Текст книги "Warprize"
Автор книги: Elizabeth A. Vaughan
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Including me.
She took one look and gave an exasperated snort, which set all of her chins wobbling at once. “Child, look at yourself.” Her voice boomed across the kitchen. Some of the staff looked up and glanced at me with sympathy, but then continued on with their work. Anna made her way over, scowling, her keys to the spice cupboard rattling as she moved. “You look like a ragged pilgrim.” She threatened me with her spoon. “You haven’t eaten, have you.” Her voice carried easily over the noise and confusion.
“Anna, you can read me like a book.”
“As if I would waste time reading a book.” She bellowed something out and before I knew it, she and I were seated at a corner of the large, battered wooden table amidst the dishes, eating fresh hot bread with her special honey butter slathered all over it. My bundles had been added to the dirty rag pile, and my basket sat on the table. She kept a stern eye on the staff as we ate and occasionally erupted into admonitions when things weren’t being done to her standards.
She sighed. “Have you been out working all this day?”
I stuffed my mouth with a bite of bread and waggled my eyebrows at her. Anna leaned back in her chair and let out a laugh that set her whole body to shaking. Anna, Goddess love her, knew how to laugh. She caught her breath, laid her fat arms on the table and looked at me shrewdly. “His Mightiness pulled the army back within the walls this day, against Warren’s wishes. The Warlord’s men are before the walls.”
“I heard as much in the market. Is that true?” Not that I doubted her. Anna always seemed to be the first to know.
“Aye.” She leaned forward and snagged the last of the bread. She turned her head and bellowed at someone over by the fire. Then she looked at me. “I hear tell that Warren was saying that His Mightiness panicked.” She sniffed. “Blood tells.”
“Anna.” I scolded her. She hadn’t liked the foreign queen and didn’t like Xymund and never had. But Anna was an institution and Xymund loved his comfort and his meals. So there was a truce of sorts. He stayed away from her domain, and she let him run the kingdom with a full stomach.
She shook her head, setting the chins to wobbling. “Heard tell he’s sent a messenger to ask for terms.”
My eyes flew open at that. I thought that the battles had been going well, but perhaps Xymund’s pride would not allow him to admit to anything less. For Xymund to even agree to talk to the man who had beaten him so soundly, so recently, was a sign that things were bad.
A plate appeared on the table, this time with slices of toasted bread and cheese, with roasted onion. I dug in, getting a piece before Anna could reach for one first. The cheese was still hot and bubbling on top, and I blew on it, eager for a taste.
Anna inhaled her piece, impervious to the heat. She reached out a fat finger and prodded my basket. “ Does he know that you were out there again today?”
I shrugged, my mouth full.
“I suppose you charmed your way past that son of mine.”
I shrugged.
She tapped her finger on the table, which caused ripples to move up her fleshy arm. “Watch yourself, child. Xymund is not Heath, to be wound around your finger. You are a thorn in his side, and you can only push so far.”
“Look whose talking.”
Anna focused a serious look on me, but said nothing more.
The doors to the main dining hall opened and in walked Othur, Anna’s husband and the castle seneschal. A great barrel-chested man, he made his way through the servants toward us. He was sweating, his brown hair plastered to his skull. He looked very tired and very pleased at the same time.
“Anna, my love.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a hearty kiss. “You did a wonderful job as usual.”
“Goddess spare me from High Courts.” She grumbled, but I could see that his praise had pleased her.
Othur grabbed a chair and sank into it with a sigh. He snagged the last slice of bread and cheese. “And you, young lady.” He bit into the bread and chewed. “He is looking for you. And getting worked up about it.”
I didn’t have to ask who “he” was. I sighed and started to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Anna smacked my head and bellowed something that resulted in a bowl of warm water and cloths being set in front of me. “Child, you are filthy. At least see to your face and hands. What is that on your jerkin? ” Anna pushed away from the table. “No, I don’t want to know. Let’s see if we can clean you up.” I did not resist. Since I had been a child, and after the death of my mother, Anna had the raising of me. While my smiles had no effect on her, she was always there with the warmth of her hearth and her love. I knew better then to try to avoid her fussing.
