The Spymaster’s Prize: A Fantasy Romance Tale (Artisan Magic Book 2)
The Spymaster’s Prize: Chapter 8

Don’t look at his eyes.

Elia gripped her teacup so tight, her fingertips grew pale.

Don’t look at him at all.

Her ears grew as warm as the teacup she held, but she fixed her attention on her drink and willed herself not to move. What had possessed her to look at him that way? To think of him that way? She liked him, of course; despite the gruff way he spoke, she found him agreeable enough. And he’d gone out of his way to rescue her and see her back to Samara safely, too.

But she hardly knew him. By the Light, all she knew was his name and where he worked. She wasn’t even confident she could tell anyone where he lived, because she doubted she would ever replace his cabin in the woods on purpose. He was as near to a stranger as any random person on the streets. Why, then, had she thought of kissing him?

She supposed that was one way of thanking a rescuer, but she wasn’t like that. Oh, she’d kissed someone before, but certainly not a stranger. Not even a stranger who’d helped save her life, or one who had looked at her like…

Like…

“Are you all right?” Cass asked, words soft.

No, she certainly was not. “Yes,” she lied. “Just thinking of… of everything that’s happened.” There, that wasn’t too terribly untruthful. In fact, she’d argue it made perfect sense. They’d had plenty of quiet time at the cabin, as Cass hadn’t exactly proven himself to be a riveting conversationalist, but they’d been in the thick of things then. Now, she was home. Everything was over.

He appeared to understand, for he nodded. “As soon as I warm up, I’ll be out of your hair, and that’ll be that.”

She tried to smile, but couldn’t. Was that all he thought of the situation? That it would be over and done with, and then nothing more?

Wasn’t that what she should think of the situation? She could have kicked herself.

In the end, all she did was sip her tea and try to add something of value. “I enjoyed cooking for you.”

Both his brows rose.

“Elia, my darling!” her father’s voice boomed from the front door.

She spun in her seat as he appeared with her brother beside him. Before she could say a word, he swept forward to gather her into his arms, tears glittering in his eyes.

“I feared the worst when you didn’t come home! Oh, Elia, why didn’t you come home? Did I anger you? Your mother told me I’d asked too much. Please, forget everything I said. I won’t be so grand with my ideas next time.” He let her wiggle free of his arms, but he managed to catch hold of her face and cradle her cheeks in both hands. “You’re unhurt? Unharmed?”

“Yes,” she got out at last as she grasped her father by the wrists. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Slowly, Cass rose from the couch.

Her father’s eyes slipped past her to settle on him, his countenance changed in an instant from eager and relieved to cold. “Who’s this, then?”

Elia extricated herself from her father’s grasp and took a step backwards. “As I told Romaric, this is Cass.” And the single step she’d taken put her closer to him. Odd, how his presence felt more steadfast and reassuring than that of her family. “He aided me yesterday. I believe he saved my life twice over.”

None of her father’s suspicion was alleviated. If anything, his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, don’t start story time without us, now,” Angene called from the hallway. A moment later, she appeared with Elia’s mother holding tight to her arm.

Mother looked good today, Elia noted. She didn’t often, anymore. Her cheeks bore a healthy amount of pink, though, and her eyes were clear and bright. She’d feared her mother might suffer in her absence, literally worrying herself sick. If she had, news of Elia’s return had been quick to balance her humors.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Elia said as she motioned for Cass to sit again. He didn’t. Instead, he remained on his feet until after Angene helped Mother to a chair. Romaric and Father took seats nearby, while Angene poured them all some more tea, and Cass finally sank to the couch when Elia did.

Now that it was time to tell the tale, she hardly knew where to begin. Before she’d unraveled her tangle of thoughts, Cass started without her.

“I’m here to work the sap run,” he said without preamble. “I hired on with Vinson’s setup a month or two ago. Been doing odd jobs on his property to fill the time until work begins. Elia was ambushed by a band of men in the sugarbush when she came to buy sugar.”

Mother shot Father a harsh I-told-you-so sort of look, then gave a lofty sniff.

“They were attacking my friend Peretor, Vinson’s nephew,” Elia added. Her hands shook, so she clasped them in her lap. When had she put down her teacup? She hardly recalled. Before she put a hand to Cass’s forehead to check for fever, was it? Maybe it didn’t matter. “When they saw me, they came after me, too. I tried to fight them off with branches, but there were a lot of them, and Cass…”

“I had an axe.”

She twitched at the blunt statement, but it was true. She couldn’t ask him for anything else. “But there were too many to best them on our own. I don’t know how many, really. They took Peretor with them.”

“And the blizzard started,” Cass added in such a monotone, he might have been remarking on something as ordinary as a cloud.

“So we ran, but he was injured after fighting off those brutes, so we couldn’t go far. We took shelter in one of Vinson’s cabins among the maples.” That it was the cabin Cass occupied all the time seemed unwise to share, given the sharp way her father and brother already eyed him.

He seemed to have reached the same conclusion, for he did not correct her or add that information on his own. “Well stocked with firewood, fortunately, but not much else. She’s a resourceful cook. Kept us from going hungry overnight.”

“Of course,” her father replied. He didn’t appreciate the story as much as Elia figured he ought; he appeared more troubled than anything.

