“And some hot water,” I interjected, desperate for some kind of bathing.
“Of course. That’ll be three and twenty.”
I tried not to gape at the outrageous costs, knowing we were deliberately being ripped off because of how desperate we looked. I looked at Wolfe but the only sign he gave of being annoyed was the slight tension in his jaw.
“Two and twenty,” he haggled and I raised my eyebrows as the barkeep laughed.
“I don’t think so, lad. Three silver pieces.”
“Two and fifty.”
The bar keep shook his head still laughing. “Well you are a funny one, lad. Alright, two and ninety.”
Amazed, I watched as Wolfe shook his head again. “Two and seventy.”
“You’re robbing me.” The barkeep shook a finger at us, still seeming amused. “But fine.”
Wolfe handed over the money and took the key, and he almost dragged me out of the barroom and up the stairs.
“Are you trying to pull my arm out of the socket?” I snapped as we stumbled up the stairs and onto the landing. Still Wolfe refused to slow down until he had the door open. He hauled me inside, slamming the door shut with the heel of his boot.
“I was trying to get you out of the bar before I had to fight those bloody men over you.”
My eyes widened at his comment as he strode towards the fire in the room and set about lighting it. The room was small, with only a double bed - I noticed with a strange thump of my heart - but it was clean. “What are you talking about?”
Wolfe snorted. “These people have been left to live in squalor for too long. We should have known about this. Instead we sit on our plush cushions in Silvera, thinking the world outside happy and adoring and at peace. This isn’t peace,” he spat, pointing outside the window as he turned to glare at me. “Where have we been, Rogan? We’ve let our people come to this and we dare to look down our noses at them. Those men haven’t seen anything as fine as you in a long time and I was making bloody sure we were out of there as fast as possible before they took it upon themselves to have you.”
I shuddered at the thought. “I didn’t notice.” I shook my head wearily, falling down onto the bed. “I look a mess.”
Wolfe sighed and looked away, provoking the fire to life. “Wearing rags you would still carry yourself like a lady. You have the skin of a lady.”
Ignoring the silly flutter in the pit of my belly that he had noticed anything about me, I tried to enforce our old dynamic and retorted stupidly, “I’m not a lady, Captain. I’m a farm girl.”
Wolfe stood up and strode towards me, his eyebrow arched. “You’ve been raised a lady, Rogan. That makes you one.”
I rolled my eyes at him, but before I could retort with some smartass comment a knock sounded on the door. The barkeep’s wife arrived with two barmaids. They left us food, clothing and hot water, and quickly left, the girls throwing wide-eyed looks at Wolfe, hiding giggles behind their hands. Clearly, they too had never seen anyone like Wolfe before. After all, he really was a Lord, and carried himself like a gentleman. He didn’t seem to notice their attentions and as soon as the door closed he locked it. Without really looking at me, he picked up the dress they had brought me and threw it towards me. “Get cleaned up and dressed. There’s a screen behind you.”
I tried to quell the flutters in my belly at the thought of stripping na**d in the same room as Wolfe. Determinedly, I walked around to the back of the changing screen.
“There must be some stationary in here,” Wolfe muttered and I heard him pulling at drawers and rummaging. At his sound of triumph I suddenly felt a relief that we could get a message to the Guard. It had been a number of days since we’d been taken in Ryl and strangely I missed the comforting presence of Lieutenant Chaeron and the rest of the men.
A crash sounded from downstairs and I jumped, my dress falling to the floor. “What on haven…?”
Wolfe grunted as yells followed more crashing. “Tavern brawl.”
A tavern brawl? Dear haven, we were far away from home weren’t we. “Oh,” I managed and tried to relax at the sound of Wolfe’s pen leisurely scratching against paper. If he didn’t seem too concerned then I wasn’t going to be.