Othur wisely sat quietly, with a mug of ale, while I washed. He was always a quiet one, but when he spoke, you needed to pay attention. Anna tsk’ed over the state of my tunic, and took a wet cloth to the worst of them. The activity of the kitchen seemed less frantic now that the meal was done, and the clean up started. After I passed Anna’s inspection, and been given a quick hug, I swept up my basket and followed Othur out to the castle proper.
We kept to the back halls, passing the occasional servant. The cool quiet made for a relief from the busy kitchen. I worried my lower lip with my teeth. Perhaps I should tell Othur about the brooch after all. But all my reasons remained the same. I frowned as we walked. There was no one that I could really confide in, no one to turn to for advice. Maybe at least Othur could advise me as to how to…
“Lara.” I looked up as he drew me to a stop.
“I need to see to some of the guests that are staying. You’ve heard about today’s events?” He placed a hand on my shoulder. I nodded.
“He is in his study.” Othur squeezed my shoulder. “Try not to anger him.”
That was like asking fire not to burn.
I grimaced, but nodded. Othur gave me a doubtful look, then hurried on his way toward the guest tower. I continued on mine, up the spiral stairs to the King’s tower, shaking my head as I walked.
It was soon after Xymund’s mother died when the King married my mother and I was born. Xymund had been well in his majority and acknowledged as heir at that time, but I was sure that his resentment of me had started with the first coo from my father’s lips, and intensified with every word of praise that followed.
I still had no understanding of it. He had been the rightful heir, and anointed King since our father’s death these three years past. But the jealousy was still there, even when I had made it very clear that I would not train for high office, that I would follow the healer’s path. I smiled, thinking back to Father’s outraged reaction to my decision. But he had come to accept it and was grateful at the end for my skills, even though I could not defeat death’s shadow for him.
But even when Xymund had been acknowledged King, anointed and crowned, the envy and ill feeling continued. I didn’t understand. He had power, wealth, and women falling in his path eager to become the next queen. But some form of happiness eluded him, and I was fairly certain that I was to blame. It soon became apparent to everyone in Court that being a ‘friend of Lara’ did not advance one in the King’s good grace.
Even so, I’d tried to step back into the Court life after Father’s death, only to find that I could no longer tolerate the pomp and nonsense. The conversations were inane, the meals long and tedious. I had little in common with the ladies, and the lords all looked at me as they would a prize breeding mare.
Which gave me more time for my studies and exercising my skills.
Father had left me lands, which generated a modest income. Xymund held those in ‘trust’ saying that a healer knew little of managing lands. I had tried to leave the castle, tried to retire to an estate, where I could set up a house of healing and maybe a school. But when I raised the topic, Xymund would refuse, saying that my value as a potential wife in an alliance marriage outweighed the value of my school. Although there were limited candidates in the neighboring kingdoms, especially given my age, he had always refused any offer for my hand.
He seemed to take pleasure in denying my dream.
I shrugged and gave myself a shake. Anna, Othur, and I had talked this out and agreed that when Xymund wed and had his own heir, he would let me live my life as I chose. It seemed likely that he would wed within a year’s time. There had been talk of at least two prospective alliances. Or at least it had seemed so before the Warlord’s attack.
Which reminded me of that man in the tent. I stopped and chewed my lip.
Goddess forgive me, I was not going to betray a wounded and sick man to Xymund just so that he could undo all my work. Others might think it a betrayal of my king, but to my mind it was extending the Goddess’s mercy. Just in case, I ducked into one of the alcoves off the hall and put the brooch into the top of my boot. I pushed it down far enough to insure that it would not fall out. The boots were big enough. One would not be able to tell it was there. I’d wait and speak to Lord Warren tomorrow. He’d make sure that the right thing was done.
A moment more, and I was before the guards at the door to the King’s study. I nodded to them and set my basket down against the wall. There was the sound of raised voices from within. The argument sounded heated. I glanced over at the guard, who shrugged. He knocked on the door. There was instant silence, then Xymund’s voice granted entrance. The guard swung the door open. I kept my eyes down, advanced five steps and sank to my knee.
Xymund loved the pomp of his circumstances and required the formality. Father would have kicked him in the buttocks for it. Othur felt it showed Xymund’s lack of self-confidence and I agreed.
The guard behind me cleared his throat. “Xylara, Daughter of the House of Xy.” I turned my head and shot him a look out of the corner of my eye. He caught my meaning. “And Master Healer.”
