by Deb E Howell
“I have a sister,” he continued eventually. “But she’s a lot younger, nearly thirteen.” He turned a knowing smile on Llew; she’d know what it was like to be a girl going into her teen years.
She did. But she supposed it wouldn’t be too bad having a family to go through it with. Finding yourself alone at eleven was something she wouldn’t wish on any girl.
“Cassidy and I grew up like brothers. When he and his mother came to stay in Kas, anyway.”
“Where was his pa?”
“Don’t know. Never had one, as far as I know.”
“Everyone has a pa.”
Alvaro coloured and then rallied. “I guess his ma got cold one evening . . . ”
“Nothing happened, Al.” She didn’t look at him.
“I didn’t mean . . . It’s just . . . Not him, Llew. Just . . . Don’t do that to yourself.”
Llew frowned at him.
“He can’t love you like . . . ”
“You could?”
Alvaro bit back whatever he had been going to say. “Just don’t give your heart to him.”
Llew blinked at him. Somewhere in there she got the feeling he was asking her to like him instead, but he hadn’t said it. It didn’t matter, anyway.
“It’s my own heart, Al. I plan to keep it to myself.” Didn’t mean she couldn’t play on the attraction Jonas seemed to have for her. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to it, but if things did go badly it wouldn’t hurt to have an ally as powerful and dangerous as Jonas. And his knife. Muscles in her back contracted at the thought of that knife travelling behind her. Perhaps after lunch she would suggest she and Alvaro took up the rear. Having that gryphon-handled knife at her back was unsettling.
It rained persistently for the next few days, making the journey less pleasant. Whether she rode alongside Alvaro, Cassidy or Jonas, they didn’t talk much, just kept their heads down, letting the rain pour from the brims of their hats. Anya and Emylia took up almost permanent residence under the canopy of the carriage.
Llew carried out her tasks like the men, catching fish when possible to break the monotony of their road meals. They stayed in inns whenever their day’s travel brought them to a township for the evening, and Llew now slept with the ladies. On the road she didn’t return to Jonas’ bedroll, despite the growing cold of the autumn evenings, especially after a day being soaked by rain.
They rode into Stelt – Population: Peculiar – just before dinner time. The sun was already behind the Aghacian mountains, though its rays would linger another hour. To make the stop, they had to veer from the main road and cross a bridge not much wider than the carriage. It was the only way into the town, and it made the sojourn feel like even more of a hindrance to their progress. All the other towns had simply been pauses. Still, Llew would much rather take the time to head into the town than sleep outside again. She pondered on that and concluded that she was getting soft.
Entering the saloon, Llew felt as though she had been there before. Like the inns from previous nights, it was predominantly wooden, with fittings supported by heavy steel plates and bolts; it housed a few tables and chairs, and several patrons. A couple of girls wearing little more than under garments fawned over whoever was winning a game of cards at a corner table, and a few lone drinkers were scattered about other tables. One man slouched over his ale, alone in a corner. Another observed the newcomers with brief curiosity before returning his attention to his drink.
One man sat at the bar cradling a sniff of whisky, as many a man had done at the saloons, inns and bars they had previously visited. Only this man seemed more interested in the new arrivals than any before. He was dark, with most of his features hidden behind a scraggly beard and shoulder-length hair. His light brown eyes were surprisingly pretty under long eyelashes.
He continued to watch them as they stood at the bar while Aris negotiated their rooms.
When the rooms were booked and the group was turning to head up the stairs, Cassidy approached the man. Llew looked to Aris for his reaction, but he seemed satisfied that the blond young man knew what he was doing.
“I don’t mean to be rude, mister, but may I ask what’s caught your interest?”
“I was just noticing your friend, there.” The man inclined his head toward Jonas.
Cassidy followed the man’s gaze.
“I don’t know why. He’s not much to look at, and I don’t think he would reciprocate your interest.” He turned back to the bearded man, his piercing blue eyes warning that the man should lose interest. Quickly.
