Code of Thieves by Elaine Brown (best e ink reader for manga .TXT) 📕

be welcome to stay as long as you see fit, my lord.” My words seemed tepid even to my own ears.
“Then I shall wait impatiently until next me meet,” he said, brushing his lips lightly against my skin for the second time, and disappearing down the corridor to follow the page.
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The Duke's chambers were several corridors and doors away from the Grand Hall. With the lightest rapping on the door, the softest permission of entry was uttered from within. Miach slowly entered, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room; as the Grand Hall had been filled with open windows and sunlight, the darkness was nearly overwhelming. Every window was covered by a thick curtain, the only light coming from the blazing fire in the hearth. The Duke stood to greet the lord, gesturing regally for him to take his place across from the master of the house, near the licking flames. With a bow of his head, Miach complied and sat with his hands clasped in his lap, obscuring the bandages from view.
The Duke spoke; “I trust your journey was pleasant? What news of my friend, your father?”
Miach lowered his eyes politely, staring into the fire. “Yes, quite pleasant, thank you; it is always a pleasure to be called upon by our companions of Aviena Manor. There is little news of my father, I fear. He has been campaigning in the east since winter and few messengers have arrived since then.”
“My sympathy; your father is a great man, and strong; I do not doubt his return.” The Duke motioned for a servant to fill the wine glasses that rested, waiting for use, on the small stand beside him. When the boy had gone once more, he continued. “I fear I am not in my usual state of mind; there have been tensions between Aviena and our neighbors, Liad and Carnell, to the west.”
Shaking his head lamentably, Miach raised his eyes and met Cerid's cool stare levelly. “These are harsh times we live in, with the death of the Sovereign King drawing nigh; many a small king and man have become doubtful.”
Pleased, the Duke nodded his head slightly in approval. “Tempers are boiling, the times of peace will soon see their end, I believe.”
“I fear that your words ring with truth, Your Grace, and before his campaigning my father held the subject with grim solemnity.”
“As well he should, Miach; times of war are dark for dukes and small kings as well as for the peasants and simple-folk.” Cerid sipped at his wine distractedly.
The Duke's comment was very directly aimed at himself and Lord Ganior's father. As the leader of Aviena, Cerid had adopted the title of Duke as opposed to King. The higher power, known as the Sovereign King, held together all of the small countries in one grand alliance; this “alliance” was known as the Sovereign Kingdom. Separated by name only, each country had a different, high standing figure to enforce the Sovereign King's will. Lord Ganior the elder, or Miach's father, had adopted the title of King, but of course still remained loyal to his betters. Ganior was widely recognized as the largest and strongest of the small countries, although in truth its size was only fourth greatest. Aviena was of the smallest countries, only surpassing the size of its neighbors Liad and Carnell. But tensions were high within this unity of countries; ambitious men in the Sovereign Kingdom had begun to muster their courage as the King's health began to fail. Very soon all hell was sure to break loose and the Kingdom would begin to divide.
Miach's answering smile was bittersweet . “Indeed, the future does not strike me as particularly bright.”
The amusement died from Cerid's eyes and his brows lowered to darken his features. “It is so; what is worse is that the future belongs not to your father nor to me, but to thee and Iris and your generation.”
His comment had not been meant to offend, merely to illustrate how the inexperienced were to suffer harsher times than those who had been through it before and who knew how to survive. Understanding this, Miach answered truthfully, “I do not wish to be a king in these times, and I delight in thinking that my father will outlive the days of darkness.”
Cerid's eyes continued to darken with thought, and it seemed he had heard none of Lord Ganior's words. Suddenly, the Avishian Duke cleared his throat and stood to face the hearth. “Forgive me for rushing past such subjects, however now we must be on the topic of why I sent for you; I wish not to delay you any more than need be. You have no doubt been welcomed graciously by my daughter?”
Amused, Miach's thoughts drifted back to the discontented young lady he had left in the Hall; he allowed himself a small smile as he stifled a chuckle. He thought of how, though there were fewer words between them than between himself and her father, she spoke much more prettily. Her speech, he thought, also held a modesty that was rare in those brought up as an only child in a Duke's household; she had no doubt been spoiled, but he could see she had not enjoyed it. The fact that she had known how to properly bandage his hand was proof of this; young ladies were not taught medicine, so she must have been rebelling. Finally, he managed to say, confused and tense, “Very graciously, thank you.”
The Duke spread his hands gallantly and smiled widely, a smile that looked too fake to be commented upon; “I am glad! At the risk of being too forward, I must ask if she was appealing to you?”
Rubbing the back of his neck with his bandaged hand and shrinking slightly into the plush, high-backed seat, Miach attempted a sincere tone; “You must be proud of her, Your Grace, she has a great deal of beauty and charm as her allies.”
Cerid rushed on with a wave of his hand, barely paying attention to the younger lord; “Yes, yes, she has been greatly blessed. As you know, Ganior and Aviena have been allied for many a year and–I do not doubt Ganior's loyalty, mind you–I would have it that we be bound by blood. Iris is of the age that she should be properly married, and yet she is not. She nears sixteen years, and yet no worthy suitor has presented himself. If I am not too forward, I would like to offer you her hand, Miach, if you would have want of it.”
Miach blinked, taken aback, and barely managed to keep his jaw from going slack; it would not do to offend the Duke. “Your Grace, I would be honored, but still I must ask; does the girl have any warning of this, have you her consent?”
Eyes narrowing ever so slightly, enthusiasm ebbing a bit, the Duke answered, “It is a father's place to decide a match, boy, but I shall answer you regardless. No, she has not been addressed with such matters. If it pleases you, win her affections; woo her, do as you like, but before you leave my household I demand an answer.”
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When I returned to my chambers, Brighid was sitting statuesque with a large volume in her hand. I had little time to indulge thoughts of Miach before she had me by the wrist and was pulling me down beside her. She dropped the book heavily onto the table and set shining eyes on me; an odd expression of halfhearted contempt and sheer excitement warred on her face. Softly, she scolded me for being late to my lesson in etiquette and inquired as to the “reception of our precious guest.”
I sat rigidly, recoiling slightly from the clammy, uncomfortably moist grip. Promptly informing her that the lord seemed unaffected by the mishap, that he seemed quite content to drop the subject, I allowed her to imagine the details. Not wanting to share my odd suspicions with my least favorite tutor, I answered her questions vaguely. The more questions I answered, the lower her brows came, creating a fierce furrow and frowning wrinkles across her forehead. I gave away nothing, eventually her frustration and impatience won out, and I was speedily subjected to hours of lessons. These lessons only worsened my gloomy mood, for they were an omen of my father's arrangements for the time we would be sharing with Lord Ganior.
Every lesson was of the etiquette and mannerisms of a ball.