The argument hadn’t stopped when I entered, they were too caught up in the dispute. I could have been a chair for all that they noticed. I risked a quick glance up at my half-brother. He was not a tall man, but looked impressive, still dressed in formal court garb, bedecked in a dark blue tunic and pants with silver trim. He wore a simple coronet, having discovered that the full crown had an annoying tendency to fall if he moved his head too quickly. His brown hair was graying at the temples, and his face bore lines of worry that had not been there a few months ago, although the lines were hard to see in the angry flush that covered his face. When he shifted in the chair behind Father’s old desk, it creaked. He had gained weight in these last few months.
Another quick glance at Lord Marshall Warren, standing over by the fireplace. Spry and thin, he always seemed to me to be in motion. No flushed face there, instead his face was white, drawn and pale. “ Please, Your Majesty. We can drive them back from the walls if you let—”
“Do you question my competence, Warren?”
The slight pause didn’t help matters. Xymund tightened his lips, but Warren was quicker. “Majesty, none of us have had to deal with horse archers before this. We’re not used to their tactics—”
“Damned horses.” Xymund was snarling. “I hate those horses.”
“Their horse archers are devastating against the foot, Majesty. But they have no siege equipment at hand, and the snows will come before they can build sufficient—”
“ENOUGH!” Xymund barked and Warren closed his mouth with a snap.
I looked down at the carpet, unwilling to rise from my knees and draw attention to myself. Xymund’s breathing was audible, harsh and fast. It took long moments to slow.
“Rise, Xylara. You were not at dinner.” Warren was standing at the fireplace, looking at the smoldering coals. Xymund continued. “You should make an effort to attend our Courts.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The word ‘brother’ had not seen use since Father died.
He looked me in the eye. “You went out there again, didn’t you.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
His face hardened. “Why do you insist on aiding my enemy?”
So it was to be the same old argument. I started with my usual rebuttal. “Sire, I tend to our wounded before I go…”
He held his hand up, and I stopped obediently. I saved my defiance for when it really counted.
“Let’s not start.” He glanced off with a frustrated look. “It’s not like you will obey me in this anyway.” Xymund continued. “How many prisoners are in the tent?”
Surprised, I thought for a moment. “I have not taken an ac-tual count, Sire. I would guess around twenty. I don’t really know.”
He looked unhappy. “Well, the exact number is not important.” He fixed me with what he thought was an intimidating glare. “You are not using my supplies on those animals.”
I shook my head no. “I am following your instructions, Sire.”
“Are any of them likely to die in the next day or so?”
An odd question. “Not likely, Sire. I have one that is badly wounded, but other than that they are healing well.”
“Very well. You are dismissed.” He had the look of a man thinking about something else, and not happy in his thoughts.
I looked over at Lord Warren, but his gaze was fixed on Xymund. I sensed that now was not the right time to request an interview. Instead, I bowed to the King, and backed away. I managed to leave without banging into the door.
The sun on my face woke me the next morning. I rolled over, burrowing my head in the blankets and pillows, and sought the return of sleep. My muscles were warm and limp and the bed was so comfortable. I could feel myself starting to drift. But something niggled at me. I drowsed for a bit, trying to remember what was so urgent. Then I heard horns from outside.
I threw back the covers, darted to the window, and threw open the shutters. From my little window, I could see the city sprawled below, beyond the walls, and into the valley stretching far below. The Warlord’s army lay there, the small white tents covering the fields beyond. It was an impressive sight. I stood for a moment, then scrambled about my small room, looking for the clothes I’d tossed aside last night.
I took a sniff, and decided that fresh ones would be a good idea.
I found a simple gray dress in my trunk and dressed quickly, shoving the brooch back into my boot before I finished. It was safer with me than not.
I would get a hurried look at the big man, check his wound, go to market and get the items I needed, do my rounds with Eln, then back to the tent, spend a few hours brewing in the stillroom, and with luck, be back in bed before the next dawn. I dug my money pouch out from under a pile of notes, and stopped in dismay.
I hadn’t realized how little was left. My only income was from the sale of some of my mixtures and lotions to ladies of the court. I usually had enough for my needs, since by living at court I had no real expenses. But I had been buying herbs and other supplies for a while now, and my coin had depleted quicker than I expected. I frowned, dug out what coins there were and glanced around my room. There was nothing here that had much value, and I had not the time to make any lotions. I reached for my belt pouch and the pile of notes that I had shifted fell to the floor to reveal a potential source of funds.
