Fear and Honor Read online

  “Are you afraid?” Alize asked suddenly as she reached over and took Celina's uninjured hand. “Being a part of a war? Being a woman in war?”

  I didn't need either of them to explain what they were really asking. After the brutality of what Celina had been through, after seeing women being essentially sold off to whoever their family felt would make the best husband, they knew how most men viewed and treated women. Unfortunately, ones like Alexandre and Gracen were the exception and not the rule...and even they didn't quite get it.

  When I'd been tending to Celina's injuries, I’d also been building up her hopes, telling her how the fight for freedom would eventually reach women too. I knew that, sometimes, I spoke with far too much factual certainty, and I’d catch Celina and Alize staring at me. I knew I had to be careful, but when they asked questions like that, when I saw them fearing what the world would think of them, it was hard to couch knowledge of the future in vague terms that could be easily dismissed.

  “It's not about being afraid,” I said finally. “It's about doing what's right despite being afraid. And when something this big is on the line, it's definitely worth fighting through the fear.”

  “You truly believe that your people can defeat an army that the French have been unable to conquer?” Alize asked, more surprise than arrogance in her voice.

  “I do,” I said. “I believe that people who fight for their beliefs, who fight for their basic freedoms, are far stronger than most realize.” I smiled at the two of them and continued, “And I truly believe that, one day, people will win the right to love whoever they want. It won't be easy, and the battles will be fought in much different ways, but it will happen.”

  The young women stared at me for several silent seconds, and I wondered if I'd gone too far.

  “Are you a mystique?” Celina asked, her eyes wide with wonder. “Do you see the future?”

  I thought of Dye and the things that she'd said, the way she'd almost seemed to know things that she shouldn't. Those might've been coincidences, but what I knew was fact. Though how I knew it, I supposed, was a bit on the mystical side. If there was a scientific explanation for it, I hadn't found it yet, and I doubted I ever would.

  I wasn't sure how much I could tell them, but I went with what I could. “In a way.”

  Yeah, that was a good explanation.

  “You are a strange woman, Honor Lightwood,” Alize said but was looking at me so fondly, it took the edge off the words.

  She had no idea.

  As she and Celina walked away, I was struck by a memory.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Rogers. I wasn’t really interested in what he was doing. I just wanted to find anything that would take my mind off the nausea I'd been experiencing the last couple days. For some reason, adjusting to the heat this time had made me sick to my stomach.

  “Updating my will,” he answered, not looking up from the page.

  I propped myself up on one elbow, but quickly rested my cheek against my outstretched arm again when the world spun. “Why? What’s changed? Don’t tell me you won the lottery and have a bunch of extra cash to dole out,” I teased.

  Rogers, however, didn't laugh. “I found out that my house is worth more than it used to be due to real estate in the area and the extensions that’ve been added. I need to make sure my mom gets all of it.”

  “I thought she was already getting everything.”

  “The law is picky,” he said. “It needs to be said just right and clearly.”

  “You're still giving me your Mustang, right?”

  A slight smile worked its way onto Rogers’s lips. “Not a chance in hell. You'd run it into the ground.”

  I chuckled, but the sound had a somber note to it that I couldn't quite stop. “You’re not planning on dying, are you? Because, I’ll have you know that I won’t allow it. I mean, we agreed that we were going to outlive each other.”

  Rogers glanced up at me, but the fact that he didn't even crack a smile told me that he was serious.

  We all knew that death was something we faced on a daily basis here and that we needed to be prepared for it at all times, but I didn't like talking about it, especially not like this. Not in this sort of rational manner. I wanted these men to go home after this was all over, raise families, pursue their civilian dreams. Every time we set foot on dangerous territory, I was praying that I wouldn’t end up attending their funerals. I’d already gone to more than my fair share.

  “I don’t like when you talk like that,” I admitted. We rarely had heart-to-hearts, but when Rogers started to talk like this, I knew it was time to break that habit.

  He sighed and looked up at me, his dark eyes meeting mine. “I appreciate what you're trying to do, Honor, but we both know the risks of our job.”

  I fiddled with the corner of the pillowcase beneath my head, my eyes on my short nails. I'd had to cut them to stop myself from nervously chewing on them. “It doesn’t hurt to remain positive.”

  Rogers smiled, raising his eyebrows. “You're really going to give me that 'be positive' shit.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. I'm just saying.”

  “'Just saying' doesn't mean shit when you got insurgents shooting at you and trying to blow you up.”

  “Shut up and write your will already.” I groaned as my stomach did another flip. It was going to be a long night.

  “Madame Lightwood?” Celina's voice pulled me back, and I gave her a tight smile.

  “I'm okay,” I insisted. “Just thinking.” I stood. “We should go get ready for dinner.”

  The girls agreed and hurried off.

  For the first time since arriving here, I found myself genuinely wondering what was going on in my time. Would everyone think I'd simply vanished? I assumed my car had crashed, but there was no body for them to find. Would they suspect foul play? Would they accuse Bruce?

  Shit.

  I closed my eyes, rubbing my temples to try to stave off the headache that was throbbing at the base of my skull.