The man didn’t laugh, but a few whiskers at the corner of his mouth lifted as he appraised Jonas, who stared back with an unreadable expression. The man pulled his gaze away from Jonas and took in the rest of the group, lingering on Llew. She felt uncomfortable being scrutinised, and looked away.
“Surprising company you keep.”
Llew turned back. He was looking at her. He was talking to her. “What?”
“I said, ‘Surprising company you keep.’” The man seemed to smile at her confusion, though it was hard to tell through the beard. “A fan of the great Syakaran of Quaver, are you?”
Jonas went to lunge at the man, but Aris’ hand on his arm kept him in check. The bar fell silent, though an under-current of murmurs continued.
“Oh. You didn’t know. Interesting.” He took a sip of his whisky.
“I suggest you finish your drink and move on, friend.” Aris gave the word ‘friend’ an ominous tone.
“Friend, is it, Aris?” The man sneered. “No love for a long lost son? Oh, but I was never your son, was I? Not once my brother came along.” His eyes shifted to Jonas. “You’re a long way from home, brother. I trust you’ll keep out of trouble. Wouldn’t want you flying off the handle. Again.” The man threw back the last mouthful of whisky, then stood, patting down his leather coat as if checking he had everything. He had an easy manner and seemed unconcerned by Jonas’ glowering; Jonas seemed unable to act.
The man scooped his hat off the bar and his sleeve pulled back, revealing a chunky metal bracelet. He afforded Llew a wink as he pressed the hat onto his head.
“Good to see you, Jonas. You’d be proud of your brother’s achievements. I’d love to tell you about it, but it would be so much better to show you. Why don’t you come find me later tonight? I’ll wait for you by the bridge.” He turned for the inn door. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to come alone.” He took a step toward the door and then backtracked, one finger in the air. “On second thoughts, bring the girl.” He looked at Llew.
Her hand flew to the hair at the back of her head. She looked down at the front of her shirt. There was barely the hint of breasts.
The man laughed.
“Your costume is fine. But you are the spitting image of your mother.”
Something in his demeanour changed when he said it. Some hint of emotion. Llew shrank back from the over-familiarity. Something about him scared her to the core, and when he looked at her, he seemed to know her.
“No wonder your father was so protective.” His voice was filled with a sorrow Llew couldn’t understand. She was too rattled to make a move and knew she had to pull herself together before Jonas took her to the bridge.
Aris continued murmuring to Jonas under his breath. Only the respect he had for the older man kept Jonas under control.
“I’ll let you folk settle into this fine establishment. But I do hope you’ll find time for family while you’re in town.” This time, the man made it to the inn door. He gave them one last smile and a friendly wave before pushing his way through the door and disappearing into the night.
The atmosphere of the inn relaxed, though only slightly. The innkeeper watched Jonas warily, as did several of the bar’s patrons, those still sober enough to be paying attention, anyway. But slowly card games were resumed and the piano struck up again.
The group closed ranks around Jonas as Aris hushed the questions about the man who had known far too much.
&nbs
p; “You two go and see to the horses.”
Alvaro and Cassidy did as Aris ordered and headed for the stable.
“Do you mind settling the girls in?” Aris turned to Emylia. “Jonas and I need to have a word.”
“And me,” said Llew, then continued before Aris could object. “He knew about me. I think you should talk to me, too.”
“No, Llew. This is family business,” said Aris.
“Exactly. He knew about my ma–”
“No!”
Llew jumped back half a step and the whole room fell silent again.
“Llew. Braph is a magician. He could pick your thoughts right out of your head,” Jonas said in a husky whisper.
“But I wasn’t thinking about my parents.” Magician?
“A bath will be brought up to your room,” said Aris, as if Llew hadn’t spoken. “I suggest you use it. We will meet down here for a meal later. No one,” he looked pointedly at Llew and then Jonas, “no one will be going anywhere tonight. Do I make myself clear?”
Jonas and Llew nodded to each other, neither looking at Aris.
