by S. Young
Wolfe and I refused to look at one another, and I knew Chaeron was confused by the tension at the table. A tension that grew worse when it became apparent that Winter had cooled in her regard for me.
The few times she deigned to speak to me, it was with a tight smile and hard eyes. My protective lieutenant bristled beside me at her rudeness, but as Winter was Vojvodkyna and Chaeron a mere Mister, I placed a quieting hand on his arm to reassure him and received a blistering look from Wolfe for my trouble.
I had never been so thankful to get away from a room in my life. I hurried to my suite and locked myself inside.
But I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of our journey ahead in the morning. Soon we would be in Alvernia and I would have to brave the mountains for Haydyn’s cure. But brave them I would, and then I would hurry home to bring her back to us. I needed her more than ever. I refused to think of what was happening back in Silvera. If I did, I’d panic and lose the little focus I had.
Finally, after having tossed and turned the sheets into a tight tangle around my legs, I shoved myself out of bed and into a dressing gown. Winter had a library on the ground floor. I would pick out a book and read for a while, hoping it would send me off to sleep.
I was surprised to discover the sconces still alight out in the hallway, and as I walked, it became apparent that the vojvodkyna kept her house lit even when the household was asleep. I clucked, shaking my head. The lady really was wasteful.
I hurried through the hallways and tiptoed down the stairs, my bare feet cold against the marble floor. I hopped quietly from rug to rug to save my poor feet from the chill. As I drew closer to Winter’s parlor, the sound of low voices drew me to a halt. Was that Wolfe?
Heart thudding, blooding rushing in my ears, I sidled along the wall until I drew up to the door. Peering tentatively around the door frame, I sucked in a breath at the sight before me. I hated that I wanted to cry. I hated that he made me feel that way.
Wolfe was sprawled in an armchair, his long arm draped over the edge, a brandy snifter dangling from his fingers. Winter stood over him, between his legs. She gazed down at him in longing.
I wanted to scream.
“Darling, you’re being impossible,” Winter purred as she leaned down, bracing a hand on each arm of the chair. “I’ve missed you. Two nights in the same house and not even a peck.” She finished by pressing her lips to his cheek.
To my horror, Wolfe groaned, that familiar groan that I thought was all mine. Stupid fool. Stupid, inexperienced child.
But then he shocked me by pressing a hand to Winter’s shoulder to push her away. With a sigh, Wolfe rose to his feet, towering over the vojvodkyna who was even more diminutive than I. I couldn’t look away. Even as he stared at her so intensely. I watched as he brushed his fingers gently down her cheek. Winter stared back at him, wary and bewildered.
“I told you no,” Wolfe said in a low voice. “I’m sorry, Winter.”
Holding in my breath, I waited for Winter’s response. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would take kindly to being rebuffed.
Indeed she turned from him, her spine ramrod straight. “You can’t possibly love her,” she whispered. “She’s nothing special. She’s not even beautiful.”
My jaw dropped. I may have questioned who on Phaedra they were discussing but I knew how much Winter admired beauty … and I was anything but beautiful.
“I think she is,” Wolfe whispered back, and my heart pounded so hard, it was as if the organ itself was swelling. My legs trembled; my toes curled into the marble floor.
Winter shook her head and turned back to him. “I’m such a fool. Even back then, your eyes followed her everywhere. I told myself you were only doing your job, watching over her.”
“I’m sorry,” Wolfe repeated, looking remorseful.
“Stop saying you’re sorry. So what? You’re going to give up what we could have again for a girl who doesn’t even care for you?”
Wolfe flinched, and that awful pang resonated again and again like a vibration in my chest. I wanted to cry out to him. It wasn’t that I didn’t care for him. It wasn’t that at all. I just couldn’t be with him.
“Rogan is confused.” He rubbed his forehead in that familiar way of his. “But I’m willing to wait.”
Winter shook her head, as if she thought him a fool. Mayhap she saw something in me that he didn’t. “You do love her, don’t you?”
My breath caught.
