by Carrie Lofty
"What's the harm, Gavriel?" Her smile returned, revealing the dimple on her left cheek. "You've sworn not to use your skill or your sword. Use your mind instead."
He wanted to argue, that old response. No mind. No soul. Only a conscience so very aware of his deficiencies. But they had ages until dawn, and he was suddenly curious. Anything to withstand another handful of hours trapped with Ada and her clear, keen eyes.
The protests faded as he examined the piece he held. "She is the queen?"
"Yes," she said, setting the queen alongside her dark countrymen. "One of the least powerful pieces on the board."
He raised his brows. "Least powerful? Whoever invented this game had no notion of women."
"Perhaps that will change one day," she said with a laugh. The light, carefree sound and that frustrating little dimple had him thinking of far more than chess. Dark and dangerous urges, willing him to be reckless. But he shut out the sound, the thought, the temptation, and focused on where her finger pointed next. "Now, this is the king..."
Ada chewed a fingernail as Gavriel moved his rook. She had seen her fate coming for three moves, but he must have been planning this final blow well before that.
"Check mate," he said.
"And you're being honest with me?" She tipped over her king, resigning the round. "You've never played before?"
The severity of his taut lips softened—not a smile, but something akin to it. "Not once."
"I suspected you had a mind for strategy, but this ... this is astonishing."
He seemed embarrassed, twirling one of Ada's slaughtered pawns idly between his fingers. "A lucky beginning, nothing more."
"Luck has naught to do with this. I claim one victory, then you win five straight games."
"You're only upset I beat you."
"Not a bit. I never stood a chance."
"Ah," he said quietly. "Then you let me win."
"Do I seem like the kind who enjoys losing?" She leaned across the chessboard, one still replete with his tiny pale army. He held all of her pieces but, at her approach, his expression shied toward panic. She smiled, needing to restore the balance of power between them, to offset her growing fascination. "Who are you, exactly?"
"A novice to the Order of Santiago."
"So I've heard." Looking at his lips made her lick her own, wondering at the feel of him, this strange riddle of a man. "Keep your secrets," she whispered. "For now."
His dark, bottomless eyes widened. "You don't frighten me."
"Oh, but I do."
The door to their room careened open. Scattered rushes did little to cushion where her elbows met marble, startled backward. Gavriel rolled to put his body between her and the door.
"Come with me. Quickly!"
The unfamiliar female voice in the doorway did nothing to dispel her confusion. Ada blinked against the harsh light, unable to discern the face behind a lit torch held aloft.
"Come away now or find yourselves before the magistrate," the woman said. "They are raiding La Senora's home. Hurry!'"
Chapter 9
Beyond the doorway, shouts and the splintering of furniture broke the night silence. Gavriel jumped to his feet. Ada tossed the chess set in her satchel. Her knees gave way as she stood, but he caught her beneath her arms. "Can you walk?" he asked.
"I will." She furrowed her brows and managed to stay upright, leaning heavily against his side.
With both bags over his shoulder and Ada's dagger tucked in the tie of his breeches, he nodded to the faceless woman and followed her into a narrow corridor. The flickering play of light and shadow guided their way to the rear of the dwelling. He no more trusted their unknown guide man he would trust Ada— or himself—but he followed for lack of an alternative. The shouting and violence was to their rear, which helped put one foot in front of the other.
"Keep with me, inglesa," he said, half hauling her along the narrow corridor. "We've outstayed another welcome."
"I sense a pattern. We should notify wise men and report our discoveries."
He frowned at her, the only alternative to laughter. "I know only clergymen and knights."
"No learned men there. And I see you trying to remain grim. Does that effort grow tiresome?" She sighed. "Forget I said a thing. You won't answer."
Gavriel fled from mysterious villagers and followed an equally mysterious guide, while Ada settled into his body with neither worry nor malice. And the minx was teasing him. He did answer then, perhaps because his tired mind and restless, traitorous body had loosened the frantic grip on his emotions. "Yes, inglesa. It grows tiresome."