“So, there is nothing further for you to discuss tonight. Emylia.” Aris motioned for Emylia to take over from there. She nodded and rounded the two girls up.
“Aw, but things were just getting interesting,” said Anya, turning to the stairway.
“Ladies don’t whine, Anya,” said Emylia behind them. “And young ladies do as they’re told.”
Anya didn’t reply as she headed up the stairs. Llew followed, ushered by Emylia.
After a bath and a meal in strained silence, Llew lay in her bed waiting for Anya and Emylia’s breathing to change, indicating that they had crossed the threshold into sleep. When she was sure she was the only one awake, she eased her blankets back and swivelled from the bed. She hadn’t stripped, so only needed to pull on her shoes, her jacket, and then it was the simple matter of slipping out the door. Simple, if its hinges weren’t in need of a little oil. She opened it inch by inch, cringing at every creak and freezing at each shuffle of blankets behind her. When the opening was just wide enough for her thin frame, she slunk through, and then began the painful process of closing it again.
She tiptoed along the corridor, opened and slid through the next door quickly to avoid the racket from the still crowded bar waking those above, then scurried down the stairs; she scooted around drunk men and corseted – and little else – women, who mostly ignored her in her jacket and trousers and short tousled hair, and finally pushed her way into the clean crisp air outside.
A hand covered her mouth and an arm wrapped about her waist and she was pulled into the shadow of the alley by the inn.
CHAPTER NINE
She didn’t squeal. After the initial shock, she knew it was Jonas. He released her once they were hidden from the view of casual passers-by.
“You shouldn’t be out here.” Jonas poked his head around the corner of the inn, checking she hadn’t been followed.
“Neither should you,” she said, resting her clenched hands on her hips. “Yet here you are. And you knew I’d come, or you wouldn’t have waited on me.”
He turned back to her. “I didn’t want you goin’ alone. But it ain’t safe for you to come. You should go back.”
“You know I won’t.”
He took his time answering, appraising her. “I know. But you gotta do exactly what I tell you.”
“Okay.”
“Alright. It don’t look like anyone heard you leave. Come on.” Jonas stepped onto the street and Llew followed.
They had crossed the bridge on their way into Stelt. The river ran through a deep stretch of green grass on either side. There would be no light from nearby buildings, only what the moon threw down in between scurrying cloud cover. The night air was cold, and Llew hoped that whatever this Braph had to say he would say it fast. But she certainly wanted to hear what he had to say – especially about her parents.
“Who is Braph?” she asked, trotting to keep up with Jonas’ brisk strides.
“Someone I’d rather you didn’t meet.”
“Why? He called you ‘brother’.”
“That’s because I am – he is. My pa was his pa first. And he ain’t never let me forget it.” Jonas maintained his pace and Llew had to throw in a few running strides to keep up.
“He talks so–”
“Like he went and got educated?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.
Llew floundered, thinking she’d insulted him. But he didn’t look upset.
“Yeah, well, so did I. But I didn’t feel the need to go denyin’ my roots, did I?”
“Which are?”
“We grew up on a farm in Aldia, far north o’ Quaver. Mostly kept us out o’ trouble.”
Mostly . . . Llew was learning that if she wanted to kill a conversation with Jonas, she simply had to ask about his family. They continued in silence.
When they arrived at the bridge, Jonas peered into the night and checked both sides of the river; there was no sign of the leather-clad man.
“Do you think he’ll come?”
“He’ll come.” Arms folded, Jonas leaned back against the end of the bridge.
“Why do you think he wanted you to bring me?”
“’Cause it’s the only way he’ll have any chance of beatin’ me in a fight.”
“You think you’ll fight?”
“He’s got it comin’.”
Llew stooped and plucked a handful of grass blades. She started throwing them into the cold air one by one until she got bored. Then she brushed the last blades from her hands and hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her biceps. The cold was seeping right through her jacket.
“Why would my being here give him a better chance of beating you? Doesn’t it put the odds in our favour?”
