Free Solace Shattered by Anna Steffl Page A

arms and sat on a bench.
    “You’re not going to dance?” Miss Gallivere’s mouth hardened. “But I insist.”
    The fellow with the pockmarked complexion, Sebastion was his name, made a gallant bow to Miss Gallivere. “It would be my pleasure.”
    She drew her lips into an alluring smile but then turned to Sebastion and accepted his offer. For half a moment, Degarius reconsidered. Her hair, piled high on her head, showed her long, slender neck. Couldn’t she forsake one moment’s pleasure, though, to sit by him in the firelight? Rather, she took Sebastion’s offer to spite him. He had underestimated his enemy. She hadn’t surrendered. She was going to make him fight. But a good general never allowed himself to be lured into battle by trick maneuvers. He let her go.
    A circle formed. It was a chaotic, infectious free dance. They reversed directions, swarmed in and out, raised and lowered their joined hands. Degarius noted he wasn’t the only observer. The governor had stayed with the Solacian. At least the governor had devotion, though he wasn’t spending these nearly private moments acting like her lover; he kept glancing in Degarius’s direction. Afraid of being caught?
    At the end of the dance, calls came for another and the music started again. The governor came across the sand. Near Degarius, he stopped and watched the dancers a moment before turning and extending his hand. “I haven’t been introduced to you, but I know you’re the Sarapostan chancellor’s son, Captain Degarius. I’m Keithan.”
    Degarius accepted the handshake. “You’re the new Orlandian governor.”
    “Unfortunately.” The governor sat and withdrew a fine silver flask from his coat. “Care for a drink?”
    Though dubious what the governor wanted from him, Degarius unscrewed the cap and held the flask to his nose. A dense, heady, sweet smell wafted out. Brandy. He tipped the flask. The liquid drained into his mouth and was warm on his tongue. It was a damn good brandy. He passed the flask back. “That’s remarkable. Where did you find it?” The Acadians were fond of wine, but liquors were rare here.
    “My father imports it from Garonne.” The governor took a drink, obviously relishing it. “Acadians think strong liquor a vice. But some vices are too fine to forsake.”
    Degarius looked askance at him. “Like fine women?”
    The governor was quiet. To hell with him if he’d hit upon a sore spot, Degarius thought. Then, however, the governor said, “That has never been one of my vices.” Looking directly into Degarius’s eyes, the governor offered the flask again. “Has it been yours?”
    Degarius drank. “No. I’ve been careful to avoid that fate.”
    The governor smiled. “I thought so. Miss Gallivere and you...you’re not really...you’re true.”
    What in all hell? Did he look like a monk?
    As Degarius gave back the flask, the governor’s hand, instead of taking the flask, covered his and exerted pressure. “You should come to my apartments after the feast.”
    So that was what the governor wanted of him! Keithan was one of those who sought other men. Degarius pulled his hand away, the flask still in it. “I believe you’re mistaken.”
    The governor wore a mask of confusion. “I thought...you were watching...”
    Watching? Him? Oh hell, he had been staring. Degarius shook his head.
    The governor awkwardly stood. “Forgive my mistake.”
    Degarius rose, too, and extended the flask. “A fine brandy, sir.”
    As the governor moved a few steps away, Degarius saw that the Solacian had been watching. She showed neither the anger nor shock of a betrayed woman; it was pure pity. She knew what the governor was. She was his friend, but certainly not his lover. Though it had all been so damnably awkward, Degarius smiled to himself, felt like getting up and moving about. He rose, thrust his hands in his pockets, skirted the bonfire and dancers, and went to the river’s edge. Boats from upstream jostled in the