by Jory Strong
Griffin, please get here soon!
Makayla stopped in the doorway, Jacob with her. Enzo was at his side, wearing a blue, graffiti-marked bandanna as a collar.
"Rosa said to let you and Papa sleep in. But now that you're up…" He hopped from one foot to the other, glanced up at Makayla.
Makayla said, "I told Jacob I'd buy him a collar for his dog. Would you like to go to the marketplace with us?"
Ella smiled, joy blooming in her chest at this first overture of friendship. She couldn't remember a time in her life when she'd been so happy. "I'd love to go."
Nessa pushed away from the wall and turned to face Makayla. "You've got permission to leave the house?"
"As long as you and Blaine accompany us."
"This comes from the warlord?"
"From Rosa."
Ella left the prisoner's bedside. There was nothing more she could do for him except hope that Griffin arrived soon.
Stopping next to Nessa, she said, "We'll make it a quick trip to the marketplace. If Rosa approves, I'm sure it's okay with Josiah if we go there for Jacob's benefit. I'll get my satchel and we can leave."
Nessa didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "I'll grab Blaine."
* * *
The marketplace was as crowded as it'd been the day before. Nessa led them to a leatherworker's stall.
He was a narrow-faced man with a thatch of silver hair and a nose like a blade. "What can I do for you?" he asked, deference in his voice.
"Enzo needs a collar," Jacob said, his focus on the smooth strips of beautiful blue leather on a pegboard to the right.
The stall keeper grabbed one of the strips and laid it on the table. "This would make a pretty dog's collar. We could burn your dog's name into the leather along with the warlord's symbol. What do you think?"
He nudged the leather strip toward Jacob.
Jacob picked it up, bent it, demonstrating its suppleness.
"Go ahead, put it on the dog's neck and see what you think."
"Sit, Enzo."
The dog sat and Jacob knelt in front of him, putting the leather strap around his neck.
The stall keeper opened his mouth to say something then shut it. Jacob frowned and said, "I think I'd like a wider collar. He stood and set the leather on the table.
The stall keeper gave an approving nod. "You've got a good eye. I had the same thought." He hung the leather strip back on the board and selected one from an adjoining peg, handing it to Jacob.
Jacob snapped the leather a couple of times then put it around Enzo's neck. He nodded. "I like this one."
The leatherworker came around the end of the table and crouched next to Jacob. "Hold it while I mark where it needs to be cut."
Once it was done, he stood, taking the leather with him and stretching it out on the table. "We'll put holes on one end and a buckle on the other end. We could burn your dog's name in the middle with the warlord's graffiti on either side of it, or if you want something fancier, we could take it to the metalworker. He can do up the name on a tag and rivet the tag to the leather. He's got some pewter that'd look nice against the blue. We could even put your name below your dog's. What do you think?"
Jacob pulled the leather from beneath the shopkeeper's fingers and put it around Enzo's neck. After studying it for a couple of minutes, he stood. "Enzo should have a tag with his name and my name and Papa's graffiti on it."
"Good enough. If you want to wait, I'll fashion up the collar now and then we can walk over to the metalworker. Or if you trust me to take care of it, you can visit some of the other stalls and come back."
Makayla cupped the back of Jacob's head and pointed toward a stall Ella had noticed the day before. "Let's look at kites. Once when I was about your age, Josiah came home from one of the trips he was always on with our father. He brought back a kite."
Ella smiled, picturing it.
"Did you fly the kite together?" Jacob asked as they headed toward the stall with the kites.
Makayla laughed. "Yes. But to do it we had to borrow some of Rosa's yarn—"
Blaine snorted. "Borrow? You mean you stole some of her yarn while she was busy."
Makayla mock-frowned at him. "We returned it."
The smoke stick at the corner of his mouth lifted upward. "In usable condition?"
"Mostly."
Jacob giggled. "Mostly? What happened?"
"We spent the whole afternoon flying the kite. Or trying to. It kept getting hung up in trees or in piles of rubble. Then Josiah would climb to the kite, most of the time leaving a section of yarn behind because it was too tangled."