Jonas was silent a while. “’Cause it’s harder to fight when I gotta worry ’bout him hurtin’ you.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She shoved her hands in her trouser pockets, hunching her shoulders up to her ears. She considered telling him why he shouldn’t worry, but now wasn’t the time. With his brother on the way, he had enough to think about.
Suddenly Jonas’ arms reached around from behind and he pulled her into him, and he rested his head on her shoulder. She hadn’t sensed him move from the bridge. They stood watching the play of the moon’s silver light on the rippling water for several minutes. Normally Llew would have brushed such affection aside, laughed it off. But she was cold, and even his warm breath across her cheek was welcome.
“I will worry about you,” he said. “Damn it, Llew! Everyone I’ve ever cared for is dead. It won’t happen again.”
“You care for Aris, don’t you?”
“That’s different.” His voice was almost a whisper. Llew started. Had Jonas just said he cared about her? Surely not. Besides, it meant little. Her father had cared about her too. Didn’t stop him leaving when he’d had enough.
She almost forgot why they were there, as she felt his body against her and his breath tickling her ear. She let her head fall back onto his shoulder, a thrill shooting through her as her smooth cheek brushed his unshaven one. The chilly air breezing across her exposed neck didn’t bother her, and she wondered if this was what it was supposed to be like to be with a man, courting. She had heard other women and girls talk of sparks and tingles – not the cringing revulsion she had experienced with the men who used to visit her pa, one of whom had been the first to take her, nor yet the despairing touch of Kynas. This was all new for Llewella. She turned her head toward him and blew out a ragged breath as his lips pressed lightly against her exposed neck.
Jonas guided her down into the grass. She sat, and he knelt before her. He stared questioningly and she replied with a tiny nod and smile. He leaned in to kiss her and then, cradling her head, he guided her to lie back. One knee between her thighs, he continued with ever more probing kisses, loosening her top button with one hand. Llewella pulled his shirt free of his trousers and
slipped her hands up to take advantage of every ounce of heat.
“I hope he doesn’t come,” she said.
“Let him come.” He planted a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll kill him before he draws breath for the comment he always has to get in first.”
“When did you last see him?” she asked as he moved down her neck again.
“I ain’t talkin’ ’bout Braph while I’m puttin’ the moves on you.”
“Oh, you do make it sound so romantic.”
“Well, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout romance.”
“Sex on the other hand . . . ” She finished for him and froze, while he chuckled and kissed her skin.
Was that what they were doing here? A flash of Kynas writhing on top of her appeared in Llew’s mind and suddenly she felt sick. She couldn’t think about Jonas like that. She couldn’t do it. They couldn’t do it. His lips on her skin felt so good, but where they were leading filled Llew with dread.
“What was that word he called you?”
Jonas’ head came up and he sighed with frustration.
“Get up.” A sword tip smacked the ground by Llew’s ear and she cracked her head against Jonas’ jaw.
Rubbing his jaw, Jonas stood. When Llew went to follow suit, the sword tip was pressed against her chest, where her shirt hung open. She was stuck on her elbows, too scared to move.
“Don’t you touch her,” said Jonas, moving toward the man. But he had to back up a step when another sword was levelled at him. “Let her go.” Llew didn’t think Jonas was in a position to make such demands.
“Actually, it’s her we want. You can go,” said the first man. One more stood behind him. All three were thick-set, muscular men with unshaven chins and unkempt hair.
“No.”
“I know what you are,” said the leader. “But there are three of us.”
“Drop your swords,” Jonas commanded, speaking slowly and carefully.
“Aghacia’s magic-free. We don’t need your kind here. Hers neither, but she’s worth somethin’ to us.”
Llew felt the tip of the sword pressed more firmly against her. She gasped at its touch even as she tried not to break Jonas’ concentration. She knew he was a capable fighter – he had, after all, easily defeated the Zaki warrior in a hand-to-hand fight – but here he faced three swordsmen. And each of the men was nearly twice his size.