Wolfe sighed and walked over to the table. Slowly he placed his brandy snifter on it and then straightened, reaching for Winter in a comforting gesture. “I do. I love her.”
At his pronouncement, I thought I might be sick. The blood rushed out of my face and seemed to abandon my body. No. No.
I quietly backed away from the door and snuck down the hallway before I raced to my room. For a while, I just stared at nothing, balancing on the edge of my bed.
Wolfe loved me.
Wolfe.
Loved.
Me.
How had this happened?
I thought of the way I had hurt when he told me what Syracen had done to him, what the sight of the horseshoe brand did to my heart. Of the way I had come to enjoy arguing with him so long as it meant being in his company. Of the way my stomach flipped when he turned his wicked smile on me, and the way my body came alive when he kissed me. Of the ache, deep and gnawing, in my chest when I thought he and Winter had resumed their affair.
Oh, haven’s no. I closed my eyes, frustrated tears clogging my burning throat. I couldn’t love him back. I just couldn’t.
There were too many obstacles between us. Too much history. Too much hurt. The blood of the man who had destroyed my family ran in his veins. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t betray my family by marrying Wolfe. A Glava. I thought of Selene and her prediction. Well, I’d prove her wrong.
From now on, I would put a world of distance between me and Wolfe. Soon he’d stop loving me. He’d be fine. He was a catch. He could have any woman he wanted.
And me?
I only wanted one thing, and Wolfe kept getting between me and it.
Focus. Utter focus on retrieving the Somna plant.
Saving Haydyn. Just the thought of her name. Haydyn. I knew it would help me keep Wolfe at a distance and give me the strength to go it alone.
Chapter 20
He knew what I was doing. The frustration and anguish on Wolfe’s face when I gave him formal, clipped responses to his queries almost undid me. But I chanted Haydyn over and over in my head to keep me strong. And after the third hour, Wolfe finally glowered like he really hated me and sped off in front.
Feeling Lieutenant Chaeron’s curious study, I stared straight ahead, my eyes blank, features expressionless. The quicker Wolfe forgot about me, the better it would be for all of us.
Despite the horror of the significance behind our journey across Phaedra, despite the terrible close calls I’d already had with the world’s less civilized creatures, and despite the turmoil I felt over Wolfe, I actually looked forward to venturing into the coal mining district of Daeronia. I’d heard it was a close-knit community of friendly people.
As we trotted into the first village on the main trade road, I was more than a little surprised by the chill in the eyes of the villagers we passed. It was dusk, and people strode quickly to their homes, covered in soot and grime. Others, clean but still dressed ruggedly, traveled in the opposite direction toward the mine. But all of them stared up at us with hard eyes and bristling bodies.
I gaped at them in confusion, drinking in their squalid little homes and their gray little world.
No one stopped to greet us, and Wolfe, who rode a few yards in front, made no attempt to stop to speak with them. The lines of his own body were stiff, and I noted his hand sat on the hilt of his sword. Swallowing nervously, I kept my eyes forward. We were in the southernmost village in Daeronia. It was more than possible that the evocation had waned here.
Sharing a glance with t
he lieutenant, we shifted the horses at a faster trot. Wolfe crossed a small wooden bridge on the other side of town and stopped in the clearing beyond it. He turned, and the lieutenant and I did the same. None of us said a word. We just waited for the entire Guard to make it through the village. When the last two men trotted over the bridge and joined us, I finally exhaled.
“That was chilly,” I said to Chaeron.
He answered with a brittle nod and looked over at Wolfe in question.
Wolfe sighed. “It’s nearly dark. We should camp here. I think we’ll be fine as long as we don’t ask them for a place to sleep.” He flicked a glance at me before staring straight ahead again. “I’m afraid it’ll have to be a campfire bed for you, my lady. I hope that doesn’t distress you too much.”
He had said it loudly to needle me in front of his men. I sensed the anticipation in him, waiting for me to retaliate. He wanted me to. He wanted something, anything from me. I turned away, ignoring the shaking in my hands. “I think I can manage well enough, Captain.”
