Page 27 of The Darkest Oath

“Monsieur Roux,” Rollant began. “Élise is sick. I understand it could be maddening to walk in and see a stranger at your counter and your apprentice asleep in the corner, but I assure you, when I came to barter, she was not well and nearly fainted from sheer exhaustion.”

Rollant gestured to Élise as he approached Gabin. “She has a fever.”

He laid a hand on Gabin’s shoulder as a subtle gesture of control, speaking in soft tones but loud enough for Malo to hear. “Now, do you as the bakery owner want to lose business because your apprentice is sick and your customers refuse to buy the bread she made.”

“She is not sick,” Gabin yelled at Élise and shook his fist at her.

But Rollant continued in his calm, firm tone. “She has a fever. Look at the sweat beads on her forehead.”

“That is from hard work by the fire,” Gabin said, turning to Malo as if to reassure him Élise was not sick.

“Even still, it might be best if I take her to the charity hospital to ensure it is not a fever. I saw one in Le Marais that is strictly for women and children. You could tend to your bakery in the meantime.”

“Get up, Élise,” Gabin barked, and Élise struggled to stand upon uneasy legs. “Go see if you have fever, and Rollant, get out. Don’t touch her. She is my woman, not yours.”

“Are you sure she can make it on her own?” Rollant ignored him and nodded toward Élise, who fell to her knees and hands.

“I’ll take her,” Gabin said and shoved Rollant’s hand off his shoulder.

Rollant asked, “Then who will run your bakery, Monsieur Roux?”

“You will,” he barked, pulling Élise by her arm. She moaned at the roughness.

“I will not. I have errands to run and barters to make before my next port call. This is your business. I don’t even know how to make bread. I just followed Élise’s directions, but I am thick-headed. I don’t know how it will turn out, and I don’t remember what she told me to do.”

Rollant was going to make sure Gabin couldn’t argue. He gestured to the customer at the counter. “Malo, here, was kind enough to give me his usual barter, but do you have that much trust in the rest of your customers or the travelers who come here on the bakery’s wonderful reputation? Your bakery could be near out of business by the time you return.”

Gabin sneered. His eyes slipped to Malo as he thought.

Élise coughed and groaned at the weight pulling on her arm.

Gabin finally made a decision. “Fine, take her to Le Marais. I want her back before sundown.”

“With a fever?” Rollant asked with a lifted eyebrow. “And chance spreading her illness to all your customers and friends?”

Malo shook his head and finally piped up after keeping his mouth shut the entire exchange. “I don’t need any fevers, Gabin.”

Gabin dropped Élise to the floor. “Bring her back as soon as the fever breaks,” he barked in Rollant’s face and thudded behind the counter. He slammed his apron over his head and yelled at Malo. “Anything else?”

Malo shook his head. “Just leaving.”

Rollant grabbed his coat while repeating,I do not love her, in his mind. He hesitated before scooping Élise into his arms using the coat as a sling. She weighed nothing, and it squeezed his heart.

Malo adjusted the coat to ensure Élise was adequately covered.

It was a dangerous line he was crossing, holding her so close. At any moment, she could breathe her last, and it wouldn’t be due to the fever. His jaw grew taut as he adjusted his internal motto:I will not love her.

They left Gabin muttering indecipherable curses while folding dough.

The busy street didn’t notice Rollant carrying a woman. But Malo leaned in and whispered, “Got some real nerve on you, standing up to Gabin like that. He ain't the sort to forget it come next time.”

Rollant nodded off the compliment and was bitter toward the man for not helping Élise for the last six months. Surely, he was a regular bakery customer, and he said nothing and did nothing until it was almost too late. “When your friends are hurting, it is worth the wrath of a bully.”

Malo patted Rollant’s shoulder. “It is easier when you don’t live here where the bully controls the bread.”

Rollant bit back his words. Like the king, he was far too detached to understand what these people lived through. “My apologies, Monsieur.”

Malo nodded, accepting it. “You have my respect. Safe travels to Le Marais,” he said, then continued on his way.

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