Free Oria's Gambit by Jeffe Kennedy Page A

enough for a while
there—enough to recognize what a terrible idea this is.”
    “ I don’t think it’s a terrible
idea.”
    “ You don’t?” Her toe caught the hem of
her robe in her moment of inattention. “But you said
that—”
    “ That the Destrye king would not be easily
led. I think he is a good mate for you.”
    She rolled her eyes behind the mask. “Like
you’d know.”
    He gave her the mental equivalent of a shrug. “You like him. The rest can be overcome.”
    “ Now you sound like him.”
    “ Attempting to summon the Trom yourself,
however,” he continued, turning severe, “that is a terrible
idea. Even your mother retains enough wit to know that. You run the
risk of—”
    She bumped her shoulder to interrupt the
lecture, making her Familiar spread his wings for balance. “I’m
not discussing this right now.”
    “You could be having this conversation with
me, you know,” Lonen commented.
    They emerged into the servants’ corridor and
Oria paused, both undecided about the direction they should take
and chagrined at Lonen’s remark. “I apologize.” She made herself
face him. “I’m in the habit of being with Chuffta and talking to
him, not with…”
    “Another human being?” he supplied, a ripple
of humor beneath it.
    Why that made her blush, she had no idea. His
body heat, perhaps, like a coal brazier in the narrow, enclosed
hall. “Right,” she replied, determined to leave it at that.
    “What happened to her?” Lonen asked, with so
much gentle concern it nearly undid her.
    “I explained already. My father’s death
damaged her.”
    “You said because of this ideal mate
business.”
    “Yes.” She braced herself for a barrage of
more questions.
    He pondered, however, hand stroking
thoughtfully over his beard. “It seems to me that if I make
guesses, then you’re not technically telling me secrets.”
    “Lonen…” She hated the helpless sound in her
voice, but she didn’t know what she could possibly say to explain
any of it. The encounter with her damaged mother had left her wrung
dry and facing High Priestess Febe felt beyond her. They should go
to the temple and do that next, but she couldn’t quite find the
impetus to leave the stuffy, shadowed corridor. Perhaps all of it
had been a stupid, hopeless plan. She was so tired of fighting.
    “Give me some rope here and see if I can
climb on my own.” Lonen leaned against the wall and crossed his
ankles, still stroking his beard as he studied her. She didn’t
object because at least she could hide a little longer. “Your
mother called me ‘mind-dead,’ which I assume refers to my not being
a sorcerer.”
    “I’m really sorry about that,” she whispered
in furious embarrassment. “She’s—”
    “You apologize too much. I’m not offended,
though I gather that’s an insult. I know as well as you do that I
don’t have magic. I don’t consider this a failing. I don’t want it,
except maybe to help build aqueducts.”
    Bemused, she parsed the word. “Build
what?”
    “Never mind. An idle thought, and something
we can discuss later, when you come with me to Dru.”
    “Which I can’t promise that—”
    “Yes, yes, I know. Never mind that, either.
What’s important at the moment is that I gather that is this ideal
mate thing would connect you mentally to your husband, and there’s
some sort of magical component, too. Which your mother and father
had and she’s distressed to the point of refusing to help you marry
me because she places such a high value on wanting that for
you.”
    “It’s not really that—”
    “‘The sacrifice is too great’—her exact
words.”
    “Stop interrupting me!” She nearly stamped
her foot with the frustration at both the Destrye and Chuffta
snickering in her head.
    “Then stop saying things that don’t matter,”
he fired back, shocking her. “This is an important
conversation.”
    “That we’re having in a servant’s corridor,”
she pointed out.
    He chuckled at