My undergarments were in desperate need of a wash and I peeled them off with a sigh of relief. I’d just have to leave them here and make do with the rough blue dress the barkeep’s wife had brought me. It would scratch my skin but I’d rather that than have to put dirty undergarments back on. I draped them over the top of the screen, vaguely aware that the scratching of pen against paper in the background had stopped. Taking the cloth and hot water I gave myself a quick scrub down, trying to be fast so the water wouldn’t be too cold when Wolfe got around to using it. After a moment or so I thought I heard Wolfe make a strangled sound and then the scratching of pen against paper started up again.
“Nearly done,” I told him, thinking perhaps he was getting impatient with me. I drew on the blue dress, a demure, work-worn thing, but it was clean and surprisingly not too rough against my skin. I’d be colder without my undergarments but I thought perhaps I could get Wolfe to procure a cloak for me.
When I stepped out Wolfe was staring at the screen as if in a daydream.
“You better hurry,” I said taking my undergarments off the screen and rolling them into a ball. “The water’s getting cold.”
He nodded, his lips pinched tightly together, and he brushed past me, barely sparing me a glance. I arched an eyebrow at his behaviour but said nothing, having now given up on trying to understand anything about Wolfe Stovia.
Speaking of which…
I tucked into the food that had been left, my trembling stomach glad for the energy boost, and waited as Wolfe, once clean and changed into a rough looking pair of trousers, shirt and waistcoat, ate his meal. Then I couldn’t stand it anymore. We were both sitting by the fire, enjoying the peace of the moment, and I couldn’t stop myself from ruining it.
“So you’re a Glava?” I asked quietly, even though there really was no question of it.
Wolfe stiffened immediately and turned slightly to glare at me. When he made no reply I grew irritated.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I don’t want to talk about,” he dismissed me, getting up and taking coverings from the bed to make a pallet on the floor.
“Seriously?” I jumped to my feet. “You just destroyed an entire gypsy camp and you don’t want to talk about it?!”
“No, I don’t.”
How could he possibly expect me to just let something like this go? “How can you expect me to trust you when you’ve lied about this?”
Wolfe snorted and finally glanced over at me. “You don’t trust me anyway, Lady Rogan.”
I ignored that, especially because it might be true, and snapped, “I demand to know, Captain Stovia.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you demand to know. I’m tired and I’m going to get some sleep. You should too.”
But I wasn’t quite ready to give up yet, so good at pressing people’s buttons. “The Princezna will be so eager to hear that a mage was living in Silvera all this time and he didn’t see fit to tell us.”
This time I stumbled back under the force of Wolfe’s severe look. “You better keep this to yourself, Rogan.”
My eyes flashed at his tone, my hands going to my h*ps in a stance of defiance. “Are you threatening me?” I growled in disgust. The words were out before I could stop them, “Dear haven, you are just like your father!”
I’d never seen Wolfe move so fast. One moment he was on the other side of the room, the next he was inches from me, his large hands gripping my upper arms, shaking me hard for what I had said. His eyes were white and his face mottled red with a rage I’d thought I’d only ever felt. “I’m nothing like my father!” He bellowed. “Nothing!”
I flinched, terrified by this side of him, going pale under the fury directed at me. Seeing my startled and wary expression, Wolfe cursed and let me go, his hands visibly trembling as he stumbled away from me.
Not knowing what to do, my heart pounding in my chest, my cheeks burning, I just stood there as he bedded down on the floor. The silence was so thick, so uneasy, I’m sure someone intruding in on us wouldn’t have been able to breathe under the weight of it.
“You better get some sleep,” Wolfe broke the silence, in a quiet defeated voice that made me feel guilty for some strange inexplicable reason. Surprised that my legs could move after what had occurred, I ran over to the bed and slid under the sheet that he’d left me. At the sound of movement on the floor I turned and watched as Wolfe searched for something. His hands finally found his trousers and he delved into the pocket and pulled something out.
“Here.” He turned to me and threw something white and papery up onto the bed. “Thought you might want those back.”
Frowning, curious, I reached over and picked up the item.
It was the paper bag with the bracelets for Haydyn and I.
“How did you…?” I asked softly, unsure of the feeling constricting my throat.