  “The revolution is on everyone’s minds, I think.”

  I opened my eyes as Gracen came toward me. He wrapped his arms around me, kissing me on my forehead before pulling me toward him. I didn't tell him I wasn't thinking about the war just then. It would only make him think that I was regretting my decision. I wasn't.

  I leaned against him, letting the steady beat of his heart turn my mind back to the here and now. It wasn't all bad. Christmas was in a few days, and we were safe here. We had work to do, true, but that didn't mean we couldn't take a few minutes for ourselves. I had a feeling, with what was coming, we'd need it.

  Chapter 29

  “I wish my father had not decided to host a party this year,” Alize said with a sigh.

  Alexandre had made the announcement that his annual Christmas Eve ball was still officially on, then thrown himself into preparations. I had a feeling he was trying to keep himself from thinking about Alize leaving, and I understood his desire to put aside unpleasant thoughts with things that were nicer to think about.

  “Why not?” I asked, curious about her response to her father's announcement that it was time for us to dress for the ball.

  “If this is to be my last...” Her voice cracked. “I want...passer la Noël en famille.” She shook her head, and I could see her eyes shining with tears.

  “You will be with your father again,” Celina insisted, putting her hands on Alize's shoulders. “This will not be your final Noël with him.”

  “She's right,” I said. “He just wants you to be safe.”

  Alize chuckled, a harsh, bitter sound. “Yes. Safe, by leaving. By running away to the colonies. By leaving everyone I know and love.”

  “Everyone?” Celina's voice was soft, but it did what no argument on my part would've been able to accomplish.

  It got Alize's attention. She turned toward Celina, taking the young woman's hands in her own.

  “No, no, mon amour.” Alize brushed her lips across
Celina's. “Not everyone. Not as long as I have you. But am I wrong for not wanting to lose my home?”

  “Staying here could get you and the woman you love killed.” I hated having to be so blunt, but I knew it was probably the only thing that would get through to her.

  Alize paled, and I second-guessed my words, but only for a moment. Perhaps she needed to be scared into realizing that even though the prospect of traveling overseas was scary, her greatest fears were far more likely to become a reality if she remained in France.

  “Please, do not say that,” Alize murmured.

  “I have to,” I said, forcing my voice to stay gentle. “What lies ahead will most likely be uncomfortable for you, and much different than what you’ve experienced in the past, but you have a better chance of staying safe with Gracen and me than you do here.”

  “Gracen and Honor are good people,” Celina said. “We need to trust them.”

  Alize nodded and allowed Celina to embrace her. I smiled at them both as I slipped into the hall and headed down the hall to my room. I needed to get ready, and I wasn't looking forward to having to pile on all the layers. Especially the whole corset thing.

  Just the thought made my stomach roll.

  As soon as I came into the bedroom, I went straight to the bed and laid down, rolling onto my back. I stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, willing the nausea to pass. French food and anxiety weren't a good mix.

  “Honor,” Gracen spoke as the door opened. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah,” I said, swallowing, hoping I wouldn’t have to make a run for the wash basin.

  He suddenly appeared, looking down at me. “Are you certain? You look as if you are going to–”

  I jumped up, making it to the nearby basin just in time. He came behind me almost immediately, gathering my hair away from my face as I spit out the bile filling my mouth. Once I was sure I was done, I rinsed and then turned to my husband with a sigh.

  “How bad would it be if I used the stomach flu as an excuse to stay up here all night?” I groaned.

  He made a sympathetic sound as he put his arm around my waist and led me back to the bed. “You do what you need to do, my love. You must take care of yourself.”

  I felt a twinge of guilt as I considered crawling under the blankets and staying there all night. Then I shook it off and reminded myself why I was here, why I'd come to France with my husband.

  So I got up and filled a fresh basin with water as Gracen carried the other basin out of the room. By the time he returned, I was almost completely dressed, and the nausea in my stomach had settled. I took the rest of the time I needed to gather myself and was able to smile when Gracen held out his hand to me.

  The two of us made our way downstairs, ready to continue to schmooze and smile and pretend that everything was okay.

  The party appeared to be a success almost from moment one. Nearly forty people, none of whom we had to worry about betraying us to the English. And all of them already laughing and joking.

  It should have been calming, to finally be able to relax. Knowing that everyone here had the same political agenda. I could see Celina coaxing Alize into enjoying herself, even if only a little.

  None of them, however, had the same things at stake as Gracen and I did.

  “Do you see the three over by the balcony doors?” Alexandre asked as we waited for dinner to be called.

  Gracen nodded.

  “They are prepared to discuss stronghold provisions, as well as possibilities for evading any blockages the British navy sets up.”

  I surveyed the group of men, hoping that I wasn't being too obvious. Two of them looked just like the rest of the room’s occupants: stylishly dressed peacocks, enjoying their high stations in an opulent setting. I could only hope there was more grit than met the eye beneath those stuffy waistcoats and aristocratic gestures. Then again, it wasn't as if they themselves would be running blockades. They would be supplying the much-needed money from the safety of their homes.

