Page 97 of Ruthless Scoundrel
We both laugh, the water sloshing in our buckets as we make our way back to camp. When we quiet, my mind wanders.
My kingdom is fucked, but I’ll be back soon with help. Jasper will help me. His people are my people, and mine are his. We’re to be wed, and he…he cares for me.
And I care for him.
“What are you thinking?” Gizelle breaks the silence.
“The north will get what it needs soon.”
She sighs. “Good. Maybe one day we can go home.”
“Tell me about it?”
“It was a very nice little place inside the wall that I took over from my brother when I was sixteen. We sold cloaks, gloves, hats, and scarves. Then the queen changed the trade laws with Wolfsheim, and suddenly everyone was getting access to the fine materials we’d sourced through a family friend. But we were able to keep competitive prices, until our friends went down at sea.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, knowing how treacherous the ocean can be.
“They were experienced sailors, and both lords, powerful magi. They’d challenged the queen too many times to be ignored.”
“You suspect foul play?”
She nods. “They left behind a son, just a boy. He tried to help keep our shop afloat, but competing with the other merchants close to the queen was impossible. We moved our shop to the Underbelly, but within a month we had one of the so-called lords knocking on our door for dues. Said if we didn’t pay, his men would burn our wares. We asked what we were paying for, and they said protection.
“Stupidly, I said, ‘Will you be protectin’ us from yourselves, then?’” She groans and shakes her head. “That was the end of our cloak and hat business.”
“Well, you’ll be happy to know thatlordis likely dead, unless it was the Bloodletter, or the Spider Lord,” I say.
“Never heard of either of them,” she says. “His name was Klein—just Klein. As if he was so notorious he didn’t need another name. He and his gang of red-bandana-wearing bullies. How do you know he’s dead?”
“The Bloodletter and the Spider Lord strung up the other lords on their wedding day and cut them to ribbons in front of their family—so says the Upper Kingdom gossip,” I say.
She laughs darkly, her face scrunched in disgust. “Sounds lovely.”
“It’s quite a statement to make. I’m sure the queen is watching them closely.”
We reach the center of camp and get the fire ready.
“Do you know anything about these remaining lords? Would it be safe for us?” Gizelle asks as we shred coconut husk.
“The Bloodletter came about a few years ago, taking territory from Klein. The Spider’s been around since I was young, maybe ten, I think. The rumors are that they’re both vicious, but their followers adore them, not fear them.”
“Ah, well, better than Klein, it seems. We left ’bout ten years ago. Been making our keep ferrying spices for the Illya Trading Company.”
“Do you like it?”
She shrugs. “We’ve got a decent amount saved up for a place of our own when things settle down back home. Fynren’s always been the place where our hearts live. The mountains, the cliffs. It’s majestic.”
Nostalgia washes through me at her words. I didn’t realize I could feel homesick for a place I hated, but it wasn’t hate for the land, or the people, just the palace and its inhabitants.
“It’ll be safe again sooner than you think,” I say.
She smiles and nods. “I hope so, Amaya.”
The fire burns hot enough, and we set the water over it. I could flash boil it with my power, but I don’t want to reveal myself—even if Gizelle does know who I am. Instead, I sit and wait, smelling the burning coconut husk and letting my mind wander some more.
There’s so much time to think out here on the road. Think about what comes next, how I’ll help Jasper…
Anxiety surges through my veins as I realize I’m not ready to fight yet. I’m still too weak, too untrained. We still have weeks left, and I need to fix that.