“You dropped them in the alley. I picked them up before they drugged me. They seemed important when you were buying them.”
A sharp pain shot across my chest and I held in a noise of distress. Wolfe had been with me the entire time at the market. Why had he taken the time to rescue the cheap little bracelets that only meant something to me? How had he known that they were important? I shuddered and rolled over, fighting back tears, wishing that the man on the floor could stay black and white… the way he had always been to me. He was the last man in Phaedra I should ever trust, should ever feel anything toward.
But those shades of grey just kept creeping in.
Chapter Fifteen
It was an understatement to say I was sore, cranky and sleep deprived the next morning. My brain would not stop peddling as I lay in that bed listening to Wolfe shuffle about uncomfortably on the floor. There were moments I felt I couldn’t breathe, I was so confused, lost and afraid of what I might be feeling towards him.
Suffice to say that come daylight we weren’t really talking to one another, only grunting responses at each other. Wolfe had breakfast brought up to us, still convinced I had the potential to cause trouble (I rolled my eyes at that) and we shovelled down some horrible porridge as quickly as possible. We then solicited the help of the jolly barkeep to get us a messenger. We had to wait in a dark corner of the nearly empty tavern (imagine all the trouble I could cause in an empty room, I snorted at Wolfe) looking anywhere but at each other. Finally a surprisingly tidy, well-put-together young man came in and spoke to the barkeep, who pointed at us. Turned out the young man was the best horseman in the rookery and made good money as a messenger. The barkeep swore we could trust him. So Wolfe handed over the sealed letter and money, and ordered the messenger to the Zanst’s home in the Factory District in Ryl. We received a few raised eyebrows at that, the barkeep and the messenger probably wondering who in haven we were acquainted with in the Factory District.
“Can we leave now?” I asked quietly, not quite able to keep the petulance out of my voice. The messenger was already gone and on his way and Wolfe had just been staring across the barroom as if in a daydream.
He flinched at the sound of my voice and I ignored a little pang in my chest that I refused to believe was hurt. “Yes,” he replied in a low scratchy voice and I took some satisfaction in the fact that he hadn’t slept either. “Let’s go.” He grabbed me by the elbow and got me to my feet.
“You don’t need to manhandle me,” I hissed as he took me out of the room, waving goodbye to the barkeep.
“Just stay by my side while we’re here, alright,” he snapped back.
I sniffed, “I would have thought you’d be happy to see something happen to me.”
“I’d be happy if you suddenly lost the will to speak.”
I made a face at him but he ignored me, still holding me a bit too painfully by the arm as he strode across the back yard to the stables. There was nothing and no one in sight.
Including our horse.
“What the…” Wolfe growled, letting go of my hand as he peered into the stables. My heart thudded in my chest as I spun around, scanning the back of the building.
Nope. Our horse was gone.
I drew in a shuddering breath. How on earth were we going to make it back to Ryl?
A muffled thud sounded from over my shoulder.
“Wolfe-” I spun around only to find him crumpled on the ground, unconscious, a trickle of blood running out from his hair onto his forehead. Standing over him were three of the dirtiest, creepiest looking thugs I had ever seen, each holding a disturbing-looking weapon. The tallest leered at me, his yellowing teeth flashing menacingly as he bounced a mallet off the heel of his palm. The second tallest was an older man, not quite as grubby, his hand-me-down unwashed clothing that of a gentleman’s. His large hand sat on the hilt of an old but deadly looking sword. The third appeared to be the youngest and as he jabbed the air teasingly with a dagger, I thought perhaps he might be a little deranged. He had a wild look in his eyes that sent a shudder down my spine. I wanted to drop down next to Wolfe to check if he was alright, amazed that these ignorant looking thugs had crept up on us so quietly. Wolfe would never live it down if his men found out how easily he had been felled… again. The fact that I was the common denominator in his failed protection had not escaped me.
A sound from the thugs drew my eyes back to them and I stiffened my spine at their leering regard. “What do you want?” I asked, proud that I kept tremors of fear out of my voice.