Page 5

“Poor boy. He near clean ripped your ear off.” Lyss cleaned up the rum and lit a candle with a match from her apron, letting the slight warmth and light dance while she heated the needle.

The wax thread hung limply, and despite Asha’s hesitancy to receive it, she did have very nice stitches.

Her needlepoint was the best in the keep.

“Poor me, poor me. When do I ever get to hear ‘Lucky you!’” Asha sighed.

She glanced about conspiratorially. “I know. And when I heard the ruckus going on upstairs after you were sent down again, I knew I had to come see ya. They’re brokering a deal for you, getting ye married off.”

Asha groaned under his breath. “What slack-jawed viper have they promised me to?”

“Don’t right know. I heard him shouting at the missus, saying you was off gabbing with someone you ought not to be, and had caught her fancy. They’s willing to pay a dowry, I heard.”

“A dowry? What would someone be willing to pay for a bastard with a penchant for flowers?” Asha huffed and hissed when the needle jammed through his skin. “Balthier’s sake, woman. Sharpen your needles!”

“I would, but your beard splitter of a father confiscated every whetstone in the keep. I’d only been using a broken bit o’ one for a while.” She sighed heavily. “Damn dragons. All the treasure in the world and we’re squabbling over broken whetstones.”

“Too right, I guess. Treasure stolen from our lands and our kings. Kidnapping our women—”

“Lads too. I bet there are fair few lady dragons in want of a strapping male.” She winked.

Why couldn’t it be me for a strapping male?

“I can’t fault them there, Lyss, but I can fault them for their refusal to fight. Good people die every day and they sit up in their mountains like gods among the masses and judge us all.” Asha hissed and squirmed. It didn’t matter, though. It wasn’t their war.

“Not like we’re any better…” Lyss paused for a moment at her work. “But things will improve. We’ve nowhere to go but up!”

Silence spread between them like darkness creeping upon dusk, a blanket of the eyes’ quiet. “Lyss?”

She pulled her thread taut and poised her needle once more. “Hmm?”

“What do I do with a woman? How am I to be a husband?”

“Well, if your father and brothers are any indication, you should find the wet spot and thrust your hips until you spend your last.” The vulgar thought made him shiver.

“Do you like it?”

“Gods no! From my mouth to Baltheir’s ear! The many-faced god can be my witness! Having my skirts tossed by them is so boring I’ve contemplated asking for a book to read while they’re at it.”

“Can you even read?” Asha laughed.

“No, but it damn well makes a point! Doesn’t it?”

“I suppose. Then why are the girls so excited about it?” Asha winced as she pushed the needle in.

“Why are you so excited about boys? It could feel good if done right… I mean. I dunno. Never had a man I wanted.” She quieted as the thread ran taut again and her needle dove to flesh.

“That’s a shame. You’re a good woman, Lyss. I wish you could have a man you wanted.”

“You know, in the interest of this woman’s skirt whiskers, I could show you. You know. Not like it means anything to me.”

“I’ve seen a woman naked before. Adrianna spent a lot of time accidentally being indecent in my presence last summer. Why is her left one so much bigger than the right?” Asha cupped his hands at his chest.

“Why is your left bauble hanging lower than yer right? Probably how the many-faced god made us? Maybe the bigger teat makes better milk or the lower bauble the best seed? But don’t be daft.

I could give you a few lessons on how to make a girl happy.

May not make you happy but would do the world a bit of a favor. ”

“But why me, Lyss? I appreciate the offer, I do, but why?”

“You know when that old Mollycat had that litter with the kittens all wrong?” Lyss went about tying thread off before snipping it. She’d be working the other side of it in a moment.

“Yeah. The tom was her own—ooooh. The earl is noble blood, but my mother wasn’t. If their family tree looks more like knitting, I suppose it would make sense…” Asha rubbed his chin. All the while, he thought it’d be nice if maybe men could have their own children, not bring a woman into it.

“Look. Let me go get freshened up and I’ll come give you a lesson. You don’t have to touch me if you don’t want, but I can give you a bit o’ a tour.”

“I mean, if you don’t want it, and I don’t want it, what’s the point?” Asha’s brow furrowed, tugging at the light sunburn he’d got during the day.

“Who says I don’t want it? I’d love to be able to rub it in Adriana and Sandi’s noses that I got to get a taste of the bastard viscount!”

“You get a romp with the earl and the viscounts already. Why am I special?” Asha laughed.

“Because you’re such a pretty boy. You’re like sin incarnate, all soft blue eyes like sapphires and teeth so white and pretty. Bet you’ve never lost a man’s tooth.”

“I have not. I make a point to chew a bitter stick every evening and morning to keep the creeping rot from my teeth.” Asha grinned, offering her his widest smile.

“Gorgeous! Alright, then. Think of some strapping young lad and I’ll be down after the torches are out to come show you around a woman’s kettle.”

“Kettle?”

“Heat me up enough and I’ll whistle for ye’.” She winked at him and blew the candle out before scurrying away. He didn’t look forward to the lesson she wanted to offer, but a chance at escape meant he had to do his duty to crown and kingdom.

