Read Online The Winner's Crime by Marie Rutkoski - Free Book Online
Authors: Marie Rutkoski
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hope, her very
need to see someone that she was supposed to forget.
Arin had not come.
“I get that disappointed look all the time,” Tensen said
in a cheerful tone. “No one is ever excited to meet the min-
ister of agriculture.”
She fi nally focused on his face. His green eyes were
small but clever, his wrinkled skin darker than hers. “You
wrote me a letter.” Her voice sounded strained. “You said
that we had much to discuss.”
“Oh, yes.” Tensen waved a negligent hand. The lamp-
light traced the plain gold ring he wore. “We should talk
about the hearthnut harvest. Later.” His eyes slid slowly to
glance at the Valorian soldiers lining the hall, then met Kes-
trel’s gaze again and held it. “I could use your insight on a
few matters concerning Herran. But I’m an old man, my
lady, and very saddle sore. A little rest in the privacy of my
rooms is in order, I think. Perhaps you could show me where
they are?”
Kestrel didn’t miss his message. She wasn’t blind to the
way he had indicated that their conversation could be over-
heard, nor was she deaf to his coded invitation that they
—-1
could speak more freely in his guest suite. But she struggled
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against the pain in her throat, and said only, “Your ride
SKI
O
here was hard?”
“Yes.”
“And the snow. It’s falling already?”
“Yes, my lady.”
MARIE RUTK
“The mountain pass will close.”
“Yes,” Tensen said gently, and he saw too much. Kestrel
could tell that he heard that horrible note in her voice, and
that he recognized it as the sound of someone fi ghting
tears. “As expected,” he added.
But she hadn’t expected this: this stupid hope, this
punishing one, for who would long to see someone who was
already lost? What good would it have done?
None.
Apparently Arin knew this, too. He knew it better than
she, or his hope would have been equal to hers, and would
have driven him here.
Kestrel drew herself up straight. “You can fi nd your
rooms by yourself, Minister Tensen. I have more important
matters to attend to.”
She strode from the hall. The veined marble fl oor was
icy beneath her feet: a frozen lake with fractures she did not
care to see.
She walked, she did not care.
She did not.
Jess adjusted Kestrel’s ball gown, stepped back, cocked her
-1—
head, and peered. “You’re anxious,” Jess said, “aren’t you?
0—
64
Your face looks pinched.”
+1—
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“I didn’t sleep well last night.” This was true. Kestrel
had asked Jess to come early from her house in the city, and
CRIME
spend the night before the ball in Kestrel’s palace rooms.
’S
Kestrel and Jess had shared a bed, like they sometimes did
when they were little girls in Herran, and talked until the
lamp had burned all its oil. “You snored,” Kestrel said.
THE WINNER
“I did not .”
“You did. You snored so loudly that the people in my
dreams complained.”
Jess laughed, and Kestrel was glad for her silly little lie.
Laughter softened Jess’s face, fi lled the hollows of her cheeks.
It drew attention away from the dark rings beneath her
brown eyes. Jess never looked well. Not anymore, not since
she had been poisoned on the night of the Herrani rebel-
lion.
“I have something for you.” Jess opened her trunk and
lifted out a velvet bundle. “An engagement present.” Jess
unwrapped the bundle. “I made this for you.” The velvet
held a necklace of fl owers strung on a black ribbon, the
petals large, blown open, fashioned from sanded shards of
amber glass and thin curls of horn. The colors were muted,
but the fl owers’ size and spread made them almost feral.
Jess tied the ribbon around Kestrel’s neck. The fl owers
clicked against one another, sliding low to rest against
need to see someone that she was supposed to forget.
Arin had not come.
“I get that disappointed look all the time,” Tensen said
in a cheerful tone. “No one is ever excited to meet the min-
ister of agriculture.”
She fi nally focused on his face. His green eyes were
small but clever, his wrinkled skin darker than hers. “You
wrote me a letter.” Her voice sounded strained. “You said
that we had much to discuss.”
“Oh, yes.” Tensen waved a negligent hand. The lamp-
light traced the plain gold ring he wore. “We should talk
about the hearthnut harvest. Later.” His eyes slid slowly to
glance at the Valorian soldiers lining the hall, then met Kes-
trel’s gaze again and held it. “I could use your insight on a
few matters concerning Herran. But I’m an old man, my
lady, and very saddle sore. A little rest in the privacy of my
rooms is in order, I think. Perhaps you could show me where
they are?”
Kestrel didn’t miss his message. She wasn’t blind to the
way he had indicated that their conversation could be over-
heard, nor was she deaf to his coded invitation that they
—-1
could speak more freely in his guest suite. But she struggled
63
—0
—+1
135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 63
135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 63
9/25/14 2:52 PM
9/25/14 2:52 PM
against the pain in her throat, and said only, “Your ride
SKI
O
here was hard?”
“Yes.”
“And the snow. It’s falling already?”
“Yes, my lady.”
MARIE RUTK
“The mountain pass will close.”
“Yes,” Tensen said gently, and he saw too much. Kestrel
could tell that he heard that horrible note in her voice, and
that he recognized it as the sound of someone fi ghting
tears. “As expected,” he added.
But she hadn’t expected this: this stupid hope, this
punishing one, for who would long to see someone who was
already lost? What good would it have done?
None.
Apparently Arin knew this, too. He knew it better than
she, or his hope would have been equal to hers, and would
have driven him here.
Kestrel drew herself up straight. “You can fi nd your
rooms by yourself, Minister Tensen. I have more important
matters to attend to.”
She strode from the hall. The veined marble fl oor was
icy beneath her feet: a frozen lake with fractures she did not
care to see.
She walked, she did not care.
She did not.
Jess adjusted Kestrel’s ball gown, stepped back, cocked her
-1—
head, and peered. “You’re anxious,” Jess said, “aren’t you?
0—
64
Your face looks pinched.”
+1—
135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 64
135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 64
9/25/14 2:52 PM
9/25/14 2:52 PM
“I didn’t sleep well last night.” This was true. Kestrel
had asked Jess to come early from her house in the city, and
CRIME
spend the night before the ball in Kestrel’s palace rooms.
’S
Kestrel and Jess had shared a bed, like they sometimes did
when they were little girls in Herran, and talked until the
lamp had burned all its oil. “You snored,” Kestrel said.
THE WINNER
“I did not .”
“You did. You snored so loudly that the people in my
dreams complained.”
Jess laughed, and Kestrel was glad for her silly little lie.
Laughter softened Jess’s face, fi lled the hollows of her cheeks.
It drew attention away from the dark rings beneath her
brown eyes. Jess never looked well. Not anymore, not since
she had been poisoned on the night of the Herrani rebel-
lion.
“I have something for you.” Jess opened her trunk and
lifted out a velvet bundle. “An engagement present.” Jess
unwrapped the bundle. “I made this for you.” The velvet
held a necklace of fl owers strung on a black ribbon, the
petals large, blown open, fashioned from sanded shards of
amber glass and thin curls of horn. The colors were muted,
but the fl owers’ size and spread made them almost feral.
Jess tied the ribbon around Kestrel’s neck. The fl owers
clicked against one another, sliding low to rest against
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