"Was Rosa mad?"
Sadness flickered in Makayla's eyes. "No, but only because watching us made my mother smile, and sometimes laugh."
Jacob's hand went to Enzo's neck, slipping under the bandanna and stroking the dog's fur. His voice sounded smaller when he asked, "How come your mother didn't smile or laugh?"
Makayla looked away. "She was sick a lot."
Ella noticed a nearby stall with cinnamon rolls and honeybuns. Wanting to recapture the lightheartedness, her mouth watering and her stomach waking and complaining about missing breakfast, she motioned toward the stall and said, "Let's pick out a kite and then I'll treat everyone to sweet bread."
"Even Enzo?" Jacob asked.
"It might be better to stop by the butcher's stall for his treat."
Enzo's tail thumped against Jacob's leg in agreement.
They stopped in front of the kite seller's stall. His offerings ranged from simple constructions to elaborate dragons better suited for sale to the New San Jose elite.
After studying the selection, Jacob chose a kite made to look like a Peregrine falcon. Ella dipped her hand into the satchel, intending to pull out coin, but the kite seller said, "If it's the same to you, I'd take some help as payment."
He waved a neighboring stall owner over. "This is Marco. He cut his leg a bit ago. He was going to have his wife stitch it when he got home but it'd be a fair trade if you'd tend to it in exchange for the kite."
"Let me see your injury," Ella said.
The man pulled up his pant leg. The cloth he had tied around his calf was bright red.
She had him sit, eased the cloth away from his leg to reveal the gaping wound. "I'll need some water."
The kite seller hurried away, returning a few minutes later with a bucket of well water.
Ella cleaned the wound. Numbed it. Stitched it.
Before the Final War, antibiotics were overused, breeding bacteria that were resistant. Instead of giving him pills, she said, "You'll need to keep the area clean. But any sign of infection, get word to me."
"Thank you."
Everyone but Nessa had wandered away. They'd moved beyond the stall with the sweet rolls and were at a stall selling toys.
Somewhere nearby a child began shrieking. "No, Daddy! Stop hitting him! Please, stop!"
Blaine dropped the toy he'd been holding and ran toward the commotion. Jacob and Enzo chased after him. And Ella after them.
She rounded a stall, collided with someone and crashed into another stall, going down to the ground. Nessa helped her stand and they hurried toward the sound of a fight.
A gaunt, dark-haired man was desperately trying to block Blaine's punches—and failing. In a slurred voice, the man said, "Leave me alone. This ain't your business."
At the edge of the fight, a girl with a tear-streaked face who might be as old as ten stood next to a younger version of the man. The twelve-or thirteen-year-old boy's eye was rapidly swelling shut.
Blood streamed from his nose and lips. He grabbed the bottom of a dirty gray shirt and pulled it up to hold the material against his face, revealing a chest and stomach covered with bruises, some fresh, some yellowed and fading.
"You're a worthless piece of shit," Blaine said to the children's father, delivering a blow that lifted the man off his feet.
He landed on his back.
Blaine kicked him in the ribs. Went to his knees, con
tinuing to use his fists until Nessa grabbed the back of his shirt.
"Enough! Enough! Let the warlord decide this man's fate when he hears all the facts."
Breathing hard, Blaine relented and got to his feet.
Nessa continued to hold his shirt.
"I'm okay," he said. "I've got it under control."
She released her hold.
He looked around then and said, "Where's Makayla?"
"Shit," Nessa muttered.
The boy now had a protective arm around his sister. Ella stepped toward them.
Blaine blocked her. "Get Ella and Jacob back to the house," he told Nessa. "I'll take care of things here then start the search for Makayla."
"I knew this was a bad idea," Nessa said.
Blaine shrugged. "It wasn't all bad. Catch up to you later."
Holding tight to Ella's hand, his voice subdued, Jacob said, "I bet Enzo could find her if he knew what I wanted him to do."
Ella squeezed his hand. "I bet he could."
"I'm going to start training him to find people."