It was an old book, the first that I had purchased for myself. A listing of herbs and a discussion of their properties. I stared at its leather cover. I almost had the darn thing memorized, I’d had it so long.
I didn’t think twice, because it would have hurt too much. I swept up the book, grabbed a satchel and crammed it in. I slung the whole thing over my shoulder and headed down to the garden.
The garden seemed its usual self this morning, bright in the sunlight. I had to stop when I entered the tent and give my eyes time to adjust. No one was stirring, so I made my way quietly to the big man’s pallet. I managed not to step on anyone or anything as I made my way.
He looked good and seemed to be sleeping. I hesitated to rouse him, but curiosity won out. Carefully pulling back the blankets, I uncovered the leg and lifted the bandage, holding my breath at what I might see.
I let my breath out with a whoosh.
It looked great. The heat was down, the redness had eased. There was still pus, and it would need to be cleaned, but I could already see signs of healing. The skin had that healthy tone. It would scar, no aid for that. Although I had heard that a mixture of…
A soft sound drew my attention away from my musings.
Joden had awakened and was lying on a pallet on the other side of my patient. I looked into his eyes and smiled at him in delight. He looked at me for a moment and then slowly, a smile crept over his face as well. “Simus is well?” He said softly in his own language.
My face almost cracked, my smile was so wide. “He is very well. Very good, very well.” I didn’t have the word for fantastic or wonderful, but I was fairly sure that the glee in my voice made up for the lack. I carefully replaced the bandage and the blankets, and tucked him in tight. The big man never stirred. “Has he woken?”
“Yes. He knew me, but slept most of the time.”
“Do you have any of that drug I gave you yesterday?” Joden nodded. “Good. Keep giving it to him. I will bring more tonight.” I leaned back, rejoicing quietly. I’d not lose this one. I scrambled to my feet and threw a last smile at Joden. “Do you have everything that you need? Food?”
Joden sat up, rubbing the sleep off his face. He shrugged. “The food is food.” He got a soft smile on his face. “This one will be like a wet raffled bird because there is no kavage.“”
I cocked my head. “I do not understand ‘kavage’.”
Joden chuckled. “A drink. Very strong.” He gestured at the sleeping man. “He will be…”
I lost the rest, unable to understand. “He needs the kavage? Like a drug?”
Joden looked at me, puzzled. It was clear that we weren’t communicating well. I just shrugged and repeated the word, wanting to make sure that I had it right. Joden nodded. I grabbed my satchel and threaded through the tent. I lingered for a moment and smiled at the guard like a lunatic, feeling almost giddy with relief. He blinked at me a few times, then smiled back.
I barely noticed the walk back up to the castle, and through the gates. The big man was healing very well, something I had not been sure of when I had first seen the wound. Oh, there was still danger of fever and blood poisons, but I was optimistic. I wound my way through the city to the markets with a light step and lighter heart.
It was early enough the market was not crowded. Most merchants should have been setting out their wares. But there was an eerie quiet to the place, an unusual stillness. When I reached Remn’s shop, the door was closed, the windows shuttered. I knocked, and he let me in with a worried expression. Shorter than even me, and twice again as round, he greeted me with a smile, but there was a sadness in his eyes. “Xylara. What are you doing out this morn?”
“Good morning and good trade to you, Master Remn.” I slipped through the door, and watched him bolt it behind me.
“Trade.” He heaved a sigh, and gestured at his shelves. “In war time, no one buys books, Lara. We are free to sit and drink and eat my wife’s tarts in the echoing silence of my shop.” He shook his head in despair.
I pulled the book from my bag. He smiled when he saw it. “Ah, I remember when you bought this. Your first, yes?” He turned it over and ran his large hand over it. “Does it need a repair?”
“No. I was wondering how much you would give for it.”
He looked at me, dark eyes questioning. “Word in the market is that you are buying healing supplies for the prisoners.”
I shrugged.
He thinned his lips and thought for a moment, tapping the book with one long finger. “Wait here.” Abruptly, he went in the back, and returned with a small pouch. He handed it to me, and it clinked in my hand. “My brother’s son was lost in battle. We have heard no word, but I do this in his name. I pray to the gods that there is one on that side with a heart such as yours.”
