The Traitor's Game (The Traitor's Game 1) - Page 35

If there was ever a time to play innocent, this was it. "Where else would I go?"

"Did you go to the stables?"

I bit down on my tongue, checking any expression of triumph. After seeing Gerald, she and Simon had gone back there together. He had searched his bag and realized the key was missing. He must be furious right now, or, at least, I hoped he was.

"I'd get filthy in the stables." I brushed off her accusation with a casual wave of my hand. "Mess up all the work you did for tonight. Why do you ask?"

It was a question she couldn't answer. Simon had told me that the sack from the Halderians contained nothing of importance, and if she asked me specifically about it, that would suggest it was important.

She replied the only way she could. "No reason. Someone mentioned they had seen you there, that's all."

Nobody had seen me there. I wasn't foolish enough to allow that.

She took time to fix a few loose curls of my hair, and it was far too soon before a knock came at my door. Was it time for the supper already? Hungry as I was, no food could taste good enough to counteract the bitterness of meeting someone I'd soon be forced to marry.

You won't be here by then. That thought was poor comfort, but it was all I had.

I had expected Gerald would escort me, but Simon poked his head inside. His attention instantly fixed on me and a small smile escaped his lips before he corrected it. "Gerald is attending to your father. I'll take you to the supper."

Well, wouldn't he like that? Three minutes longer that he could keep an eye on me, lecture me. I walked beside him while we passed a couple of maids, but once we started down the steps, Simon paused on a landing and touched my arm, asking me to stop too.

"I know the plan!" I hissed. "Honestly--"

"That's not it." He glanced around, ensuring we were alone. "I just wanted to say ... about Trina ... well, that was a decent thing you did."

I wasn't sure how to respond. Was this an attempt at kindness? Maybe he was confusing me with someone else, someone he didn't hate.

Finally, I shrugged. "I caused the problem. I couldn't let her take the blame."

"Six years ago, you let John and me take the blame for that missing ring. Maybe I judged you too harshly, and if I have, then I'm sorry." A beat passed. "I'm sorry things have to happen this way."

He stopped there, searching my eyes with his. What was he hoping to find in me? Goodness? Proof that he was right to apologize? Because if he was looking for anything redeemable, he'd be disappointed. I did accuse him and John that day, I was never going to put the Olden Blade in his hands, and I was part of the Dallisor world, not his. None of that would ever change.

Unless it could change ... back. We had been friends once, in our way. If I had not set a torch to that friendship, things might have been very different now.

If he had stayed on in our household, if we had grown up as friends ... perhaps as something more than friends, maybe I'd be used to him looking at me with this intensity. Like he was memorizing the details of my face, and at the same time, scrambling my thoughts, softening the shell I'd built around me.

If he was testing my courage, then I couldn't be the first to lower my eyes. He couldn't think, or suspect, or know how his gaze unnerved me, disarmed me. The depth in his eyes emptied me of my defenses, protection I absolutely needed if I was going to survive this. If he was strong, then I had to be stronger. I held his gaze, determined to hide my every weakness. Or to discover his.

Our standoff only lasted a few seconds, though it felt much longer, and Simon was the first to blink. I started back down the steps, saying, "We can't be late."

He had been about to say something, probably to ask if I'd stolen anything from him recently. But with bustling noises below from the servants, we no longer had the privacy of the landing for such a conversation.

He held out his arm for me to walk at his side. I also knew what that was--a polite excuse to keep me close enough for us to speak quietly.

"You clean up well," he said. "Your ... er, hair."

The compliment was awkward, but sincere. The fact that he had anything nice to say surprised me. "Trina does better work than I'd have expected."

"She's not as stupid as you've made her out to be." He sighed. "Trina's had a difficult life, rejected nearly everywhere she's gone."

I snorted. "Shocking news."

He tried again. "All she wants is to do something important. You can understand how humiliating this must be."

"Yes, constantly threatening my life must be awful for her. Maybe you're offended because you like her."

He paused, taken aback. "That's not true."

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen The Traitor's Game Fantasy
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