Struggling against anger, she managed a nod. ‘Of course, Councillor Orr. Forgive me if I do not see you out.’
He smiled. ‘Easily done, milady.’
When he was gone, Shardan swore softly under his breath. ‘He was angry with you.’
‘Oh?’ The hand that raised the goblet to her lips was, she saw, trembling.
‘Hanut wants your father to come to him, not the other way round. He won’t be a squirming pup to anyone.’
‘A pup is never strong enough to make the first move, Shardan Lim. He misunderstood my challenge.’
‘Because it implies a present failing on his part. A failing of his nerve.’
‘Perhaps it does, and that should make him angry with me? How, precisely, does that work?’
Shardan Lim laughed and as he stretched out it was clear that, free now of Hanut Orr’s shadow, he was like a deadly flower opening to the night. ‘You showed him up for the self-important but weak-willed bully that he is.’
‘Unkind words for your friend.’
Shardan Lim stared down at his goblet as he drank a mouthful. Then he said in a growl, ‘Hanut Orr is no friend of mine.’
The wine was making her brain feel strangely loose, untethered. She no longer even tasted each sip, there had been so many of them, the servant a silent ghost slipping in to refill her goblet. ‘I think he believes otherwise.’’I doubt it. It was some damned conspiracy with House Orr that saw my father assassinated. And now it seems my family is snared, trapped, and the games just go on and on.’
This was a most unexpected side of the man and she did not know how to respond to it. ‘Such honesty humbles me, Shardan Lim. For what it is worth, I will keep what I have heard this night to myself.’
‘No need, but thank you anyway. In fact, I’d rather your husband well understood how things stand. Hanut Orr is a dangerous man. House Lim and House Vidikas share many things, principal among them the stigma of disrespect on the Council. Contempt, even. I have been curious,’ and now the look he turned upon her was sharp, searching. ‘This venture of your husband’s, ever pushing for this ironmonger of his to attain membership in the Council-what does Gorlas play at?’
She blinked in confusion. ‘I’m sorry, I have no idea.’
‘Might you find out? For me?’
‘I am not sure if I can-Gorlas does not confide in me on such matters.’
‘Does he confide in you at all?’ He went on without waiting for her reply (not that she had one). ‘Lady Vidikas-Challice-he is wasting you, do you understand? I see this-gods, it leaves me furious! You are an intelligent woman, a beautiful woman, and he treats you like one of these silver plates. Just one more possession, one more piece in his hoard.’
She set her goblet down. ‘What do you want from me, Shardan Lim? Is this some sort of invitation? A conspiracy of love? Trysts behind my husband’s back? While he travels here and there, you and I meeting up in some squalid inn? Getting intimate with each other’s bodies, then lying back and making pointless plans, endlessly lying to each other about a future together?’
He stared across at her.
All the servants had with uncharacteristic discreetness vanished into the side chambers, the kitchens, anywhere but this dining room. Even the wine server had disappeared. It occurred to Challice that Shardan’s manservant had probably been free with coin among the house staff and that sly, silent man was now outside in the courtyard, passing a pipe to eager-eyed menials, and they were all laughing, snickering, rolling their eyes and worse.
Too late, she realized, to change any of that. To scour the lurid thoughts from their petty minds.
‘You describe,’ Shardan Lim finally said, ‘a most sordid arrangement, with all the cynicism of a veteran in such matters. And that I do not believe. You have been faithful, Challice. I would not so care for you otherwise.’
‘Oh? Have you been spying on me, then?’ It was a mocking question that lost its carefree aura as the man voiced no denial, and she suddenly felt chilled to the bone. ‘Following another man’s wife around does not seem an honourable thing to do, Shardan Lim.’
‘Love has no honour.’
‘Love? Or obsession? Is it not your own hunger for possession that has you cov-eting a woman owned by another man?’’He does not own you. That is my point, Challice. Such notions of ownership are nothing but twisted lies disguised as love. 1 have no interest in owning you. Nor in stealing you away-if I had I would have found an excuse to duel your husband long ago, and I would have killed him without compunction. For you. To give you hack your life.’