Page 55 of Sword of Rage
She closed the stall gate and joined Ackley.
“How many servants do you employ?” They exited the stables.
“None. Lyle didn’t want anyone around.” She did all the work around the house.
“Why?”
“He was paranoid.” He thought people were spying on him and reporting his movements to someone—who, she had no idea.
They reached the back door. Harley placed her fingers on the handle and froze. Taking this assassin-prince into her house felt too intimate. He saw details and understood things that most people didn’t. Once he went inside, he would know Lyle mistreated her. Would he think less of her?
“Is everything all right?” Ackley asked as he scanned the surrounding land again.
“Yes.” The answer came out weaker than she intended. Taking a deep breath, she slowly let it out and pushed open the door. The familiar smell of Lyle greeted her, making her want to gag. She stepped into the dark kitchen.
“You’re shaking.” Ackley closed the door. Instead of asking her why, he simply passed through the kitchen, pausing at the doorway. “Wait here. I’m going to make sure no one’s in the house.” He slunk away, melting into the shadows.
Harley remained standing there, wishing she was anywhere but back in the house she’d shared with Lyle.
A few minutes later, Ackley returned. “All clear.” He waved her over.
She followed him into the narrow hallway, trying to see things through his eyes. No portraits adorned the walls, no flowers filled the vases, no knitted blankets were on the sofa, and there wasn’t any cut wood for the fireplace.
In the sitting room, Ackley turned in a slow circle. “Where did Lyle spend most of his time?”
“His workshop.” She pointed outside to the other building.
“What about here in the main house?”
“His office.” She led him down a short hallway and to a closed door, gesturing toward it. She’d never been inside. Lyle hadn’t allowed it. He said if she stepped foot in there, he would consider it a violation of his privacy. He said that this was his home, not hers, and as such, she wasn’t afforded a private space of her own since he deemed it unnecessary.
Ackley reached for the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled a dagger from his sleeve, inserted it into the lock, and popped the pin, releasing the door. Slowly pushing it open, he peered inside. “Can you get me a candle?”
Harley went to the kitchen and procured two candles, lighting them. She went back to the entrance of Lyle’s office, handing one to Ackley.
He took it and stepped inside. “You don’t have to do this with me. You can go and prepare for bed. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
With her heart pounding wildly in her chest, she nodded. “You’ll want to look through his workshop as well.” She couldn’t believe she was in Lyle’s house with Ackley and that he was going through Lyle’s possessions.
“I’ll go there after I’m done here.”
“Let me know if you need anything.” She headed up the stairs, several of them creaking under her weight. At the top, she made her way to her bedchamber, hovering at the entrance, not really wanting to go in. But she needed fresh clothes and wanted to pack a few things to take with her.
She went over to the dresser, setting the candle in a holder. Glancing at her reflection, she gasped. Her knotted hair stuck up in all directions and dirt covered her right cheek. Her mother had been right—it looked as if she’d slept with pigs. Her first order of business would be to wash up.
Not wanting to bother heating the water, she grabbed two bucketfuls and dumped them in the wash basin. Then she scrubbed her body. Once she finished, she put on clean clothes and brushed her hair. Afterward, she packed a couple of dresses in her bag.
Since she hadn’t eaten all day, her stomach growled with hunger. She went to the kitchen in search of food. Most of the items had rotted, so she trekked out to the garden. The dark night made it difficult to navigate through the various vegetables. However, she’d planted and maintained this garden, so she knew where each item was. She pulled up a few carrots, some potatoes, and a couple of onions. Back in the kitchen, she proceeded to make soup for her and Ackley.
Not hearing any noises coming from elsewhere in the house, she suspected Ackley had gone out to Lyle’s workshop. The windows were covered and the door always locked, so she had no idea what was even in there since she’d never stepped foot inside. Hopefully, he’d find something useful.
Once the soup was done, she sat and ate in silence. Just like she always did. Lyle oftentimes worked late into the night. When he came home from work, Harley knew what he wanted. After he took his pleasures, he usually retreated to his workshop.
When she finished eating, she pushed the bowl away. The house was eerily silent. Perhaps knowing Lyle wouldn’t come in gave it a new stillness.
Seconds, minutes, hours passed. Time lost all meaning.
Ackley entered through the back door. “What are you doing in the kitchen?”
