He wore a black flat cap, long wool pants with muck on the hem, and a dark overcoat that reached his knees.
If the Airren authorities caught him using an illegal glamour, he’d be hanged. Considering his age and occupation, I figured he’d had plenty of experience keeping it up. His presence complicated things to no end. If the man knew who I was, he’d surely tell his mistress, and I could kiss my ring goodbye.
The old man’s eyes skimmed over me without so much as a spark of recognition before he hobbled over to check the bindings on the horses.
The woman turned.
I nearly missed my next step.
The fading light of day highlighted her alabaster skin and sharp cheekbones. Thick lashes surrounded the most unusual pair of steel-gray eyes. The mist softened her long, dark brown hair into damp waves.
My fingers itched to unfasten that damned cloak to discover what she’d hidden beneath her high-neck black gown.
At least retrieving the ring wouldn’t be a chore.
When she saw me, a deep wrinkle marred the space between her arched eyebrows. Her pinched mouth turned down in a disapproving frown. “What time do you call this?” she clipped.
The apology on my tongue died.
What time do you call this? What sort of greeting was that? I’d gotten here as soon as I could.
She lifted to her toes, scanning over my shoulder. “And where is your horse?”
Even if I didn’t despise the beasts, I certainly wouldn’t have been caught dead on one of them in this lawless country. And it was feckin’ raining.
“I don’t have a horse,” I said, adjusting my clothes and bag to keep my hands busy.
The woman’s brow furrowed.
The idea of being cooped up in a carriage with such a waspish human sounded as appealing as a day in the stocks. Still, I wouldn’t be able to get the ring if she didn’t let me inside.
“You think I’m going to let you ride with me?”
“I can always stay here and let you find the Gancanagh on your own if you’d prefer.”
The coachman shifted, pale blue eyes raking from my head to my old boots. I was nearly certain I’d never seen him before, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t seen me. The way he stared set me on edge. If he knew me, why did he remain silent?
The wasp let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose there’s enough room for the both of us.” Once again, her tone made it sound like she was doing me some sort of favor. As if I hadn’t been the one to leave my castle and duties behind to waste my time with this.
I gave her a bow and a muttered, “You’re too kind,” then waited for her to climb the two steps into the carriage. The wide layers of her skirts rustled as she settled herself on the center of the tufted blue cushions, not leaving a bit of room for me.
I threw myself onto the trunk across the way and abandoned my bag on the floor next to my overcoat. I hated carriages almost as much as I despised horses. Fancy cages on wheels, too stuffy and close. I shoved my sleeves to my elbows, trying to get some air to my overheated skin. Why was it so feckin’ warm in here? You’d swear it was the height of summer instead of the start of autumn.
These curtains were nice though. Blue with a swirly pattern woven into the heavy material. Something like this would be perfect for the parlor instead of those hideous flowery things.
“Where to, milady?” the coachman asked with a baleful glare in my direction.
Why was he asking her? She didn’t know where we were headed. “We need to go to Guaire,” I told him.
The coachman’s gaze flicked to his mistress. “Milady?”
Her brittle smile reminded me of the painted porcelain dolls I’d seen in shops around the island. Easily shattered. “We need to head northwest,” she said in the most condescending tone I’d ever heard. As if I were some simpleton.
We would need to go northwest if we were going to Tearmann. But we weren’t. Not a hope. Being cursed to tell the truth had taught me a valuable lesson about wording bargains. I had promised to bring the wasp to the Gancanagh, not his castle. And since Iwasthe Gancanagh, technically, I’d already fulfilled my end.
There was no sense traveling the treacherous northern paths when we could take the well-worn roads south. I could hardly convince her to give me that ring if we didn’t travel anywhere.
“We travel to Guaire,” I repeated in the same tone, returning the coachman’s scowl. If he knew what was good for him, he’d go away with himself.