Oracle: The House War: Book Six Read Online Free PDF Page B

sharp.
    Finch cringed. Not even she could pretend that the comment was delivered with any affection.
    “It pains me to watch my husband wrap you all around his fingers,” Hannerle continued. “I’ve half a mind to break something over his head—but none of the things here belong to me, and breaking
your
crockery seems like poor thanks for your hospitality.” Her hands tightened briefly before she pulled them free. “I understand why he’s here. I don’t like it, but I understand it.
    “So I’ll give you advice, and it’s worth every penny you pay for it. He’s arrogant. He thinks the world of himself. And he hates to lose. He notices everything, so you might as well not bother trying to lie to him. But if you put your life in his hands, he’ll keep you safe.
    “Don’t put more than your life in his hands.”
    “Hannerle—”
    “Jay trusts him? Aye, I know. As do I. But I know him, Finch. If he causes you trouble, kick him out. If he causes you too much trouble, come to me.”
    Finch nodded. “I will.” When Hannerle hesitated, she smiled. “He’s not the only older man I have to keep an eye on.”
    “That,” his wife replied, with a significant glance at Haval, “is exactly what I’m afraid of.”
     • • • 
    “I
like
the girl,” Hannerle said, when she was of a mind to speak to Haval. This did not occur until they were almost at the bridge that separated the Isle from the mainland.
    “Yes.”
    “I like Teller as well. Don’t involve them in games they can’t play.”
    “Hannerle, I am unlikely to involve
them
in anything. They are—in case it has slipped your mind—the putative regent and the
actual
right-kin of one of the most powerful Houses in the Empire. I realize they are young, but they are not incompetent children; there is no need to coddle them. If they actually require such coddling, there is very little I can do to preserve them.”
    “You know what I meant.”
    He did. He considered, and reconsidered, the wisdom of his present position. “Hannerle,” he finally said, scrubbing his face of all expression.
    “I hate it when you do that.”
    “I know. But you also hate it when I lie.”
    “It makes me wonder why I married you in the first place.”
    He smiled—and that, at least, was genuine. “I have often wondered that myself.” He slid a hand over both of hers; they were not so loosely clasped in her lap. She had withered during her convalescence, much of her weight lost to lack of food and near endless sleep.
    “Do
not
,” she said, as if she could hear his thoughts, “mother
me
.” But she did not pull her hands away. Instead, she met his unblinking gaze and held it.
    In decades past, there were very, very few who could meet and hold that gaze. Duvari. Jarven. Ararath. Not his godfather, Hectore. Rath’s protégée, the young woman who was now The Terafin, could—but only when anger swamped her uncertainties.
    “Why have you accepted my involvement in Terafin affairs? I gave you my word that I would cease all my meddling and return to the store if you would but wake on your own.”
    “I didn’t wake on my own,” was his wife’s stiff reply.
    “It is unlike you to quibble trivialities, Hannerle.”
    She glared. The glare was comfortable and familiar. It was not, however, comforting. His wife was afraid.
    Haval understood Hannerle on an instinctive level; he always had. She was no more a mystery than The Terafin or her many allies. But she had a combination of characteristics that he found in very few. She was the sovereign of her domain, but she had always been willing to share the spaces she created. She considered her responsibilities burdens—but in the way that children were, to other couples.
    They had never had children.
    He wondered, now, how Hannerle might have changed if they had.
    And he wondered, as he observed her, his own expression remote and impenetrable, what had occurred while she slept. He felt the edge of anger; it was bracing.