When Lyss never returned, he let himself sleep, closing his eyes to wait for morning, and perhaps some food. He snuck from the horses’ trough for water during the day, and he could go awhile without food, but his stomach twisted.

When morning came, he waited for his father, the clanging of grates, foul words, and more demeaning chores, but it didn’t come.

***

At some point during the day, the narrow beam of light that spread down the dungeon hall from the door spread wide and a feminine shape graced it. He perked up, excited to see Lyss, but the countess came into view. He wanted in her skirts far less than Lyss and had no business being near the woman.

She stared at him through the bars, her watery pale eyes full of questions and unsaid words.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Lady Wyverncrest?” Asha stood to attention and bowed slightly. It was ordinarily custom for a woman to take her husband’s house name, but her higher-blood status afforded her to keep the house name.

She didn’t speak right away but rather watched him with uncertainty.

“It dawns upon me that I know very little about you.” Her voice trailed off, soft and mild, well-versed in the northern dictions, hair bronzed gold, not quite the fire of the Ramolian people, a descendant of the Saurians, but certainly influenced in its long line.

It was said that drop of fire in their blood from their people were the only things that made the wyverns trust them.

“It wouldn’t be proper, my lady. I am not the trophy to hold high.” He cast his gaze to the floor and she neared the bars, too close. Asha stepped back, wanting neither strike nor insinuation.

“I cannot apologize enough.” Her voice cracked and Asha glanced up, stricken.

“The earl cannot control his indulgences. My existence does not require your apology, my lady.” Asha offered her his best smile, the one that made the girls swoon, and her eyes went misty.

“You’re not his bastard, Asha.” She extended a hand through the bars and beckoned him, drawing Asha shamefully, letting her cup his cheek as she whispered, “You’re mine.”

His heart twisted. “What?”

“Why do you think he hated you so but let the stableboys alone? Half of them have his weak jaw, you noticed?” She smiled ruefully.

“I don’t understand. You birthed me?” He’d dare not insinuate she was his mother.

She nodded, tears streaming, beautiful even in tears. “Earl Tippin was my second husband. My first died in war and when you were born, I was arranged to him. You bear the price of Ramolian royal blood. None else would take me, and I refused to orphan you.”

“Ramolian?” He pulled back in disgust, lip curling. The golden hue to his hair and blue eyes were from her, not the earl’s blond and wet blue eyes.

“Shh.” She glanced toward the stairs, focusing up the stairs for a lingering moment. “Drat… I’ll be back when I can.”

“Elin!” the earl’s voice barked, carrying through the halls.

“Don’t bother.” Asha stepped away, shaking his head.

“You’re here to make yourself feel better, not me.

Far too late to have given me any sort of affection, mother dearest. Your gifts were kind, though.

” Asha took a few harsh breaths, fists curling as she stared at him with fear and guilt before running off, her shoes clipping against stone.

Asha returned to his indentation of hay and snuggled small into the depression to find his warmth as the world around him grew dim and comfortable.

“Boy!” The earl slammed his fist against the bars, keeping Asha from gaining that last bit of sleep. He opened one eye wearily, earning a sneer of disgust.

“My lord?” Asha carried himself back up to the bars and lowered his head, inches beyond his reach.

“Was Elin down here, spouting nonsense at you?”

“Elin? Oh. The Countess Wyverncrest… Why would she want to speak to me, my lord?” Asha was a terrible liar but wonderful at asking questions.

“Don’t turn your cheek to me, boy. Answer!”

“I have no business with the countess. I’d assume she’d want nothing to do with me, considering my station.

” Asha let the insinuation of meaning fill between words, but truthfully, he had no idea why he lied to the earl, though it certainly explained a lot of his anger.

Asha was the living proof of another man’s conquest of his wife.

“And it should stay that way. She’d do well to keep her distance or meet the same fate as your flippant chambermaid.” The earl laughed. Not his usual titter at a joke he’d made, or a chuckle at the misfortune of another, but the dark chortle of a man who’d done something vile.

“What did you do?” Asha glanced up, his heart racing.

“Did what the law mandated for whores and slatterns in this country. She hanged this morning. My boys have been digging her grave today. If I didn’t think you’d turn savage, I’d have you dig her hole.

My apologies you won’t be there for the funeral, but I did give the chambermaids an hour after breakfast off to mourn.

But really? Turning her skirts for you, flower boy?

I should have drowned you, but that would have caused problems. At least you have some value. ”

Asha went cold. Half of him had a burning fire in his chest and wanted to lash out and slam the bars, claw at the earl’s throat.

The other half of him wanted to return to the comfort of his hay bed and sleep the awful nightmare away.

“Rather I’d be a flower boy than whatever species of promiscuous rodent you are. ”

Earl Tippin snarled and hesitated, his hand hovering near his belt where the key to the keep and cells hung.

Asha stared directly into his eyes and waited, mentally daring him to open that door, but he seemed to have that much sense about him.

Asha huffed humorlessly and turned back, stalking to his hay bed, where nothing else would bother him that day. He vowed it.

As sleep took him fitfully, tears following his dreams, a soft voice called to him, Asha. What pains you?