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S he had gone to sleep to the sounds of a fight, and she awoke to the same.

It seemed the fighting never stopped at this place.

Delaina had slept long and hard, awakening only when sounds from the common room directly below her roused her from dreams that had been quite pleasant.

She had been running through a field of golden wheat, with the sun warm upon her shoulders and laughter filling the air.

It was her laughter, but someone else was with her, and she could hear his laughter as well.

She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel his hands upon her, strong and warm.

They were having a marvelous time, whatever they happened to be doing, and that was when sounds of furniture being broken had roused her.

An unhappy end to a happy dream.

It took Delaina a moment to orient herself once she opened her eyes.

She was in the room at The Pox, the surprisingly clean room in the surprisingly squalid tavern that every criminal, rake, and trollop seemed to visit.

She was quite certain every murderer and thief in London was down in the common room, because when she had passed through it the previous day, she saw sights she had never seen in her entire life.

She’d never seen such dirty, frightening people.

It had been quite an experience.

But as she awoke that morning, once again she saw the wisdom of Denys’ decision to bring her to this place.

No one would look for her. No one would dare even enter the place looking for her.

She was very safe to the point of her wondering if she shouldn’t simply stay put until she figured out what to do.

The price was right, and she certainly wasn’t going to run out of money, but she may become a little restless boxed up in the room overlooking the river.

Though it seemed a small price to pay for her safety.

Rising from the bed that had been shockingly comfortable, she went about washing up before dressing in a soft lamb’s wool garment.

She had washed in the old bathwater from the night before, using her lavender-scented soap, and then brushing out her hair and loosely braiding it.

She remembered that Magnus had told her he would have food sent to her in the morning so she would not have to leave the room, so she waited patiently for her morning meal to make an appearance as she repacked her satchels.

She had thrown her possessions into them so quickly that several of them were wadded up and wrinkled.

She made a mental note to ask for hot water when they brought her food, because the steam could help smooth out her garments.

And she waited.

It wasn’t until midmorning that the rap finally came on her door.

She rushed to the panel but did not unlock it, instead asking who had knocked.

The reply was garbled, but it was a female, so she figured that she was safe enough.

She threw the bolt and unlocked the door, then opened it up to a serving wench bearing a tray of food.

The woman took the tray over to the table and set it down.

She was an older woman, with a tattered but clean dress, an apron that had seen better days, and her red hair shoved up into a cap.

She talked nonstop from the moment she entered the door, but she had a deformity on her mouth and her words were difficult to understand.

In spite of that, Delaina thought she was quite friendly, and tried to listen closely as the woman spoke of the weather, of a ship full of men from Copenhagen that had just arrived, and then began to talk about her own daughter for some reason.

Delaina simply stood there and nodded.

As the woman chatted up a storm, she gathered the dishes from the previous night.

She also mentioned something about returning to remove the tub.

It was then that Delaina asked for hot water, but the woman said she would do one better.

Delaina’s hearth had a big iron arm that was made for hanging a pot over the flame, and she told Delaina that she would bring her an iron pot with water so that she could have hot water anytime she wished.

Delaina thought that was quite generous.

Then there was another crash in the common room down below, and the woman suddenly fled and slammed the door behind her.

Delaina was appalled to think that a woman such as that might be expected to quell any fights, but she soon forgot her outrage in favor of her rumbling stomach.

She was quite hungry, so she threw the bolt and went over to the table where the food waited.

She removed the cloth covering the feast and was greeted by simple but plentiful fare of baked eggs swimming in a wine sauce and small pasties stuffed with some kind of meat.

She stuck her finger in the wine sauce and found it quite delightful.

There was also bread and butter and stewed apples.

Sitting down, she picked up the wooden spoon that came with the meal and dived in.

Delaina ate until she could eat no more.

The baked eggs were stuffed with breadcrumbs and mushrooms and were delicious.

The little pasties were stuffed with roast pork and were also very good.

The bread was fresh, as was the butter, so the entire meal was shockingly good.

Meals at taverns could vary a great deal in quality, so she was pleased to see that The Pox had good food.

That would make her stay much more pleasant.

Once her meal was finished, Delaina cleaned up the table and went to tidy up her bed.

Noise from the river caught her attention, and she found herself wandering to the window, watching the activity outside.

Her window was right over the front door of the tavern, so she stood back to make sure she wasn’t seen by anyone outside, but she did have quite a good view and found herself interested in a world she had never really experienced before.

As she had told Magnus the night before, her early years had been spent in Cornwall, which wasn’t exactly a metropolitan shire.

There were cities in Cornwall, of course, but nothing like London.

Okehampton Castle had been one of the remoter castles in England, so she’d led a rather sleepy life there, as well.

Her first taste of a more sophisticated existence had been when she went with her father to Somersby Castle.

Somersby had been quite busy, with a standing army of a thousand men and more people in and out of the castle than she had ever seen in her life.

But even then, Delaina had been kept like a bird in a gilded cage, forbidden from interacting with anyone other than the earl and her father and a few select others.

Every lord she had been with had treated her the same way, keeping her hidden away, saved and protected like a precious jewel would have been.

But unlike a cold, hard jewel, Delaina had life and emotion, and the isolation had been difficult.

That was one of the things she had regretted the most as a courtesan—being kept from people.

Being forbidden to interact with anyone at all other than her master.

In that sense, she had been kept like a prisoner.

Perhaps that was why she had been so determined to flee when Daventry died.

The prison had burned down, and she was suddenly free.

But freedom would mean nothing if she didn’t have a plan in place.

Magnus had asked her to sleep on those plans.

He had asked her to think about what she wanted to do, realistically, and then he would come and see her at some point today to help her do what she needed to do.

The truth was that she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do now that the shock of her abrupt freedom had worn off.

She had her money with her, and clothes that she had purchased herself, but she had left so much behind.

Oddly enough, she didn’t really care. The items she’d left behind were like golden chains keeping her tied down to a life that no woman should be forced to live.

Now she was going to have to start all over again without those golden trappings, and she really didn’t mind.

For the first time in her life, she had her self-respect, but the fact remained—what did she want to do?

That was a very good question.

Delaina thought about everything they’d discussed last night, from the cloister to moving to France and pretending to be a rich widow.

She thought about it most of the afternoon, and it was still rolling through her mind when someone knocked softly at her door just before sunset.

Thinking it was the serving wench finally returning with the pot she’d promised, she went to the panel.

“Who comes?” she asked.

“Magnus.”

Startled, and perhaps a bit excited that he’d finally made an appearance, she threw the bolt and yanked the door open. Magnus stood there, larger than life in full battle regalia, and she motioned him forward.

“Come in, please,” she said.

He obeyed, coming into the chamber and filling it up with his size and strength.

He had his helm on, the first time she’d seen him wearing it, but he removed it the moment he came inside.

That was the mannerly thing to do. Delaina threw the bolt, but when she turned to look at him, with the light of day pouring through the window, she got a good look at just how handsome he really was.

For a moment, her breath caught in her throat.

“Good day to you, Magnus,” she said, sputtering over her words a little as she tried to reclaim her composure. “You have returned.”

She was stating the obvious, perhaps out of surprise, and he cocked an eyebrow. “I told you that I would,” he said. “I apologize that it is so late, however. I was up all night as the feast dissolved and drunken warlords headed home, so I slept during the day.”