Gwen provided use of a private room at The Rose and Thorn, where he and Hadrian conducted business, and she never blinked at the risks. They no longer used it. Royce was too concerned that Sentinel Luis Guy might track them there. Still, Gwen continued banking their money and watching out for them, just as she had done from the start.
They had met twelve years ago, the night soldiers had filled the streets and two strangers had staggered into the Lower Quarter covered in their own blood. Royce still remembered how Gwen had appeared as a hazy figure to his clouding eyes. “I’ve got you. You’ll be all right now,” she told him before he passed out. He never understood what had motivated her to take them in when everyone else had shown the good sense in closing their doors. When he had woken, she had been giving orders to her girls like a general marshaling troops. She sheltered Royce and Hadrian from the mystified authorities and nursed them back to health. She pulled strings and made deals to ensure no one talked. As soon as they were able, they left, but he always found himself returning.
He had been crushed the day she refused to see him. It did not take long for him to discover why. Clients often abused prostitutes, and the women of Medford House were not exempt. In Gwen’s case the attacker had been a powerful noble. He had beaten her so badly she did not want anyone to see. Regardless of whether the client was a gentleman or a thug, the town sheriff never wasted his time on complaints by whores.
Two days later the noble had been found dead. His body hung in the center of Gentry Square. City authorities had closed Medford House and arrested the prostitutes. They had been told to identify the killer or face execution themselves. To everyone’s surprise, the women spent only one night in jail. The next day Medford House had reopened and the sheriff of Medford personally delivered a public apology for their arrest, adding that swift punishment would follow any future abuse of the women, regardless of rank. From then on, Medford House prospered under unprecedented protection. Royce had never spoken of the incident, and Gwen never asked, but he was certain she knew—just as she had known about his heritage before he had told her.
When he had returned from Avempartha the previous summer, he had decided to reveal his secret to her, to be completely open and honest. Royce had never told anyone about being an elf, not even Hadrian. He expected that she would hate him, either for being a miserable mir or for deceiving her. He had taken Gwen for a walk down the bank of the Galewyr, away from people to lessen the embarrassment of her outrage. He had braced himself, said the words, and waited for her to hit him. He had decided to let her. She could scratch his eyes out if she wanted. He owed her at least that much.
“Of course you’re elven,” she had said while touching his hand kindly. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”
How she had known, she never explained. He had been so overwhelmed with joy to bother asking. Gwen just had a way of always knowing his heart.
“What is it?” she asked again now.
“Why haven’t you packed?”
Gwen paused and smiled. That was her way of letting him know he would not get away with it. “Because there is no need. The imperial army isn’t attacking us.”
Royce raised an eyebrow. “The king himself has his things packed and his horse at the ready to evacuate the city on a moment’s notice, but you know better?”
She nodded.
“And how is that?”
“If there was the slightest chance that Medford was in danger, you wouldn’t be here asking me why I haven’t packed. I’d be on Mouse’s back holding on for dear life as you spurred her into a run.”
“Still,” he said, “I’d feel better if you moved to the monastery.”
“I can’t leave my girls.”
“Take them with you. Myron has plenty of room.”
“You want me to take whores to live in a monastery with monks?”
“I want you to be safe. Besides, Magnus and Albert are there too, and I can guarantee you they’re not monks.”
“I’ll consider it.” She smiled at him. “But you’re leaving on another mission, so it can wait until you get back.”
“How do you know these things?” he asked, amazed. “Alric ought to hire you instead of us.”
“I’m from Calis. It’s in our blood,” she told him with a wink. “When do you leave?”
“Soon … tonight, perhaps. I left Hadrian at The Rose and Thorn to watch for a messenger.”
“Have you decided to tell Hadrian yet?”
He looked away.
“Oh, so that’s it. Don’t you think you should?”
“No, just because a lunatic wizard—” He paused. “Listen, if I tell him what I saw, his reason will disappear. If Hadrian were a moth, he’d fly into every flame he could find. He’ll sacrifice himself if necessary, and for what? Even if it’s true, all that stuff with the heir happened centuries ago and has nothing to do with him. There’s no reason to think that Esrahad-don wasn’t just—Wizards toy with people, okay? It’s what they do. He tells me to keep quiet, makes a big stink about how I have to take this secret to my grave. But you know damn well he expects me to tell Hadrian. I don’t like being used, and I won’t let Hadrian get himself killed at the whim of some wizard’s agenda.”
Gwen said nothing but looked at him with a knowing smile.
“What?”
“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself and you’re not doing very well. I think it might help if you consider you’re one kind of person and Hadrian is another. You are trying to look out for him, but you’re using cat’s eyes.”
“I’m doing what?”
Puzzled for a moment, Gwen looked at Royce, then chuckled quietly. “Oh, I suppose that must be a common saying only in Calis. Okay, let’s say you’re a cat and Hadrian’s a dog and you want to make him happy. You give him a dead mouse and are surprised when he isn’t thrilled. The problem is that you need to see the world through the eyes of a dog to understand what’s best for him. If you did, you would see that a nice juicy bone would be a better choice, even though to a cat it’s not very appealing.”