"Come on," Nessa said in a soldier's voice.
Believing that Blaine would bring the boy to the house if he needed medical care, Ella turned away, sending only a cursory glance at the downed father. He was still alive.
They headed home, the crowd parting ahead of them.
Ella's earlier joy was gone, leaving her feeling angry, hurt, foolish. She looked at Nessa and asked, "Has Makayla done this before? Taken off?"
"Yes." It was a snarl from a soldier seething with impatience.
"We could make our own way home," Ella said.
That earned her narrowed eyes and a terse, "I'm not that stupid."
Ella didn't volunteer anything else until they were in the house and facing a stern Rosa in the kitchen. "Where's Makayla?"
"There was some trouble," Ella said. "A boy was being beaten by his father. Makayla disappeared in all the confusion."
Rosa untied her apron. "By confusion, you mean Blaine?"
Ella nodded.
Tossing the apron over a kitchen chair, Rosa said, "That chica is going to be in big trouble when I catch up to her."
Nessa said, "Blaine's got men searching—"
Rosa slashed her hand through the air in front of Nessa. "I'm leaving this house."
She stormed down the hallway.
Nessa muttered shit and sent a skewering glance at Ella. "Leave and Saul will get involved. You don't want that."
Ella shivered at imagining those cold, merciless eyes focused on her. She nodded her understanding.
Nessa jogged after Rosa.
Ella stroked her fingers through Jacob's hair. "I need to check on the patient."
He followed her upstairs, watched from the doorway for several minutes before drifting off to his room. She could hear him training Enzo.
"Sit."
"Down."
"Good boy."
"Stay. Stay. Stay."
"Come, Enzo. Come!"
Ella smiled though anger and hurt and worry radiated outward from a tight, icy knot at the center of her chest. She'd been so foolish, so eager for Makayla's friendship. She should have stopped to question why Makayla needed permission.
Doubt invaded like an incurable disease, eating away at her earlier confidence. Ella swallowed against a tightness in her throat. Her relationship with Josiah was so new, so fragile. If something happened to Makayla…
Our relationship won't survive. How could it?
She checked the patient's pupils and breathing. He wasn't worse but that didn't change the fact that her best wasn't good enough.
Needing to be busy and remembering the promise of a treat from the bakery, she went to the kitchen and searched through the cabinets, gathering the ingredients for a cake.
She mixed them together, her thoughts churning as she stirred the batter. A man seemed the most obvious reason for Makayla's subterfuge. That could explain Rosa's insistence on leaving.
Maybe Rosa had some idea of where Makayla could be found. Maybe she had a fondness for the man in question and was afraid of what Josiah would do if his sister was discovered with him.
Ella poured the batter into baking pans and put them in the oven. The anger and hurt over Makayla's actions lessened as she remembered the longing she'd felt when she'd lived on the other side of the wall and dreamed of Josiah. If they'd ever spoken, if she'd thought she had a chance of a future with him…
Wasn't it possible that she would have dared to sneak out of the city, risked disgrace and death to be with the man she loved?
She closed her eyes, felt his hands and mouth, the weight of his body, the pleasure of having his cock filling her, thrusting in and out, the warm spill of his semen and the hope that eventually there'd be a child.
Covering her breasts, she rubbed her palms over tight nipples.
"Find Mama! Find Mama! You can do it! Find Mama!"
Her hands dropped to her sides. She blushed, opened her eyes at the sound of Jacob and Enzo approaching the kitchen.
They entered the room. The wedding dress she'd put in the laundry room was fisted in Jacob's hands. And whether or not the dog understood the command Find Mama, he came to her, tail wagging.
Jacob said, "Sit boy. Sit."
Enzo sat.
"See how smart he is, Mama. I bet we could find Makayla."
"You're both smart." Ella kissed the top of his head and scratched behind Enzo's ear. "But I think we'd better stay here. We don't want to get into trouble with your papa."
"We didn't get Enzo's collar," Jacob said, offering a different reason to return to the marketplace.
"We will."
"You forgot the kite."