She’d planned to layer on more praise for Cass. Instead, she truncated the tale. “As soon as the storm cleared this morning, we took word of what happened to Peretor to Vinson, being that they’re family and all. Then Cass brought me home, and…” She trailed off and waved a hand at the room.

Romaric snorted. “Unbelievable.”

Elia blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You just happened to be near these brigands to help the rich nobleman’s daughter? But you didn’t see the sugarmaker’s nephew and go to his aid, or do anything to keep him from being carted off?” He gave Cass a hard look.

Cass was not cowed. “Your employer’s spoiled nephew who never called for help, or the pretty woman who you saw stumble into the scene? Who would you save?”

A hint of warmth colored Elia’s cheeks. He thought she was pretty?

“Whoever brings you the greater reward, I’d imagine,” her brother said.

Her father cleared his throat. “I think that’s quite enough, Romaric.”

“Yes,” her mother agreed. “By the Light, what sort of person would allow themselves to come to harm as part of some scheme? How severe is the injury, anyway?”

“It’ll heal,” Cass said. He drank from his tea before he went on. “And I don’t expect any reward. Your maid offered medicine for the injury I sustained. All I ask is that I might have it, or care from a medic in the city. If the wound in my side is healed, then we’re even.”

Elia’s father waved a hand, his rings glittering. She suspected he’d tilted his hand that way on purpose, so the gems would catch the light. He did that, sometimes, when he sought to make a point. “Come now, don’t be ridiculous! Am I to believe you want nothing from me at all?”

“Just medicine,” Cass said. “As I just said. Or a medic’s services. The sooner I’m back to work, the better.”

“No money? No favors?”

Romaric’s face darkened when Cass shook his head, but a look from both parents kept him silent.

This time, it was Mother who spoke. “You must let us reward you somehow. You must understand what a service you’ve done us by keeping our Elia safe. You cannot imagine how precious she is to us.”

Cass spared Elia a glance and his dark eyes softened. “It’s not hard to see why she would be, my lady.”

A small, delightful flutter stirred in Elia’s chest.

“Which is why you deserve something,” her father declared as he shook a finger toward the ceiling. “Medicine, of course, from the finest apothecary in Samara! Treatment from our most skilled medics. Coin, should you want it. And… and… the king.”

“What?” Elia and Romaric cried in unison.

Their father clapped his hands together. “Oh, yes. A trip to the palace is in order. Surely the king will want to thank you for preserving his bride’s favorite cousin. Whatever reward I can offer, the king can offer tenfold.”

Cass choked on his tea.

“I’m sure King Gaius will want to know whatever you saw in the woods, too,” Romaric added. “And about whatever fate has become the subject you chose not to rescue.”

Had Elia been closer, she would have smacked him. She’d done no more than shoot him a glower before Cass spoke.

“You can do that? An audience with the king?” There was a note in his voice that took Elia by surprise, something between intrigue and contemplation, and it struck her as odd.

Her father puffed himself up like a pigeon. “Of course. We’re a family of some station, you know.”

Cass gave the slightest nod. “Of course. That much is obvious.” As was the pensive furrow to his brow. Hadn’t he insisted on his need to return to work just a moment before? Or that he desired no reward beyond seeing his wound healed? The shift in his attitude the moment the king was mentioned was too great to be ignored, and it left Elia on edge. Their discussion of the king had been brief, but it had left her with the distinct belief Cass didn’t even like Gaius.

No. Perhaps that was wrong. He’d said the king was too secretive. He’d expressed suspicion that Elia admitted was not wholly unfounded.

Still, the abrupt change in his demeanor was too much to ignore, and she chose to address it the way she solved everything, plastering on a sweet smile as she set her resolve. “A splendid idea, Father. I’ll take him, of course.”

“What?” her mother cried. “Oh, you’ve only just gotten home!”

Cass, too, protested. “I couldn’t ask that of you. Not after all you’ve dealt with.”

“But who is most likely to be admitted to the palace without a prior appointment?” Elia met his eye and let her smile deepen.

Something descended into his expression, a shadow that reminded her of a mask.

“I say there’s no one better,” her father said. “Yes, she’s only just returned to us, but is there anywhere safer she could be?”

The doubt that filled her mother’s eyes spoke for itself.

Romaric remained silent, but the way he crossed his arms and scowled made it clear Elia had already exhausted his short supply of objections. She made a mental note to thank him later. His sullenness was only out of a desire to protect her, and she couldn’t say it was unfounded.

“Splendid,” her father said, though the way he rubbed his hands together afterward gave Elia pause. How he was planning to spin the king’s presumed favor in his direction, she didn’t want to know, but she’d deal with that later. “Shall you be off right away, then?”

“Yes,” Elia said.

“No,” Angene corrected. “Good heavens, don’t forget the man is injured. Come with me, would you? Let’s see what damage has been done, so I can get you all fixed up.”

Cass put his cup aside and pushed himself from the couch, but not before he cast Elia a thoughtful glance. He said nothing, but that glance said enough.

He knew she suspected something, and the speculative way he studied her before he slipped out with Angene made her tingle with curiosity.

In a moment, something had changed, and Elia was determined to know what.