The sharp blast of night air hit her face with force enough to rouse Ada completely. She had been happy to take shelter against Gavriel, almost free from the terror and pain. Only for a moment Neither distant nor scornful, he had seemed caring— a person, freed from his stoic nature. She had seen a glimpse of that man as they sparred over the chessboard. He was competitive, yes. A natural strategist. He was also strangely reassuring company, quiet, with the driest sense of humor. She could have hidden in that room forever, working into his mind just as his chess pieces slid past her defenses.
But the warmth and comfort had disappeared. They faced exile again, her sickness driving him from even the negligible refuge of that tiny room.
The woman who guided their flight pushed the head of torch into the damp dirt outside the dwelling's rear door. Darkness enveloped them in an instant.
Ada blinked into the night, her eyes slowly adjusting. The impairment sent her mind back through time and distance, across water and land to England, to Meg, her blind sister— the sister she missed at that moment more than she could bear.
Contemplating how low she had fallen and how far she had traveled could consume the remaining days of Ada's life. But the immediacy of their new peril pushed maudlin thoughts away. For that, at least, she welcomed the unexpected danger.
"This way," said their guide.
"Who are you?" Gavriel asked. He took Ada's hand as they followed the woman to the north, through the courtyard.
"My name is Blanca. La Senora is my great-aunt"
"You're the herbalist she mentioned?"
Blanca tossed a sour look over her shoulder, her round face like the moon hanging overhead. "She mentioned that? La Senora only refers to people by what they might offer her. She didn't take you in for charity's sake. The old man from your order—what was his name?"
"Pacheco?"
"Yes. He gave her money."
"We did, too," he said.
Blanca laughed quietly. "Then she did well for herself. Perhaps if she's lucky she can buy her way out of trouble."
They turned the corner around the converted cathedral, but when they did not stop to take shelter there, Ada and Gavriel exchanged questioning looks.
"Where are we going?" Ada asked, her mind beginning to work and see arid breathe once again. Yes, like breathing after a year below water. She had never stopped to realize how demanding her cravings had become. The damage that could have been done, if she had been sold into slavery—she shivered and swallowed a bitter copper taste.
"Out of sight," Gavriel said, tugging Ada into a brick alcove between buildings. "They're in pursuit."
Blanca squeezed into the shadows with them, the fine sheen of sweat on her forehead dampening the band of her dark cowl. Her skin smooth and firm, she appeared no older than a girl. The flat bodice of her modest wool gown, some color between blue and black, raised and lowered with each quick breath. The whites of her eyes fairly glowed, no matter how deeply she slunk into the black.
Her whisper stretched across the scant inches between them. "I'm helping because I hate that old witch. She'd keep me as her servant for the rest of my days."
"What will happen to her?" Ada asked.
'Trial by fire or water, perhaps. No man will stand as her second, so she'll not be asked to endure trial by combat—not as a lone old woman. But now that los guardias have her, I'll need help getting out o
f the city. No young woman travels beyond its walls alone."
"You want us to be your escorts?" Ada covered her smile with one hand, ignoring the seething male at her side. "Won't that be nice, Gavriel? Another traveling companion for you?"
"I would toss you both in the Tagus, if I could."
"Hardly charitable, novice," she said, her smile refusing to be contained. Realizing she still held his hand, she gave it a squeeze. He dropped her fingers as if they were live embers.
"You strip me of my charity," he said. "Thank you for your assistance, senorita, but we can offer you nothing but gold. I cannot assume more burdens in this journey."
"I won't accept gold," Blanca said with a shake of her head. Tears forged silvery paths down her cheeks. "You must understand that gold is useless to one such as me. I'm tainted by my aunt's illegal business. No one will meet my eyes in the marketplace. I've no chance for proper suitors. This town is a prison."
