to come after dark, and—”
“Thank you, Robere, this will be fine,” Shavas interrupted smoothly.
“Shall I show you the way, madame?” Robere asked, hands clasped together.
The councillor shook her head slightly and smiled. “No. I think we can find our own way.”
“Very good, madame,” Robere replied. Bowing again, he turned on his heel and left the travelers.
“Don’t wait,” Shavas told the carriage driver.
“When shall I return for you, my lady?”
Shavas glanced at Caramon from the corner of her
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eye. “Tomorrow morning,” she said softly.
Caramon thought the beating of his heart might suffocate him.
The two walked around the little building that he assumed, from the smell, was a kitchen. They came to what appeared to be an entrance into a park. The fighter’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. He saw a cloth spread on the ground, and he realized that they were going to dine outdoors. He glanced around uneasily. What a great place for an ambush. The memory of the corpse he had seen last night almost made him turn and run. Shavas slipped her hand through his arm, walking close beside him.
“This is one of my favorite places. It allows me to be a little more . . . relaxed . . . than I can be at home,” she whispered into Caramon’s ear, bringing her soft cheek next to his.
The area was prepared when they arrived. Robere added several black pillows, placing them into comfortable positions around the white spread. Two silver candlesticks stood in the middle, scented tapers burning with a warm light. Plates and trays held fresh fruits and warm meats. Two crystal glasses, filled with sparkling red wine, waited to be sipped.
Shavas led Caramon to the cloth. Letting go of his hand, she sank to the pillows opposite him, stretching her lithe body comfortably.
“Please, sit down,” she said, gracefully indicating a mound of cushions.