Page 76 of Ruthless Scoundrel
“Fine.” I sigh and rip off the end of the loaf that I haven’t touched, then hand it to Jasper. “But I need new clothes and boots.”
He smirks. “You do, and I know just the place.”
“What—”
“Eat,” he interrupts, thrusting a fish at me.
I sigh, knowing not to fight him by now. I eat the roasted fish, which is subpar compared to the ones Jasper cooks over a fire, but there’s no way I’ll admit that. When it’s all down, we wash our hands in the little basin beside the chamber pot and collect our sparse things.
I stick close to Jasper’s side as we step out into the early morning of the bustling port. It’s full of sailors and merchants, people hocking their goods, offering things that sailors need, and prostitutes…so many prostitutes.
Jasper’s hand is tight on mine as we walk through the wide, dirty alleys full of carts and horses, people shouting and whores calling. Dark circles line the women’s eyes, and they smell ofwhisky. I don’t think they’ve slept yet. I shed a silent tear for them as I watch the women sell their bodies and their lives, but for what? For a slice of bread? My jewelry could’ve bought them enough bread for their whole lives.
What a waste.
Jasper pulls me into a shop that smells sharply of chemicals. It’s dark, illuminated by soft magus lights, and there’s armor all over the walls. Mostly leather, but some random chainmail and cloth too. It’s a hodgepodge, and certainly not all from the same creator. It must be a consignment shop.
“Boots sized for a lady who needs to walk and a belt for a man who needs to protect her,” Jasper says as he walks into the shop.
There’s an older Illyan woman behind the crooked wood counter. At first, her dark brow furrows in frustration, but the more Jasper talks, the more anger leaks out of her face, replaced by shock, and teary-eyed happiness.
She runs out from behind the sales counter with a limp, her arms outstretched for him. She wears a dark, pocketed apron over her loose white shirt and has brown loafers on her feet. Her hair is braided in the Illyan way with beads and carved runes woven into the binds.
The woman says something in Illyan as she throws her outstretched arms around Jasper’s neck. He embraces her, releasing my hand to pat her back. She pulls away after a second and examines him with fondness. Then her gaze falls to me and turns cold.
She asks Jasper something I don’t understand, and he replies in Illyan. I can tell by his tone it’s an excuse. She smacks him on the back of the head and pushes him aside, then turns to me, her lips pressed into a fine, angry line. “Girl, are you here of your own free will?”
Am I? I wasn’t weeks ago but now…
“Yes, I am. I’m going to help him,” I say.
Her eyes narrow as she looks me over, then glares at Jasper. “You’ve taken poor care of her. I taught you better.”
She turns away without hearing Jasper’s excuses and goes behind her counter, disappearing into the back.
I look at Jasper. “Who is that?”
He leans closer to me. “She caught me stealing years ago, whipped my ass raw, then gave me shoes. She’s helped me get a handle on thisbeing a Manthing.”
“Ah,” I say, at a loss for anything else. “But what’s her name?”
Jasper stands there, shock freezing his features. “I just called herMeianha.”
“Which means?”
“For lack of a better translation, auntie.”
“WellIcan’t call her auntie!” I whisper-yell at him.
“Why not?” he asks.
“Because I don’t evenknow her!”
She emerges from the back with a comfortable-looking dress over one arm, a tunic and pants over the other, and a pair of boots pinched in each hand.
“Travel clothes. I can take them in for you,” she says, dumping most of it on Jasper as she holds the dress up against my shoulders. I take a step back on instinct, not wanting to be touched, but she advances on me as if I hadn’t moved.
I hold still and watch as the woman measures me with her eyes.