I opened the pouch and looked in. “Remn, this is too much…”
He held up his hand. “I hold your book as surety, Lady. I know that you will repay me.” He pointed his finger at me. “Mind you don’t take too long about it.”
I laughed and hugged him. He brushed aside my thanks and urged me to go home. I refused, gently.
He scowled at me. “Very well, then. Take one of my apprentices with you. You should have an escort, young lady.”
/“I’ve only to go to Estoval’s. I’ll be fine.” He grumbled, but opened the door and I waved as I continued on.
I stopped briefly at Kalisa’s cart. She was busy with actual customers, who looked close to buying all of her stock. So I tucked a bottle of my joint medicine into her gnarled hand and moved off. She called her thanks behind me.
Next to Estoval’s. He was farther down the street, and now the early morning crowd was beginning to enter the market. But the merchants weren’t opening their windows to display their wares, instead they were dealing from behind their doors and shutters. There was an air of desperation from those seeking to purchase goods. I hurried my feet and concentrated on trying to remember another mixture that was supposed to help scarring. I could remember goat’s milk boiled thick, but the rest eluded me. Ah, well. Perhaps Esto-val would know. Also, I needed plenty of lotion makings. I’d no wish to sell any more books.
As I moved through the crowd, a funny feeling began to creep up the back of my neck. As if someone was watching me. I stopped for a bit and rummaged through my bag as if looking for something. I glanced through my hair, trying to see if someone was following me, or watching me, but I saw no one. I shrugged. Guess the hours that 1 was keeping were getting to me.
“Xylara.” Estoval greeted me cooly, surrounded by his pungent stock. “How may I help you?”
I rattled off my mental list, and he gestured for his apprentices to gather up the items. I moved about, picking up the items that looked best for some of my lotions. “Estoval, do you recall an unguent to prevent scarring? With goat’s milk boiled thick?”
His tone was even cooler as he recited the recipe for me. I added those items to my growing pile. He stayed close, nervously sorting some of the stock near me. “I was wondering if you had heard anything, Lady? About the war?” His tone was fawning, but I heard the fear underneath.
I responded, keeping my tone calm and my information general. He nodded, listening carefully, and I was sure my words would be all over the market within minutes of my departure. I kept it simple, and positive, and made no mention of the truth. That was for Xymund to announce, not I.
Finally I had what I wanted and headed to the counter to where the apprentices had set out the other items. I gave them a sharp look, for they were clearly Estoval’s older stock—wilted and withered and not at all suitable. I gave Estoval a sharper look when he named his price.
He avoided my eyes. “Prices go up when supplies are limited.”
“Supplies aren’t limited yet, Estoval. And I wouldn’t feed some of this to a goat, much less use it in medicine.”
He lifted his chin. “You’re healing those barbarians. The better stock is reserved for Xyians, not those filthy—”
I cut him off. “By the Order of the King, Estoval.” I drew myself up, and fixed him with my best High Court look. “As I am a Daughter of Xy, and as I execute the King’s Command, you will sell me the best you have and at your normal prices. Or answer to Xymund and his Council.”
Estoval shriveled up. With a quick gesture, his apprentices brought out fresh items, and I paid a fair price for it, exchanging herbs for coins in silence. I was grateful that he had relented for there would have been no support from Xymund. Of that I was certain.
As I was packing the last of my purchases, Estoval’s normal civility to a customer took over. “Was there anything else you required, Xylara?”
“No, I think that I have everything for today, Estoval.” I hesitated for a minute, thinking. “Have you ever heard of kavage?”
Estoval wrinkled up his nose. “Is it a herb?”
“No.” I shook my head. “It is a drink of some kind. I have no idea what it is. I think one of my patients would enjoy some, but I doubt that there is any to be had.”
“One of the prisoners?” Estoval sniffed, but his merchant’s instincts won out. “You might try the tinker’s cart three stores down, if he is there. I think he has snuck out of the city and is trading with the warlord’s men. Mention my name, Daughter of Xy.”
I nodded my regal thanks, and headed off in the direction he’d indicated.
I spotted the tinker’s cart easily, decorated with pots and pans, and ribbons aflutter in the breeze. I paused for a bit, since he was dealing with a customer, a tall, broad-shouldered man in armor. I occupied myself by looking over his wares. There was all matter of trinkets and metalware that gleamed in the sunlight. After a bit, the tinker turned his attentions to me.