“So you think I should let Hadrian go off and get himself killed?”
“I’m saying that for Hadrian, maybe fighting—even dying—for something or someone is the same as a bone is to a dog. Besides, you have to ask yourself, is keeping quiet really for his sake—or yours?”
“First daggers, now dogs and cats,” Royce muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He let his hands run through her hair. “How did you get so wise?”
“Wise?” She looked at him and laughed. “I’m a thirty-four-year-old prostitute in love with a professional criminal. How wise can I possibly be?”
“If you don’t know, perhaps you should try seeing with my eyes.”
He kissed her warmly, pulling her tight. He recalled what Hadrian had said and wondered if he was being stupid for not settling down with Gwen. He had noticed for some time a growing pain whenever he said goodbye and a misery that dogged him whenever he left. Royce had never meant for it to happen. He always tried to keep her at a distance, for her own good as well as his. His life was dangerous and only possible so long as he had no ties, nothing others could use against him.
Winters had caused him to crack. Deep snows and brutal cold kept Riyria idle in Medford for months. Huddled before the warmth of hearth fires through the long dark nights, they had grown close. Casual chats had turned into long intimate conversations, and conversations had changed to embraces and confessions. Royce found it impossible to resist her open kindness and generosity. She was so unlike anyone, an enigma that flew in the face of all he had come to expect from the world. She made no demands and asked for nothing but his happiness.
His feelings for Gwen had led to Royce and Hadrian’s longest imprisonment, six years earlier. They had taken a job in the spring, sending them all the way to Alburn. The thought of leaving her dragged on him like a weight, especially because she was not feeling well. Gwen had contr
acted the flu and looked miserable. She claimed it was nothing, but she looked pale and barely ate. He almost did not go but she insisted. He could still remember her face with that brave little smile that had quivered oh so slightly at the edges as he had left her.
The job had gone badly. Royce’s concentration had suffered, mistakes had been made, and they had been left rotting in the dungeons of Blythin Castle. All he could do was sit and think about Gwen and wonder whether she was all right. As the months stretched out, he had begun to realize that if he survived, he would need to end their relationship. He resolved never to see her again, for both of their sakes. But the moment he had returned, the moment he had seen her again, felt her hands and smelled her hair, he knew leaving her would never be possible. Since that time, his feelings had only increased. Even now, the thought of leaving her, even for a week, was agony.
Hadrian was right. He should quit and take her away somewhere, perhaps get a small bit of land where they could raise a family. Somewhere quiet where no one knew Gwen as a prostitute or him as a thief. They could even go to Avempartha, that ancient citadel of his people. The tower stood vacant, far beyond the reaches of anyone who did not know its secrets, and would likely remain that way indefinitely. The thought was appealing, but he pushed it back, telling himself he would revisit it soon. For now, he had people waiting, which brought his mind back to Hadrian.
“I suppose I could look into Esrahaddon’s story. Hadrian would be a fool for dedicating his life to someone else’s dream, but at least I’d know it was genuine and not some kind of wizard’s trick.”
“How can you find out?”
“Hadrian grew up in Hintindar. If his father was a Teshlor Knight, maybe he left behind some indication. At least then I would have someone else’s word instead of just Esrahaddon’s. Our job is taking us south. I could make a stop in Hintindar and see if I can find something out. By the way,” he told her gently, “I’ll be gone a good deal longer than I have been. I want you to know so you don’t worry needlessly.”
“I never worry about you,” she told him.
Royce’s face reflected his pain.
Gwen smiled. “I know you’ll return safely.”
“And how do you know this?”
“I’ve seen your hands.”
Royce looked at her, confused.
“I’ve read your palms, Royce,” she told him without a trace of humor. “Or have you forgotten I also make a living as a fortune-teller?”
Royce had not forgotten, but had assumed it was just a way of swindling the superstitious. Not until that moment did he realize how inconsistent it would be for Gwen to deceive people.
“You have a long life ahead of you,” she went on. “Too long—that was one of the clues that you weren’t completely human.”
“So I have nothing to worry about in my future?”
Gwen’s smile faded abruptly.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me,” he persisted, gently lifting her chin until she met his eyes.
“It’s just that … you need to watch out for Hadrian.”
“Did you look at his palms too?”
“No,” she said, “but your lifeline shows a fork, a point of decision. You’ll head either into darkness and despair or virtue and light. This decision will be precipitated by a traumatic event.”
“What kind of event?”
“The death of the one you love the most.”
“Then shouldn’t you be worried about yourself?”
Gwen smiled warmly at him. “If only that were so, I’d die a happy woman. Royce, I’m serious about Hadrian. Please watch out for him. I think he needs you now more than ever. And I’m frightened for you if something were to happen to him.”
When Royce returned to The Rose and Thorn, he found Hadrian still seated at the same table, only he was no longer alone. Beside him sat a small figure hooded in a dark cloak. Hadrian sat comfortably. Either the person sitting next to him was safe, or he was too drunk to care.
