Page 31 of The Iron Dagger
“There’s some here,” he said, pulling a plant aside. He grinned at her in triumph, and she returned it. She remembered how triumphant she had felt as a child when she found mushrooms, learning about the difference between delicacy and death. A bittersweet feeling stole through her as Gideon plucked up the mushrooms and Hara held open her satchel.
They crawled along in this way, and he asked, “How did you learn about this? Finding food, I mean.”
“My mother,” she said softly. “She’d take me out to the woods in the spring and she’d let me find whatever it was we were hunting. Then we’d go through my haul together and she’d show me the ones that were dangerous. We ate well when we stayed in the forest.”
“The forest?” he said. “You mean, when . . . ”
“It was feast or famine for us when we were on the run.” Those were uncertain days, filled with silence and whispers, always alert for signs that Corvus’ men were closing in. But she and her mother shared a closeness that Hara had not yet found in her adult life, in neither friend nor lover. Gideon seemed to sense the sadness that touched her.
“What was her name? I never asked,” he murmured.
“Desideria. Desideria Arlook,” she said.
“We’ll find her,” he said, tucking a stray curl back from her face. Hara closed her eyes at the feel of his warm fingertips,a curious sensation of shivery heat following their trail along her cheekbone.
Their faces were close, and the only sounds were their soft breaths and the distant flutings of the forest birds. His eyes traveled down to her mouth, and hers followed suit, caressing the curve of his lower lip.
Yesterday, when he had returned the coins and kept the truth of the girl’s love to himself, she felt herself melt towards him against her will. His hasty response had roiled her anger, and she rushed after him ready for a confrontation. But he surprised her with his moment of hesitancy. When he turned and saw her, his brows knit together in a surly expression as he stomped past her.
Later that night, she had soaked in the heated bath, her belly full and a comfortable bed waiting, all luxuries that he had paid for. She reflected that while she could pay her own way on this journey by using her Sight or her alchemy, what she did with the girl at the inn was little more than trickery, as he had accused. Was she no better than a swindler, contributing to the negative perception of witches?
The conundrum had needled her until she had fallen asleep, and it resurfaced again as she watched his lips part slightly, inviting hers. If she was honest with herself, it felt good to be so desired. To give in and return his attention when she wasn’t sure it could go anywhere would only be another form of trickery.
She remembered the resolution they had made, and it would be far less complicated if they honored it. He seemed to sense the refusal in her eyes as he turned from her, gaining his feet.
“Come. We should reach Mortimer in two hours. It’s the closest border town to Montag.”
SEVEN
Gideon
When they rode into Mortimer, the next town on his homemade map, their breaths had begun to puff before them in the frosty air. A cluster of squat buildings in a muddy clearing made up the town, with green staining the stones. It was as shabby as he remembered, and the inn was no better.
Some men watched them ride up and tie Ruteger to the post.
“You there, could we get some grain and water?” said Gideon.
“Cost extra,” one of the men grunted. Gideon fished out a coin and tossed it to the man. His purse was becoming disconcertingly light, a sensation he was not accustomed to. Somewhere in the forest near Angharad’s home, his saddlebags were strapped to his wandering mount, heavy with coin. If only credit keys worked down south, he thought with frustration, but he pushed the thought aside. They were only a day’s ride from Montag, and from there, he could wield his influence to cover expenses.
He led Hara into the establishment with a gentle touch at her back. A damp odor permeated the room, and smoke swirled through the air with every draft. Some rough looking men sat in a corner and a couple Montag soldiers sat drinking at the hearth. Gideon was glad to see them, for they were a sign that home was near. Tomorrow, he would be back where he belonged andhe could change into his fine attire, bidding farewell to the poxy disguise for good.
All he had to do was last the night resisting the urge to knock on Hara’s door and take her to bed. Unless that was what she wanted. Did the reasons they gave to stay chaste even matter anymore? He did not know, and he was finding himself caring less and less with the passing days.
“I’m going to talk to the cook,” said Hara. “Let’s see if they can prepare what we gathered.”
He watched her wander into a side passage, presumably in search of the kitchen. While he waited on the much-anticipated mushrooms, he ordered two rooms and a tankard from the counter. As he slipped the keys into his pocket, a dark mutter from the hearth reached his ears.
“—has to be a wild one,” said one of the Montag soldiers. “Bold as anything.”
Gideon’s spine stiffened. Hara did not dress ostentatiously, but the common women of Norwen wore modest white caps in public. Her uncovered hair and talk of foraging would give her away as a witch. Free-roaming magic-folk were treated with more than a little suspicion in the north.
There was a group of witch hunters in Corvus’ court that searched for rogue witches to “recruit”. Everyone in Montag knew an untethered witch could not be trusted to their own devices. It was meant to be for their own good—to give them some purpose rather than creating mischief or worse, forming some sort of organized uprising. These “recruited” magic-folk were offered places at court according to their abilities. If they were found to be obstinate and refused, Gideon was not sure what happened then. But he knew he did not want to find out.
“Could take her in for questioning,” said the other soldier. “You never know with that kind. They’re likely all in league with each other.”
“What about him?” the other muttered, and Gideon’s neck tingled unpleasantly.
“Who knows. Dressed in such a way he could be one, too. I don’t pay attention to the men,” he said, and they both guffawed. “He looks wiry, and she’s a pretty one. Might be a bit of sport.”
