A House Divided (Astoran Asunder, book 1) by Nicole Ciacchella Page A
Authors: Nicole Ciacchella
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wouldn't get back to the Elders. It might be foolish of her, but if she was going to talk to anyone, he seemed the best candidate.
"Why did you come to me?" he asked. He poured the tea but kept an eye on her as he did so.
Accepting the cup he handed her, she wrapped her hands around it, warming them. "You're an outsider. You've been away from Cearova and the trade Houses' influence for some time, and even when you were last here, you weren't subject to their influence."
"How do you know?" he asked, seizing his turn to be blunt.
She would give him the truth, all of it, even if it didn't paint much of a flattering portrait of her. "I followed you. I listened. I went places I wasn't supposed to go."
"And still do, I'd wager." He lifted his brows.
"Yes, I still do," she admitted. "And that's why I'm here. I don't have any evidence to lay at your feet, but something is off. Something has been off since before Toran's death." Her voice cracked as she said his name, and she swallowed. Sipping her tea, she tried to collect herself. The scent of it, the fondly remembered spice and vanilla flavor, helped soothe her.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't believe Toran would have done this to himself. He showed no signs of any such inclination. Things were going well for him. The Elders put great stock in his advice. He made it his business to learn everything there was to know about trade conditions. He developed advantageous connections within House Mallay and House Rolland, gathering all the data he could find. His recommendations as to which goods our ships ought to carry earned Staerleigh—and, by extension, the other Houses—a great deal of money."
"Professional success doesn't equate with happiness," Kila said. He wasn't questioning her, but he was challenging her to consider all the angles and to offer proof to back her argument, making it clear she had his full attention.
"No, it doesn't, but I mean to illustrate that he had no reason to be despondent on that point. All indications were that his star would continue to rise."
"Very well. But what about his personal affairs?"
"Again, I can think of no reason why he might have been depressed. He was almost universally loved in the House, and not just because of his business acumen. He was one of the kindest people I knew, and he was blessed with the type of disposition that prompted him to find the bright side of every situation, and the good in everyone. Moreover, Lach had just returned from a long voyage."
"He was close with his son?"
"Yes, very. Lach's return was a surprise. He wasn't due back for a couple of weeks, but he said conditions were favorable and he had a very profitable journey. Toran would have wanted to celebrate that fact with him. He was delighted to see his son and thrilled about Lach's success, which he cared more about than his own."
"He had aspirations for his son?"
"Everyone does," Cianne said, her voice tightening. "Lach is House Staerleigh's golden son."
"I was under the impression you were friends with him," Kila said, studying her.
"We are, I think. I don't know. It's a complicated situation," she said. To her horror, she felt her cheeks blaze. How could she possibly explain the situation to him? It was awkward beyond endurance, and she hadn't managed to make sense of it herself.
She didn't love Lach, that she knew, not in the passionate, all-consuming manner of lovers. As a friend, yes, but she was devoid of any physical or emotional desire for him.
That wasn't the case for him. Cianne knew he desired her, and the knowledge of it was a constant torment. He cared for her, of that she was certain, but she wasn't certain his feelings for her could survive the blow she would have to deal them. He carried a blazing torch for her, everyone could see that, and she didn't know how he would react when she extinguished it. She desperately wanted to believe the best of her friend, desperately wanted to rest in the assurance that, like his father's,
"Why did you come to me?" he asked. He poured the tea but kept an eye on her as he did so.
Accepting the cup he handed her, she wrapped her hands around it, warming them. "You're an outsider. You've been away from Cearova and the trade Houses' influence for some time, and even when you were last here, you weren't subject to their influence."
"How do you know?" he asked, seizing his turn to be blunt.
She would give him the truth, all of it, even if it didn't paint much of a flattering portrait of her. "I followed you. I listened. I went places I wasn't supposed to go."
"And still do, I'd wager." He lifted his brows.
"Yes, I still do," she admitted. "And that's why I'm here. I don't have any evidence to lay at your feet, but something is off. Something has been off since before Toran's death." Her voice cracked as she said his name, and she swallowed. Sipping her tea, she tried to collect herself. The scent of it, the fondly remembered spice and vanilla flavor, helped soothe her.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't believe Toran would have done this to himself. He showed no signs of any such inclination. Things were going well for him. The Elders put great stock in his advice. He made it his business to learn everything there was to know about trade conditions. He developed advantageous connections within House Mallay and House Rolland, gathering all the data he could find. His recommendations as to which goods our ships ought to carry earned Staerleigh—and, by extension, the other Houses—a great deal of money."
"Professional success doesn't equate with happiness," Kila said. He wasn't questioning her, but he was challenging her to consider all the angles and to offer proof to back her argument, making it clear she had his full attention.
"No, it doesn't, but I mean to illustrate that he had no reason to be despondent on that point. All indications were that his star would continue to rise."
"Very well. But what about his personal affairs?"
"Again, I can think of no reason why he might have been depressed. He was almost universally loved in the House, and not just because of his business acumen. He was one of the kindest people I knew, and he was blessed with the type of disposition that prompted him to find the bright side of every situation, and the good in everyone. Moreover, Lach had just returned from a long voyage."
"He was close with his son?"
"Yes, very. Lach's return was a surprise. He wasn't due back for a couple of weeks, but he said conditions were favorable and he had a very profitable journey. Toran would have wanted to celebrate that fact with him. He was delighted to see his son and thrilled about Lach's success, which he cared more about than his own."
"He had aspirations for his son?"
"Everyone does," Cianne said, her voice tightening. "Lach is House Staerleigh's golden son."
"I was under the impression you were friends with him," Kila said, studying her.
"We are, I think. I don't know. It's a complicated situation," she said. To her horror, she felt her cheeks blaze. How could she possibly explain the situation to him? It was awkward beyond endurance, and she hadn't managed to make sense of it herself.
She didn't love Lach, that she knew, not in the passionate, all-consuming manner of lovers. As a friend, yes, but she was devoid of any physical or emotional desire for him.
That wasn't the case for him. Cianne knew he desired her, and the knowledge of it was a constant torment. He cared for her, of that she was certain, but she wasn't certain his feelings for her could survive the blow she would have to deal them. He carried a blazing torch for her, everyone could see that, and she didn't know how he would react when she extinguished it. She desperately wanted to believe the best of her friend, desperately wanted to rest in the assurance that, like his father's,
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