Chapter II: Gatherings and Partings

I sat on the edge of his bed, straight backed and hands folded lightly in my lap. At first, Reg had eyed me disapprovingly when I had appeared at the threshold of his room, requesting entrance. Only after he had seen the distress in my gaze did he step aside to let me pass. It had been two days since my encounter with Lord Ganior, and I had just discovered the reason for Airmid's absence; she had been recovering in the servants quarters after being found unconscious in the courtyard. I was surprised that she had not been let go, but was glad of it and protested when the solution presented itself. Steady anger flowed from me towards the suspicious Lord Ganior and I avoided him rigorously.
And so I sat quietly, taking comfort in Reg's presence and the fact that I would not be found as long as I stayed put in his room. Silently he went about his business, as if I had never entered into his presence. He seemed to sense my foul mood, for he refrained from scolding me about the inappropriateness of a lady such as myself being alone with a man in his room. I watched him from under my lashes, trying to make sense of his silence. As he disappeared behind his dressing screen I heard him utter a curse beneath his breath. I heard him shuffling unsteadily before he regained his footing; I assumed that he had caught his heel on the corner of the screen. From my vantage point on the bed, I could see the screen wobbling uncertainly. There was the ruffle of fabric rubbing against itself as he changed, and then the bang of wood on stone as the screen fell to the floor. The image left in its wake was that of Reg, wide eyed, half shirtless, with his arms above his head and his tunic about his wrists.
I giggled at the sight of him, but broke into full laughter when I tried to contain my amusement. His embarrassment turned to a smoldering glare and he threw the tunic aside. Quickly, luridly, he crossed the room and rounded the edge of the bed; he stopped in front of me and leaned forward, placing his hands on the bed to either side of me. I was suddenly very aware of his bare skin, his toned arms and stomach, his lean muscles. Taking in a sharp, short breath, I ceased my laughter. Surrounded by him, I kept my gaze glued to his face. His face was close to mine, but his expression was still bemused. Infuriatingly, all he said was, “This is why it is inappropriate for young heiresses to be unaccompanied within the chambers of a man.”
Attempting to steady my ragged breathing I glared back at him. “And you are very normally my escort, so I see no trouble.”
With a sideways glance at me, he stepped away, chest rising and falling heavily. Swiftly, embarrassment returning, he snatched up his new shirt and tugged it roughly over his head.I stared down at my hands, white knuckled and clasped in my lap, and pondered over my strange reaction. Of course this had not been my first encounter with a bare-chested Reg; on sweltering days I