Page 43 of The Darkest Oath

He shook his head. “Not rich. I am usually on a ship in a uniform, being fed with ship gruel. I only wear these clothes and spend a few coins of my wages a few days a year.”

The other rubbed his fingers through a scraggly beard. “I’ll only tell you this because the rumor is you are a nice man, but I wouldn’t be telling people the king employs you. It probably isn’t safe if you like your life. Come up with a different story.”

Rollant gave a short nod, remembering Malo’s same advice. “Appreciate it,” he said, scanning the people staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Could you please tell me what you were saying about Élise?”

“What is your interest in Gabin’s woman?” Toothy Grin said.

“She has become a friend, and Gabin beats her. I only want to make sure she is well,” Rollant said.

Scraggly Beard shushed him. “Everyone knows it, but Gabin is dangerous, and we need him to keep things running. We’ve no choice. So don’t say anything.”

“So you let her suffer?”

“Some of us don’t get to run off to the King’s ships,” Toothy Grin sneered.

“Is she well?” Rollant asked again.

“I suppose,” Toothy Grin answered. “She has more bruises these days, but she’s made a little name for herself across these districts. Lots of women have been following her because they like what she says, and she’s been more defiant, too. Told Gabin ‘no’ the other day in front of us all,” he sniggered. “I have never seen that man turn so red. I thought for sure he’d kill her there on the spot.”

Rollant clamped his teeth. The news sharpened both Rollant’s fear and admiration. Élise had become a hero in the community, but it put her in greater danger from Gabin and any remaining French Guard Regiment royalists.

He nodded, murmured, “Thank you,” and continued toAu Pain Roux.

The cold nipped at his fingertips as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Ignoring everyone else on the streets, he envisioned Élise’s face with black eyes, cut cheeks, and irises lit with a flame for freedom. She was in sharp contrast to Louis’ weakness and indecision.

He hadn’t seen the sorceress since she’d cursed him on the battlefield at Damascus, but he wondered if eternity always meant he must serve the French monarchs blind to the truth. What if they didn’t deserve the crown? He’d run the dagger over his hand that morning before he left his Charonne home. It healed as it always did; thus, it didn’t matter. He was still immortal and cursed. Why had he let himself get attached to Élise? She was just a woman, but not any woman. After six hundred years, he was ready to love again. He wanted to love again. He desired to be with Élise and live a mortal life with her, maybe even in his Charonne home, free from his oath.

He swallowed the hard lump as the worn woodenAu Pain Rouxsign appeared at the corner of Rue de Charonne and Rue de Faubourg Saint-Antoine.

But he was cursed, so he decided if she came with him this time, he would leave her in Charonne. It was a perfect, peaceful home with a nice single man her age who lived down the street. He would never return there so she could live her life, and if the king sent him back, he would stay in royalist inns. He hoped she would leave the unrest behind in the city and heal in the sanctuary he provided for her. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he could return toAu Pain Rouxagain. Every appearance put Élise further into harm’s way. Gabin would surely kill her if she stayed a third time.

A child dashed out of the bakery, squeezing a big loaf of bread. He took off down Rue de Faubourg Saint-Antoine. Gabin’s shadow and heavy footsteps pounded behind him.

“Thief!” Gabin’s yell defeated the wind as the husky-built man charged into the winter cold, holding his long bread knife. He pointed in the direction of the child. “I’ll kill you if I see you again, boy! Stay out of my bakery!”

Gabin swung at the wind, slashing it in rage before re-entering his business.

“Élise!” he roared.

Rollant peered in through the frost-streaked window and saw Élise back away, using the counter as a barrier. Her chin lifted in confidence, but the quiver in her hands betrayed her façade.

Gabin advanced and jutted the knife in her direction. “You saw that boy, and you didn’t stop him. That’s the third one this month!” The fury in his words blasted past clenched teeth.

“I did no such thing, Gabin!” she yelled back, dropping her hands as fists to her sides. The defiant stance masked her fingers’ tremble.

“Don’t lie to me!” he growled, slamming the blade’s handle across her jaw. She crumpled to the floor, clutching her face.

“Get up and work, you lazy, lying whore!” Gabin screamed as he leaned over the counter.

Rollant had seen enough and would not tolerate the injustice. He knocked on the wooden post and stood within its open frame.

“I heard something I should not have heard,” he said, his voice low and steady. His silhouette drew a long shadow in the interior room. The bakery’s firelight illuminated the red rage in Gabin’s bloodshot eyes as he turned to face Rollant.

“You!” Gabin pointed the blade at him. “I warned you to stay away, and now I’ll gut you like a pig!”

Rollant stepped inside, kicking away the door stand and allowing the doors to swing shut behind him. “I came to see if you had killed Élise or not. Looks like she was one bad decision away from death.” The warmth from the bakery did little to thaw his tone.

“She is my woman!” Gabin bellowed, stabbing the air between them as he stepped toward Rollant. “I can do with her what I please.”

---