That word may as well have been a streak of lightning flashing between them. Gavriel flinched and averted his gaze. Ada felt something tighten in her chest, a sense of unexpected kinship pinching below her ribs. How often had she thought of Charawood Forest as just such a prison? The taint of her sister's ailment and her eventual blindness—not to mention Meg's passion for the mysteries of alchemy—had endeared them to none of their superstitious neighbors.
She had since endured the horrors of true prisons, both in Sheriff Finch's dreaded dungeon and in the clutches of her opium thirst, but Blanca's youthful need for an escape brought those years in Charnwood back to life. She remembered believing that any sacrifice would be worthwhile, that anyone offering an escape was a saint
"We've difficulty enough," said Gavriel. "You must understand. My apologies."
If she had not known better of the taciturn man, Ada would have sworn his words sounded more like a plea. She almost felt sorry for him.
"You can come with us," she said.
A group of men in armor chugged past, the clamor of their metal skins louder than their shouts. Ada wondered at the power of fear. A rabbit hiding from a wolf's jaws could not stay as still as she did Gripped by that unnatural stillness, she felt Gavriel's body pressed against hers. He hardly breathed. Did his pulse race as hers did? Did he wonder at the heat where their limbs touched?
She had only just experienced the terrible aftermath of her withdrawal. Now the same reckless part of her that still craved the bitter taste of opium was taking stock of the potent male at her side. That she had so little sense heated her cheeks, part from shame, part from a delicious sort of nervousness.
"Shall I signal for them?" Blanca asked, her voice a strangled whisper despite the threat.
"Save your breath" Ada said. "Gavriel is bound to care for me, which means if I won't leave without you, neither will he."
"We could always try those ropes, inglesa"
Ada tried to see his face, but Gavriel's dusky skin was made for hiding in shadows. "What does that mean? Do you intend to tie me up and haul me to Ucles?"
"No," he said, the word a low warning that his temper had been stretched to breaking. "It means she's coming with us."
* * *
They entered the bathhouse with a key Blanca pulled from the bag at her belt. She carried nothing else.
Gavriel eyed her with no small measure of suspicion. If she wanted to leave the city, did she truly intend to do so without any possessions? And how did an herbalist come by a spare key to the public bathhouse? Much like darkened buildings on the streets of Toledo, bathhouses after hours only housed the worst sorts of people and the most blatant of temptations.
He followed the women into the pitch-black entryway like a sleepwalker. Lack of rest only accounted for a little of his numbness. Ada, however—Ada had disrupted his judgment and scrambled his life to such an extent that any direction seemed viable.
But his goal remained unchanged, no matter the crooked and thorny path he traveled. Left to Toledo or the countryside of Castile, he would be hunted and killed by the de Silva family's far-flung agents. Left to the dictates of his own soul, he would reverse that scenario, tracking down the exiled Joaquin de Silva in order to run him through. Hunter or hunted, he could be neither. He needed the security of a permanent place with the Order of Santiago. If rescuing Ada Keyworth from herself was the price of that place, so be it
Perhaps this shifty girl Blanca could be of assistance. The less time Ada spent focusing on her own pain and bitterness, the more willingly she would walk to Ucles. Whether or not she genuinely empathized with the girl's plight did not matter. More likely, she only wanted the girl tagging along to aggravate him.
But a bathhouse?
God had stopped listening to him, surely—if He had ever listened
"Why do you have a key?" he asked into the black.
"Where else would una covigera rather conduct her business? Illicit meetings are best done in secret places."
"I wouldn't know," he muttered. "And you opened the bathhouse for these couples? Or did you just palm the key tonight?"
"I started coming when La Senora could no longer make the foot journey. I've had custody of the key ever since."
Blanca sounded unbearably weary for one so young, but he crushed that shimmer of understanding.
"Did you call los guardias?' Ada asked.
"No," Blanca whispered. "The alcalde's wife was caught sneaking to a tryst—not in the act, mind, but with evidence enough to enrage the officials. That was last night."
"And the scandal was the last straw?"