  My attention, however, lingered on the third man. It took a few moments for me to place the reasons he stood out to me since his clothing, while not quite as impressive as his companions, still showed wealth. Possessing an air of superiority was by no means a novelty in this place, but this man’s aloofness seemed drastically exaggerated somehow. He wasn’t doing much talking, his dark eyes sharp as they scanned the room. When they landed on me, I barely suppressed a shiver, my instincts screaming at me to stay away from him. But I had a job to do. Besides, he was far from the first man to give me the creeps.

  Alexandre, Gracen, and I made our way over, my tension increasing with each step. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, but I forced a smile.

  “Monsieurs,” Alexandre greeted them warmly, and the men nodded in acknowledgment. “May I present Gracen and Honor Lightwood, visiting us from the American colonies. Gracen and Honor, Gulliory, Bellamy, and Faver.”

  Faver, he was the suspicious one. He remained silent except for a polite, heavily accented greeting, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that he was up to something. I didn't want to come out and accuse any of Alexandre's guests, but every soldier's instinct I had told me that this was not a good man. He had almost feminine-looking features, a generous mouth, the sort of features that would eventually be referred to as a “baby face.” It didn't do anything to lessen the edge I felt.

  “There are a number of things that I wish to discuss with you gentlemen,” Gracen began.

  For the first time, it didn't bother me that Gracen was the one who had to take the lead, even though I was the one with knowledge of the future. These men wouldn't listen to me, so I'd use that to my advantage, observe without really being seen.

  To my disappointment, I couldn't find anything of note about Faver, and certainly nothing that would explain the warning signals I kept getting. When we moved on, I tried to push my concerns away, dismissing them as paranoia brought on by my kidnapping, but I could feel Faver watching me as I walked. Drawing Gracen's attention to it when I had no proof wouldn't do any good.

  Still, the problem gnawed at me through the entire dinner, and afterward as everyone gathered in the ballroom. By then, my head was pounding and my stomach churning. While it was cold outside, the press of bodies in the room made it unbelievably stifling, which did nothing to help the cloying mixture of perfumes and body odor. I hadn't been there for more than a few minutes before I excused myself. If I didn't get some fresh air, I was going to be sick.

  I was halfway down the corridor before my stomach started to calm. Breathing was easier out here, but the constricting corset I wore still made it relatively difficult. Not for the first time, I found myself longing for a comfortable pair of jeans. I would've even taken one of those annoying strapless bras that I hated.

  “It is a nice night for a stroll, is it not, Madame Lightwood?”

  I stiffened, hoping that the strange voice belonged to one of the other two dozen men rather than the one my gut was telling me. I turned slowly, giving myself enough time to make my face a cordial mask.

  “Monsieur Faver, correct?”

  He nodded once, his eyes remaining on my face.

  “It is indeed a lovely night.” I glanced behind him on the off chance I'd see someone else coming this way, but the hallway was empty. “I was just taking some air before heading back in to find my husband.”

  “Ah, yes, your husband.”

  I didn't care for the way he said the word, or how one side of his mouth twisted into a grimace of a smile.

  “Monsieur Lightwood has quite a lot to say about the American colonies.”

  “He does,” I agreed. “And we would both be happy to speak with you at greater length regarding your take on things.”

  My mind raced. Faver hadn't done anything aggressive, but all sorts of warning bells were going off in my head, adrenaline flooding my system. I needed to get where there were more people.

  “Is that so?” The tone was tinged with
a mockery that made my mouth go dry.

  I remembered reading somewhere that some famous serial killer – Bundy or Dahmer maybe – had the sort of soft features that made people trust them. Faver, I thought, was like that.

  “Of course.” My cheeks were starting to hurt with the force of my smile. “Will you excuse me? My husband will be worrying about me.”

  Faver inclined his head and took half a step to the side. It wasn't enough for me to pass by without brushing up against him, but he was no longer completely blocking my way either. I'd take what I could get though.

  I was right next to him when his hand shot out and closed around my upper arm. I gave him a cold look as my pulse began to race, but he didn't acknowledge it.

  “Shall we go somewhere more private to have our discussion, Madame Lightwood?”

  “No.” The word came out small. I shook my head and pulled myself up straighter. “Let me go, Monsieur Faver.”

  “I do not think my employer would want me to do that,” he said. He pushed open the door next and dragged me after him.

  I was almost completely inside when my paralysis broke, and I started to struggle. I almost managed to pull myself free when Faver's hand cracked against my cheek.

  “Bastard!” I shouted as I used my free hand to strike him. The angle was bad, and I only managed to catch his shoulder. “Help!”

  Faver clamped a hand over my mouth and pulled me backwards, kicking the door closed behind him. “The music in the ballroom is too loud for anyone to hear you.”

  My heart sank as I realized he was right. I'd walked too far away. Unless someone was looking for me, I was in this alone. I needed to keep my head together.

  “If I remove my hand, will you stay quiet?”

  I nodded. I didn't have enough mobility in this dress to properly use the hand-to-hand combat skills I possessed, so I needed to take him off-guard, and to do that, I had to earn some trust. He let go of me and took a step back, keeping himself between me and the door.