"We'll get it another day. Or the kite seller might send it to your papa to bring home."
Jacob wrapped his arms around her, hugged, clung in a way that made her believe he worried about something bad happening to Makayla, about Josiah being mad at him because he'd wanted a collar for Enzo.
She stroked his back in tiny circles. Returning to the marketplace wasn't an option, and not because of Nessa's threat that leaving would bring the man whose eyes held only cold ruthlessness.
Returning to the marketplace wasn't an option because she wouldn't risk Jacob by going unguarded. The warrens were a violent place. He knew that better than she did, he'd grown up in them.
"Makayla has disappeared before," she said, wanting to offer some comfort and reassurance. "I trust Rosa and your papa's men to find her. Do you know where they found her the last time she ran away?"
"I didn't live here then."
"You were with Mrs. Wells?"
He nodded. "In Krish's warren."
"When did you come to live with your papa?"
He rubbed his cheek against her dress. "I don't know how many days it's been. Mrs. Wells paid a peddler to bring me, only he didn't come here right away."
The kitchen filled with the scent of baking cake. A fine tremor went through Jacob. "The man Geneva was inked to hit me sometimes."
Ella knelt. "Inked to? Is that like marriage?"
He nodded and pressed his cheek to hers, still trembling. Because he remembered being hit? Because he thought Josiah might do the same?
"Did you think he was your father? The man Geneva was inked to?"
Another small shrug. "After a while he stopped coming with Geneva."
She rubbed Jacob's back in wider circles. Would he have taken the hits if it meant having a father? Or had he come to believe it was his own fault that he didn't have one? Did he worry about losing this father because of what had happened in the marketplace?
Makayla cared for Jacob, Ella didn't doubt that. Last night her joy over his having a dog had been real.
"Just because someone is an adult doesn't mean they always think things through before they act," Ella said. "You didn't do anything wrong by going to the marketplace. If your papa was here, that's exactly what he would tell you."
"Really?"
/> Her heart twinged at the painful hope in his voice. "Yes, really."
He glanced toward the front door. "Can we play cards?"
"Absolutely." They returned the wedding dress to the laundry room then went to the family room.
She immersed herself in the card game as a way to hide from worry, and it worked, until the acrid smell of burning cake drifted into the room.
Damn! Damn, damn, damn!
She scrambled to her feet and rushed to the kitchen. Took the blackened cake from the oven and turned off the flame. Frustrated, angry tears came at the mess the day had become.
The front door opened with a crash.
Her heart seized. Josiah.
He stormed into the kitchen, his gaze zeroing in on her face, the coldness in his eyes rivaling Saul's, confirming what she'd feared, that the trip to the marketplace had shattered their fragile relationship.
Her chest spasmed with ache. A sob worked its way up her throat.
She fought for breath, then fought for it again when that coldness disappeared and he hugged her to him, becoming the man who'd kissed her and made love to her.
"The prospect of Rosa returning and finding her kitchen filled with smoke and her pans blackened would make me cry too, mami."
"I'm sorry about Makayla. I thought—"
"Makayla is not your concern."
"But—"
"Hush." He kissed her forehead, her lips. Glanced at Jacob, hovering in the doorway, and released her at seeing the need for reassurance in his son. "Let's help your mama with this mess, mijo. Open the doors so more fresh air can come in."
Jacob's smile at the endearment brought fresh tears. Josiah cupped her face and brushed them away with his thumbs. "Makayla will be found unharmed."
His mouth covered hers. His tongue lapped along the seam of her lips.
She opened for him, pressed her hands to his chest.
His heart beat sure and steady.
Her tongue glided against his. Rubbed and twined, finding reassurance with each stroke.
It was okay.
Everything was okay.
He deepened the kiss. Extended it. Only slowly ended it.
His dark, heated gaze meeting hers, he said, "If we were alone, mami, or if Rosa was here to keep the boy—"
"Your son."
"Yours as well."
Footsteps hurried toward them. She feared that chill would replace warmth at the merest hint she was thinking about Geneva, but she needed the truth. "When did you learn that you had a son?"