“How may I help you?” His eyes gleamed in anticipation.
I smiled. “I am in no hurry.”
The tinker winked. “This fellow can’t make up his mind. While he ponders, you and I will treat. What can I interest you in?”
“Estoval told me that you might be able to help me. I am looking for some kavage.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. What would you be wanting with that foul stuff?”
“I am tending some of the prisoners. One mentioned that it is a drink that they enjoy.” I wavered, thinking. “Is it some form of spirits?” I had visions of trying to explain a tent full of drunken prisoners. Xymund would kill me.
“No.” A deep voice with a faint accent answered me. I turned to see the other customer looking at me. Short black hair and skin tanned dark by the sun caught my eye, but what startled me were his bright blue eyes. Tall, with broad shoulders, he seemed to tower over me and the tinker, almost blocking the sun. My guess was he was one of the mercenaries that had been hired by some of the wealthier lords to guard their lives.
The tinker laughed and agreed. “The land take me, no. It is truly foul tasting stuff that they make by dripping water through seeds.” He started to rummage through his cart, head and shoulders stuffed into one of its compartments. His muffled voice floated back at me. “In truth, I traded for some a while back, but once I tasted it,” He emerged with a good sized sack and some kind of strange metal implement. “I knew I could never sell this here. The citizens would cry themselves poisoned and the City Guard would be on my neck.” His eyes gleamed. “I will sell it to you, fine lady, but give me no blame when it eats at your insides.”
“Well then,” I replied with a smile “must not be worth much.”
The tinker tried for an offended look, but burst out in a laugh. “Ah, Lady, you have the advantage.”
We dickered a bit, just to be polite, but were quick to come to terms. I paid him, well satisfied with my purchase. The tinker was kind enough to give me a sack to carry the beans and the pot in. As I toddled off with my burdens, I heard him call behind me. “Come again, lady, and buy some more of my wares.” If my hands had not been full, I’d have waved farewell.
“They drink it with milk.” The man with the bright blue eyes had moved up next to me, walking, matching my pace. He’d apparently lost interest in a purchase. “Would you like some help?”
The market was filling up. I would find it difficult to avoid the market-goers with my bulky bundles. I felt my face flush a little when he took the sack and satchel. His gaze was steady and very disconcerting. It was rare for anyone to pay attention to me like that. I told myself not to be foolish.
“I am Lara.”
The man smiled. “I am Kier.” We started back up the street. “The liquid is drunk with milk and honey.” The phrasing was awkward, and that faint accent was there again. I couldn’t place it.
I nodded, thinking. I had money remaining, and the cost of those items would be small. I smiled at Kier. “ Then I must get some. It will be a treat for my patients.” I looked at him. “You learned this in the fighting? ”
He gave me an intent look. “One must always know the enemy.” Kier shifted his burdens. “You are treating the prison-ers, are you not?” I nodded. He continued. “Are you treating one named Simus?”
My feet slowed, wiser then my head. It took my head a minute longer to realize the implication. And before either could react, I was pushed into the alleyway off to the side, pressed up against the wall by a large body, and a large hand was covering my mouth. The packages lay at our feet, scattered.
I’d been warned, oh yes, Anna and Eln and Remn and the others. That if I wasn’t careful I’d be assaulted in the market, alone and helpless. I’d never believed them. I’d always thought that I’d be able to scream or fight or get away from any foolish enough to try anything. But the body pressed against mine was strong and hard and held me effortlessly as I fought, trying to kick, struggling to get my hands free, anything to win my release.
“Be still. I will not hurt you.” The voice rumbled, and his warm breath on my ear made me shiver. I forced myself to relax, glaring at the man, since it was all for naught anyway. I wasn’t moving anywhere until he was ready to let me go.
Given the location of where we were and what he was doing, there was no reason to believe his words and every reason to believe that he would hurt me. And yet…
I believed him. I was not scared. In fact, I had never felt more alive. My whole body seemed newly aware of itself. It was like my skin had taken on a life of its own. He had pressed himself up against me, holding me to the wall, his mouth a scant inch from my ear. The power of his body warmed me even through my clothing. Was this what it was like to—
His voice cut through my shameful thoughts, his eyes focused intently on mine. “All I want is information. How is Simus?” He pulled his hand back slightly, enough for me to talk. I could still feel the warmth of his hand on my face.
