She caught the look in his downcast eyes. The anxiety and the worry, and she realized what he meant.
You have someone there. A girl. You left a girl, a lover, and now she thinks you're dead, and you're anxious to get back and show her that you are not.
It made a romantic tale. The young rogue, cheating death, returning to his grieving lover. But in reality . . . ? Ashyn had always known that life did not resemble one of her book stories or Moria's bard tales, and yet there'd been part of her that hoped it did. The more she saw, the more she realized she was wrong. People made up those stories because it's what they wanted from their world. A place where goodness, kindness, and honor were rewarded. They were not rewarded. The people of Edgewood could attest to that.
Would Ronan's lover be waiting for him? There was a tiny part of Ashyn that wanted to point out the futility of that hope and the almost certain disappointment that lay ahead. The same tiny part that realized he had someone, and felt the crush of those words. A tiny part that wondered why he'd not mentioned it, and suspected it was because Ashyn would be more susceptible to his charm and his flirting--and more likely to argue that he deserved a reward--if he did not say he had a lover in the city. That was, she supposed, unfair and rather petty, but she thought it nonetheless before pushing all that aside to say, with conviction.
"Then you should go. If you can find a way to let someone in the city know what has happened . . ."
"I will."
Thirty-nine
As hard as Ashyn tried, she could not quite shake the lingering hurt over Ronan's . . . betrayal certainly wasn't the right word. Even abandonment felt too harsh. Just hurt, then, not so much that he was leaving, but that his agreement seemed to come so easily.
Still, she'd help him. That was the honorable thing to do. Assist him in any way she could. Be happy that at least one of them escaped.
She suggested a plan and he agreed to it. After breakfast, he gathered what food he could carry and took a makeshift bag he'd devised. Then he went up into the rafters while she took Tova to the door.
She rapped on it. The guard heard her--she'd knocked loudly enough--but he didn't answer. She rapped harder and said, "My hound requires meat."
The door opened then, the guard peeking in, his face screwed up as if he'd misheard.
"There was no meat with breakfast," she said, "save some pickled fish."
His face screwed up more. It didn't help that she'd spoken softly. Intentionally so, though her voice was never loud at any time. Now she stepped back and motioned at Tova.
"He cannot stomach pickled fish. He requires meat. Preferably fresh, though he'd settle for anything you have. Even fish, if it's not pickled."
The guard was one of the villagers. A warrior, given his dual blades. Not a high-ranking one--he bore no tattoos--but that was to be expected from a village guard. He was perhaps as old as her father, and she'd like to think that when he looked on her, there was kindness in his eyes, as if he might have a daughter her age. The kindness was, of course, rightfully tempered by caution and a touch of sardonic humor.
"Let me guess, Seeker," he said. "You would like me to go and fetch you some meat, leaving the door unguarded."
No, I want to hold your attention while Ronan escapes across the roof.
She smiled. "That would be nice, but I know you won't be so foolish. I simply want meat for my hound. His stomach has been grumbling, and I'm concerned. He requires more exercise than he's been receiving--and, no, I'm not asking to take him for walks. I understand our limitations. I only request that when the girls come to take our breakfast trays, you tell them to bring meat."
"All right, then, Seeker," he said. "Since you've asked nicely and haven't played any tricks--"
The guard pitched forward. He fell into Ashyn, and something hit the floor on either side of him. Pieces of a roof tile. Ronan stood behind him holding a second one, ready to smash it over the guard's head, but he was already on the floor, unconscious.
"Haven't lost the knack," Ronan said with a grin. "Come on, then. We need to pull him inside
and go."
Ashyn stared at him.
"I saw an opportunity," he said. "Now quickly. Before someone comes."
Ashyn helped him drag the guard the rest of the way inside. They went out and closed the door.
"That way," Ronan said, pointing to a building across the way. "I could see from the roof and it's clear over--"
"Going somewhere, Seeker?"
Barthol rounded the corner, two of his men flanking him. Ashyn wheeled to see two more coming in the other direction. She looked straight ahead, where they'd planned to run.
"Go!" she whispered to Ronan. "They want me."