Feeling his eyes burning into me, I slid off my horse, letting my hair fall to cover my hot cheeks.
“Tyler, Szorst!” Wolfe called out. He dismounted his horse and approached the two men, holding out a bag of coins. “Go back into the village and procure us some coal. It should keep us warm at camp and perhaps soften the locals.” He nodded in the direction of the bridge to some villagers who had come out of the village to peer at us making camp.
As the two men started off on foot, I worried my lip between my teeth, watching them. Remembering the looks on the coal miners faces, I decided that sending the men in alone was a bad idea. But I couldn’t very well say that to Wolfe and I couldn’t rush off alone—that had not worked out well for me in the past.
“Lieutenant.” I approached Chaeron as he settled the horses with some water.
“Yes, Miss Rogan?”
Telling Chaeron I thought his men were in danger wouldn’t work. The Royal Guard were somewhat arrogant about their prowess and didn’t take lightly to having it called into question. I’d have to approach the subject sensitively. “We’ve been riding all day and I really would like to stretch my legs. Would you walk with me into the village?”
He frowned. “Miss Rogan, you saw how unfriendly the people were.”
“Then perhaps a few of the other men would like to stretch their legs with us.” I used my take-no-prisoners tone that Haydyn hated. She could never deny me when I used that tone. I usually brandished it when she was daydreaming during her tutorials or refusing to get out of bed.
I blanched inwardly at the thought of her. Shaking off the familiar growing panic that thrummed beneath my skin, I raised an eyebrow at Chaeron as he just stood there. I remained unwavering and he finally drew himself up. “Of course, Miss Rogan.”
As we passed two men, Chaeron called to them to come with us, and then informed Wolfe that he was escorting me into the village. Discerning the coming argument by the look on Wolfe’s face, I drew out my heaviest artillery and stilled him with a look so cold, it made him flinch.
I gulped down my guilt and hurried on, my skin prickling and muscles twitching at the feel of his eyes on my back.
As soon as we crossed the bridge, I felt the charge in the air, a sense of violence and anticipation. Chaeron and his men must have felt it too because suddenly, we were hurrying into the town and through the narrow streets to get to the main village courtyard. Sure enough, Tyler and Szorst stood with their hands on the hilt of their swords, surrounded by a group of angry coal miners, spitting and shouting at them. Just one spark, I thought. That’s all it would take.
“Halt!” Lieutenant Chaeron bellowed, and I startled in surprise. He sounded terrifying and intimidating, and looked it, too, as he strode forward with the two guards at his back. The villagers stumbled a little but did not move away from Tyler and Szorst who looked relieved to see us. “An attack on the Royal Guard is a high offense and will result in imprisonment!”
Some of the villagers seemed to deflate, their faces drawn and wary. Others grumbled but slumped away. Others grew even more aggressive. A tall, stout man with a round face hardened with hatred stood forward from the group to face Chaeron.
“Who gives a damn about the Guard? We’re left to stew in this forsaken place, working our fingers to the bone in eighteen-hour shifts in the mines under order from management! Three months ago, we worked good hours, decent hours, until management started adding an hour here and there until eventually we exist on no sleep, bad food, and broken bodies. Our children grow sick! Our wives grow weary! Where is the Royal Guard in that, I ask you?”
Chaeron was as shocked as I at the explosion, and the rabble-rousing yells of agreement. What on Phaedra was going on here? What this man said, it couldn’t be true? But as I looked around at the desperate faces, I found the truth in their eyes.
Impulsively, I strode forward past Chaeron who tried to reach for me, but missed. “There must be some mistake,” I implored the man. “We didn’t know.”
He looked at me with such revulsion, I tensed. And then he made a groggy noise in the back of his throat and spat in my face. Chaeron’s blade was against his neck before I even could comprehend what had happened. Humiliated, I wiped at the phlegm dripping down my cheek and glowered at the man who now stood stiff against Chaeron’s sword.
“Your name?” Chaeron growled in his face.
“Den. Den Hewitt.”
“Den Hewitt, you just committed a crime. Do you know who this lady is before you?”