"The people elected him. They were embarrassed on his behalf and could no longer turn away from my aunt's ventures."
Gavriel shuffled through the entryway until he found a wall sconce and a torch. He rummaged through their satchels to find a small leather pouch among his possessions. A few clicks of flint later and the flames jumped to life. "And you knew enough to leave," he said.
Blanca nodded as Ada stepped into the circle of torchlight. "She's clever," Ada said. "Which means she won't be a burden."
"You're clever and a burden, both."
Looking into her eyes was like meeting an entirely different woman. He searched for signs of weakness or pain or mindless desperation but found only Ada—whoever that might be.
"You're staring, novice," she said.
He lifted the torch and took a step closer. Flames cast quick contrasts of dark and light across the fine lines of her face, making her lips appear fuller and her eyes wider. A trick of shadow, nothing more, but desire pushed past his defenses. They had shared much, too much, in that little room.
He cleared his throat. "How do you feel?"
"Better." Like heat lightning across the plateau, a look of contrition covered her face. One he almost believed. Pale pink dyed her cheeks and spread down her throat. She dipped her head and kneaded restless fingers together. "I—I wanted... to apologize for the trouble I've been. These last few nights— I have memories of what I did and said. I am... I'm ashamed?'
He did not move for long moments, watching the burden of this woman's care become more arduous with every tortured word. Witch, addict, harlot—he could cope with any such incarnation. Barely. But like her tears, her humility threatened a deeper part of him, one without ready defenses. He tried to breathe evenly, but no amount of concentration ebbed the twin delights of her appreciation and her mangled apology.
"Quiet now," he said. "There is no shame in fighting free."
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She started to speak but stopped, sniffing back the obvious surge of emotion. She made a marble column of her spine, straight and rigid, and darted her eyes away. Tendons stretched taut beneath the skin of her neck.
Not only did he have to remain vigilant about her addiction, he had to be wary of this new, clear-minded woman. He had chastised himself for thinking of her as his enemy, but the designation was more accurate than ever.
"This way," Blanca said, passing through a wide entryway. "You won't
be safe in the open. Los guardias might think to look for us here."
Gavriel picked up the bundle of their belongings and hoisted them onto his back, only to find Ada standing before him, hands out. "Let me carry my things," she said. "You have borne too many burdens for me already."
He shook his head. "I think not. I foresee you and your possessions on horseback returning to Toledo."
"Which would leave you stuck with Blanca, poor thing. Can't have that"
"No."
"Then let me carry something of yours," she said, her expression surprisingly bright and open. "I insist"
He had no idea how to interpret this new woman. Not an hour before he had carried her. Now she was volunteering to share the weight Fair and exotic, this mystery from England— would she taste different from other women?
"Here." He shoved a light leather satchel into her arms and nodded for her to follow their guide. "I'll not have you walking behind me either."
She offered a smile. "All of these rules, Gavriel. Are they by your design or a product of the Order's training?"
"Mine. Now go."
Chapter 10
"La Senora is not the first to use these facilities for secret meetings," Blanca said. "She inherited the knowledge of their existence from the woman who trained her."
Ada smiled and looked around the small enclosure they entered below the main rooms of the bathhouse. While sparsely furnished and a little drafty, it seemed just the place for an illicit meeting. Perhaps with the advent of a fire, or heated by the danger of such a tryst, the otherwise cramped and barren rooms might feel more inviting.
"Covigeras have apprenticeships?" she asked.
Blanca shrugged and sat on a low wooden chair. "Convincing a married woman to accept the suit of a man who is not her husband takes skill and patience, as with any trade."
Gavriel snorted and dropped Ada's bundle. "That is no trade."
"She earns a living providing a service," Blanca said. "I know of no other definition."
"She's a criminal" he said. "She makes a living destroying good women and ruining marriages."
Ada shook her head. "Do you adhere to every fuera a city invents? Beware your own hypocrisy, Gavriel."