"I'm sure he suspects. If I'd told him, though, he wouldn't have been able to hire me." He shifted and patted Tova. "My hope was that if I proved myself, he would plead my case with his father and allow me merchant caste. That is looking increasingly unlikely."
"So you're leaving. I can understand that."
His head whipped up. "No--I mean, yes, I'm leaving, but only because I don't believe I can be of any further service to either of you."
They sat in silence before Ashyn said, "I could strenuously argue that we still need you, but if I do, then I pull you away from your family again. There is only one duty higher than one's duty to the empire, and that is one's duty to family."
"I'm not concerned with duty, Ash."
"The point remains. We could use your protection, but your brother and sister need--and deserve--it more."
"My protection?" Now the smile turned bitter. "Ask Guin how she fared under my protection. Ask my--" He cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head and got to his feet.
Ashyn scrambled up with him. "If you blame yourself for Guin--"
"I blame myself for a lack of care," he said. "A lack of attention. True, it's not as if I told her to volunteer herself. Nor would I have allowed it if I'd known. But the fact remains. I was careless. As I always am."
"You are never--"
He cut her off with a kiss on the cheek. "Go to bed, Ash. It'll be a hard ride tomorrow, and I want to make it to the inn before sundown."
She watched him walk away. She glanced at Tova, who was watching him, too. The hound looked up at her, as if in question.
"Ronan?" She jogged after him and caught his sleeve. "Tell me what you mean, that you are always careless."
He looked at her, and there was such sadness there that she moved forward, wanting to kiss his cheek, to embrace him, to offer some comfort for whatever put that sadness in his eyes. But she didn't move. Didn't dare.
"You can talk to me," she said. "About anything."
"I know." He touched her face, one finger tracing a line down her jaw, and he leaned forward, as if to kiss her, but stopped short, turning away, his hand dropping.
"I'm too tired t
o talk, Ash," he said, his voice soft, gentle. "Another time."
"I--"
He squeezed her hand. "Truly, we will talk. Just not now. I'll scout the perimeter while you prepare for bed." He kissed her again, a mere brush of his lips on her cheek. Then he walked away, and she could not bring herself to give chase.
FORTY-EIGHT
Ronan hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said it would be a hard ride. They were heading west, toward the mountains. Soon Ashyn was wishing for the empty desolation of the Wastes. At least the lava fields were flat. Toward the imperial city, the land was mixed plain and wilderness, but the woods there were usually sparse, confined to pockets where farmers and settlers hadn't chopped them down. Here, as the population dwindled, there were places where the road seemed barely a scar in the wilderness.
She could see the mountains in the distance. They reminded her of Gavril. His family had been imperials since before his birth, but they would still have relatives there and allies, too. Did that include allies like the Okami clan, whose compound they were nearing even now?
Ronan didn't dismiss her fears, but he didn't change his plans either, probably because he had no intention of entering the compound itself until Tyrus escorted them there. They found the inn, made camp in the forest, and then went in for dinner.
The inns they'd visited on the road may have been rough, but they were still intended to host travelers--often noble ones--heading to the imperial city. This particular road ended at Lord Okami's compound. The inn was for tradesmen, but also, Ashyn suspected, for those who might have cause to make such inhospitable land their home: poachers, mercenaries, and brigands.
The man at the table beside theirs bore the tattoo of a convict from the imperial city. It was two unconnected marks now, but if he committed a third crime, lines would be added to complete the symbol for "swine." The former convict sat at the table with an elderly woman who looked as if she'd stepped from the imperial court fifty summers ago, with white hair reaching to the floor and teeth yellowed from a lifetime of blackening. This was, in short, not the sort of place Ashyn had ever expected to visit, which made it all the more fascinating.
Ronan had helped her reapply the henna. They'd learned it worked best with a light touch, one that made her look like Moria after a long summer exploring the Wastes with Daigo. Once inside the inn, though, Ashyn wondered if they'd needed to bother. It was colder in this region, with the thick forest and higher elevation, and inadequate ventilation from the blazing fire left the room so smoke filled that she swore she could pull down her hood and no one would even note the color of her hair.
There were few women in the inn, but the men there--rough as they were--seemed inclined to take as little notice of her as possible, as if to do so might suggest an interest that wasn't safe so close to the warlord's compound.
Ronan confirmed that. "Lord Okami is known as a harsh man. He tolerates this rabble on his doorstep--even encourages them--because they're valuable allies for a man living in such a wild place. In return, though, they must keep their activities far enough from his lands that merchants and artisans won't fear to travel here."
Ronan motioned to the serving girl and ordered rice wine. After a long day's ride, Ashyn could see the attraction, but she was better warmed--and calmed--by a pot of tea. The girl brought it with a date-stuffed sweet roll.