Page 12 of Angel in Absentia
“Yes?” Clea prodded after a moment.
“You,” Iris began, “what do you know about exchanging hearts?”
Clea closed her eyes again but felt a subtle jolt through her chest. She kept her hands folded on her stomach.
“What do you mean?” she asked, treading carefully and doing her best to act nonchalant. Few knew that she carried the heart of a Venennin, much less an Insednian. It would be a scandal powerful enough to break her image if anyone could prove it. She knew Iris could be discreet, but the timeliness of the question alarmed her.
“Apparently, it can’t be forced. The heart is genuine, more genuine than we all are about our feelings, and so two people who exchange hearts have a special, lasting bond. It can happen between friends, family, and even lovers, though I suppose the last would be rather potent. Can you imagine? Trading hearts with someone who is also a lover? I would imagine a bond like that might be so potent that it could be rather impossible to resist. Rare, but not impossible. Do you believe in things like that?”
Clea now eased up where she lay, trying to not look suspicious as she glanced at Iris carefully. “What brought this up?” she asked, wondering if, during Clea’s own research of exchanging hearts, Iris had somehow caught on. But no, Clea had been extremelydiscreet. No one knew. No one needed to. Given enough time, the bond might just fade completely. There was no real reason to share anything about it.
Iris looked away, seemingly nonchalant, but the woman was masterful at hiding her intentions, though Clea had always found them to be well-meaning. Iris had been a courtesan of Ruedom in her earlier years, carefully learning how to dance through vagaries and present fronts. It was often hard to tell if Iris was up to something because she always seemed to have the air of being up to something, even in her most innocent state.
“I received a letter the other day from a friend who had exchanged hearts in childhood with another friend. They grew up their entire lives side by side, sharing challenges and victories alongside each other as they both married around the same time, had children around the same time, and grew into old age reflecting back on their lives as their children grew old and their husbands died. People can be matched in body and mind, but to be matched by the heart, I just wonder what kind of experience that would be,” Iris said, and her eyes flickered down to Clea’s necklace and the golden hairpin attached to it.
She knows.The idea echoed through her like a gong.
If she knows, who else knows?
Clea swallowed, preparing her answer.
No. It could be a coincidence. How would she know? How could she possibly know?
“That’s one example,” Clea started, trying not to swallow, “but no one says they have to be long-lasting. I’m sure they can come and go. The heart is a fickle thing.”
Before Iris could reply, another voice washed across the clearing.
“I see you’re all enjoying yourselves,” it said, and everyone seemed to stop at once.
Dae dodged a blow and stepped away, leaving Yvan to stumble forward before they both turned. Clea stood up hurriedly, Iris rolling onto her back.
It was Catagard, standing with his arms folded in front of him between two burned trees and an old twisted forest totem of bent metal and glass from the war.
“Catagard?” Clea and Dae both said in unified surprise.
“You never leave the city,” Clea pointed out as she searched the clearing.
“Yes,” he said. “Well,” he started, dusting off invisible ash on his cloak, clearly uncomfortable. “I didn’t have much of a choice. Your Highness,” he added, directing his attention to Clea. “You are needed, and it was important I send for you personally.”
Strange,she thought, but she consented.
She nodded back to the others, turning and following Catagard. She wondered why he hadn’t just sent a scout and prepared to ask him, but he answered the question on his own.
“The castle is full of eyes and ears,” Catagard said. “This is a private matter that I wanted to brief you on outside of the city. Something occurred in your absence. I’ve been waiting for you to get appropriately settled.” His thin hands were still folded in front of him, and already a small man, he was dwarfed in comparison to the large ashen trees around them. He took a strange path back, avoiding patches of Kalex settlements.
“While you were gone, a Venennin surrendered himself to us,” Catagard began, barely above a whisper. “He’s claiming that he has a message for your ears alone. He refuses to give us any other information, despite the best that our own interrogators could do. You understand, we don’t want to expose you to any risk, but we’ve been interrogating him for weeks with no results.”
“He asked to speak to me?” Clea asked in surprise.
“We too thought it was strange,” Catagard said, “especially considering he is a Venennin, and more so that he is a—” He paused as if the word got stuck in his throat. He looked around, at her, and then forward again, grimacing.
“A Belgearian?” Clea asked.
Catagard shook his head.
“Not a Virad or Ashana, of course, unless you—”
They’d wanted to keep the matter private.