The rabble-rouser paled somewhat as he really looked at me, his eyes showing a little of his panic as he wondered who he had just offended. “No,” he replied hoarsely.
“You just assaulted the Lady Rogan of Silvera. The princezna’s handmaiden.”
The gasps of the people around us made me want to curl inside myself. Den blanched, fear turning his mouth white. Still shocked at his treatment of me, a woman, a lady, I let him stew on it. They thought his punishment would be grave indeed. However, although stunned by his offense, I was more concerned by his accusations.
“I didn’t know.” He wilted a little.
“No. I imagine you did not.” Chaeron shifted the sword from his throat. “Den Hewitt, I charge you with assault against the Lady Rogan of Silvera. You will be placed in my custody and taken back to Silvera for trial.”
“Lieutenant.” I shook my head, not wanting this man punished severely for an act of stupidity born of frustration.
“But Lady Rogan?” Chaeron frowned.
“All I want is an apology.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Hewitt looked between the two of us, his expression filling with hope as he waited for Chaeron’s decision. The lieutenant finally nodded, although his eyes blazed, and Hewitt breathed a sigh of relief before turning to me. “I am so sorry, my lady. I am so sorry.”
I nodded. “If you had merely told us your grievance, we would have dealt with it, Mr. Hewitt. I assure you that none of us were aware of these conditions you speak of. Let us return to our camp and I will speak with the captain of the Guard. He will investigate the matter.” It was perhaps obnoxious and forward of me to assume Wolfe would take care of this situation, but I couldn’t leave these people as they were. They were so volatile. Just one spark …
Den Hewitt thanked me and apologized some more, relieved at escaping severe punishment. The men and I withdrew from him and turned back for camp. I could feel Chaeron’s disapproval, but I was the one who had been spat on. I should be the one to mete out the punishment.
Before I could approach Wolfe, Chaeron charged ahead. He cornered the captain.
By the time Chaeron was done, Wolfe’s face was hard as stone. With an efficiency and lethal determination that demonstrated just why he was captain, Wolfe rounded up a group of ten men and they mounted their horses. As they cantered toward me, I stood to the side and kept my eyes on the grass. I saw Wolfe’s horses’ hooves come into view and then stop.
“Next time, ask me before you offer my services.” He snapped.
I scowled at him. “Are you saying you would leave them this way?”
He frowned back. “You know I wouldn’t. But I don’t appreciate taking orders from you, Lady Rogan.”
My apologetic smile was brittle. “Apologies. It won’t happen again.”
Again, seeming startled and disappointed by my compliance, Wolfe nodded and began to pull away. Just as I was relaxing, sure Wolfe would take care of the issues the villagers had put forth, he threw over his shoulder. “I’m fining Den Hewitt for assaulting you.”
“But I don’t want that!” I cried, rushing to catch up with him. I could see the other men trying to look uninterested in our exchange. “You can’t do that!”
Wolfe drew to an abrupt halt and glared down at me. “I can do anything I want, Lady Rogan. I am captain of the Guard.” He seethed, his face mottled with anger. “He assaulted you, Rogan, and that I will not stand for.” Abruptly, he turned and jerked his reins, galloping over the bridge and into the village, unmindful of his surprised Guard who took off after him.
Wolfe had just betrayed the intimacy between us by using my given name.
It was with a mixture of relief and pain I realized Wolfe had had enough and was no longer speaking to me. He returned to camp some few hours later and told Chaeron what had happened. I tried to eavesdrop, but the collective snoring of the Guard drowned out their voices.
The next morning, Wolfe refused to look at me, let alone speak to me, and as we moved off away from the village, I had to ask Chaeron for the details of Wolfe’s venture into the village.
Apparently, Den Hewitt had not exaggerated. After investigation, Wolfe discovered the manager of the mine, a wealthy baron no less, was working the villagers to the bone to keep up with the competition from the local mining communities surrounding them. Discovering sick children and ill workers, worn out and hopeless, Wolfe was furious. The village had had two deaths in the last month caused by exhaustion and dehydration.