“Take it up with Royce when he gets here,” Hadrian was saying and looking up, added, “Ah! Perfect timing.”
“Are you from—” Royce stopped as he sat down and saw the face beneath the hood.
“I do believe that is the first time I’ve ever surprised you, Royce,” Princess Arista said.
“Oh no, that’s not true,” Hadrian said, chuckling. “You caught him way off guard when we were hanging in your dungeon and you asked us to kidnap your brother. That was much more unpredictable, trust me.”
Royce was not pleased with meeting the princess in the open tavern room, and Hadrian was speaking far too loudly for his liking. Luckily, the room was empty. Most of the limited clientele preferred to cluster around the bar, where the door hung open to admit the cool summer breeze.
“That seems a lifetime ago,” Arista replied thoughtfully.
“She has a job for you, Royce,” Hadrian told him.
“For us, you mean.”
“I told you.” Hadrian looked at him but allowed a glance at the princess as well. “I’m retired.”
Royce ignored him. “What’s been decided?”
“Alric wants to make contact with Gaunt and his Nationalists,” Arista began. “He feels, as the rest of us do, that if we can coordinate our efforts, we can create a formidable assault. Also, an alliance with the Nationalists could very well be the advantage we need to persuade Trent to enter the war on our side.”
“That’s fine,” Royce replied. “I expected as much, but did you have to deliver this information yourself? Don’t you trust your messengers?”
“One can never be too careful. Besides, I’m coming with you.”
“What?” Royce asked, stunned.
Hadrian burst into laughter. “I knew you’d love that part,” he said, grinning with the delight of a man blessed with immunity.
“I am the Ambassador of Melengar, and this is a diplomatic mission. Events are transpiring rapidly and negotiations may need to be altered to suit the situation. I’ve got to go because neither of you can speak for the kingdom. I can’t trust anyone, not even you two, with such an important mission. This meeting will likely determine whether or not Melengar survives another year. I hope you understand the necessity of having me along.”
Royce considered the proposal for a few minutes. “You and your brother understand that I cannot guarantee your safety?”
She nodded.
“You also understand that between now and the time we reach Gaunt, you’ll be required to obey Hadrian and myself and you won’t be provided any special treatment because of your station?”
“I expect none. However, it must also be understood that I’m Alric’s representative and, as such, speak with his voice. So where safety and methods are concerned, you’re granted authority, and I’ll follow your direction, but as far as overall mission goals are concerned, I reserve the right to redirect or extend the mission if necessary.”
“And do you also possess the power to guarantee additional payment for additional services?”
“I do.”
“I now pronounce you client and escort,” Hadrian said with a grin.
“As for you,” Royce told him, “you’d better have some coffee.”
“I’m not going, Royce.”
“What’s this all about?” Arista asked.
Royce scowled and shook his head at her.
“Don’t shut her up,” Hadrian said. He turned to the princess and added, “I’ve officially resigned from Riyria. We’re divorced. Royce is single now.”
“Really?” Arista said. “What will you do?”
“He’s going to sober up and get his gear.”
“Royce, listen to me. I mean it. I’m not going. There is nothing you can say to change my mind.”
“Yes, there is.”
“What, have you come up with another fancy philosophical argument? It’s not going to work. I told you I’m done. It’s over. I’m not kidding. I’ve
had it.” Hadrian watched his partner suspiciously.
Royce simply looked back with a smug expression. At last, Hadrian asked, “Okay, what is it? I’m curious now. What do you think you could possibly say to change my mind?”
Royce hesitated a moment, glancing uncomfortably at Arista, then sighed. “Because I’m asking you to—as a favor. After this mission, if you still feel the same way, I won’t fight you and we can part as friends. But I’m asking you now—as my friend—to please come with me just one last time.”
Just then, the barmaid arrived at the table.
“Another round?”
Hadrian did not look at her. He continued to stare at Royce, then sighed.
“Apparently not. I guess I’ll take a cup of coffee, strong and black.”
CHAPTER 5
SHERIDAN
Trapped in her long dress and riding cloak, Arista baked as the heat of summer arrived early in the day. Making matters worse, Royce insisted she travel with her hood up. She wondered at its value, as she guessed she was just as conspicuous riding so heavily bundled as she would be if riding naked. Her clothes stuck to her skin and it was difficult to breathe, but she said nothing.
Royce rode slightly ahead on his gray mare, which, to Arista’s surprise, they called Mouse. A cute name—not at all what she had expected. As always, Royce was dressed in black and grays, seemingly oblivious to the heat. His eyes scanned the horizon and forest eaves. Perhaps his elven blood made him less susceptible to the hardships of weather. Even after finding out a year ago, she still marveled at his mixed race.
Why had I never noticed?
Hadrian followed half a length behind on her right—exactly where Hilfred used to position himself. It gave her a familiar feeling of safety and security. She glanced back at him and smiled under her hood. He was not immune to the heat. His brow was covered in sweat and his shirt clung to his chest. His collar lay open. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong arms.
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