Chapter Twenty-Seven

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Niccola ran into Verde midway up the stairs, just as he was coming down again.

He stopped, stunned. "Niccola? What are you doing here?"

"We're both here."

She could see from the way his expression sobered that he knew who she was talking about. Their "courting" must have been the talk of the town since they'd started it. Nothing could make Niccola feel more out of touch with the lowlands, an uncomfortable feeling she wasn't quite prepared for.

"Finally got him out, did you?" said Verde quietly. He glanced over her shoulder towards the kitchen, then beckoned her upstairs. "Hope you two don't mind sharing a bedroom; Judith's just moved out, so we've got a spare with one bed and one with two. I imagine you'll be wanting the two-bed. Unless..."

He paused on the staircase and gave her an incisive look from beneath furrowed, bushy brows. Niccola could not resist a smile, nor letting a touch of smugness leak into it. They had indeed shared a bed already.

Verde huffed. "Knew there was a reason he was so smitten with you."

"Not in the manner most people would think."

"'Course not. We practically raised the boy; we know."

"Then you might as well know that I am the same way." Niccola followed him the rest of the way up the stairs. "Two beds would be ideal, though. I do not know if I could pull off last night again."

Verde grunted. "Get locked up in the palace, did you?"

It was telling that that was his first guess, rather than her staying voluntarily. It made Niccola wonder just how long Isaiah had been stuck beneath his mother's thumb—and just how much she still didn't know. She didn't answer, but Verde didn't seem to need a reply. He took her to a linens cupboard, loaded a change of sheets unceremoniously into her arms, and took a second load himself. They set about preparing the room together.

"I don't suppose you came to find me for no reason," said Verde without looking over when Niccola shut the door.

Niccola grinned. "That would be out of character, now, wouldn't it?" The jest drew a small smile from Verde, but it dropped as Niccola's did. "First of all, why are the townsfolk on edge?"

"There's been another body found. Same as the last."

Niccola's skin crawled. If Dinah was no longer taking care to hide this carnage, she must be nearing her end game.

"I take it you know more than you're telling me," said Verde.

"I don't know how much is safe to tell."

"Then best not to tell it." He tucked a sheet-corner with crisp finality. "I trust you to keep a level head on such matters. More so than most Calisian folk. Or common folk in general."

Niccola froze, half-cased pillow in hand.

"Isaiah told us who you were," said Verde, shooting her a raised eyebrow. He went back to making the bed. "Put my mind at ease, if I'm honest with you. Diversity of thought makes for a stronger partnership, and you match his authority besides—you know politics. I might not know what's lurking in that there Talakova, but I suspect it's something you'll want that sort of teamwork on."

There was an assuredness in his words that Niccola often heard from long-married people. Verde and Margaret's partnership stood at forty-three years, he'd been proud to tell Niccola the first time they'd met. The mention of teamwork in this case, though, struck oddly. Verde spoke like he expected the two of them to stay together, though Niccola's plans ran so differently. Those plans were under question, but had by no means conclusively changed.

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