“You’ve read that—” He broke off, seeming too furious to form words. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and Alys could see his nostrils flaring. In the pose he almost looked like a monk at prayer.
Perhaps a monk with a mangy dog on his head.
After several moments he looked at her once more, having seemingly regained his composure. “It is winter in England, Lady Alys. You and I are on the cusp of a barren forest where, despite the tales of magical wood people who roam through it unseen, survival is not only difficult, ‘tis unlikely. You have followed me against my advice and now expect me to care for you because you have no rations, save a few pieces of exotic fruit that likely cost more than what I see in a year, and which you are saving for a monkey.”
“Well, I’m sorry you were so poorly compensated at your work, but she has to eat, Piers.”
“I’ll eat herandher fucking pomegranate!”
He looked so outraged that Alys couldn’t help but laugh, especially since Layla took that moment to voice a timid and worried-sounding yip. Perhaps it was only fatigue, but she was finding him to be quite witty when he was angry. She laughed and laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks.
“‘Twould be … only fair … since”—Alys gasped around her peals—“she’s already … had a taste ofyou!”
To her surprise, Piers started to chuckle. In a moment, they were both grabbing their stomachs and wiping at their eyes. Layla scrambled down from Alys’s shoulder and removed herself to the sanity of the fallen trees, wringing her hands and chattering nervously. It was several moments before their chuckles dwindled, and Alys sighed contentedly, pleased at how much better she felt. Besides being hungry, of course. But she daren’t bring up that subject again to her prickly husband so soon.
“So, do we sleep now?” she asked, pleasantly, she thought.
He shook his head. “I sleep. You walk.” He pointed along arm toward the way she’d come. “That direction. ‘Tis unsafe for you here.”
“Why is it unsafe? I daresay I’m much less likely to have misfortune befall me while I’m under your protection than if I should be traversing the countryside alone.”
He again shook his head, more emphatically this time and with a pained-looking grimace, as if the mangy dog on his head was beset by fleas. “No. See you the scars I bear? They were given to me by a man who meant to see me dead. If he is not already looking for me, he shall be soon enough. ‘Tis why I travel at night. Alone,” he added with a stern frown.
“My, thatdoessound dangerous. Where are you going?”
“That is not your concern.”
“As your wife, I think—”
“You are not my wife!”Alys jumped at the ferocity of his words. “You are a spoiled little girl who has had a row with her sister and thinks to spite her by running away.”
“I am not spoiled,” Alys said, completely offended. “And I am not a girl.”
“Look at you,” Piers demanded, gesturing to where she sat in her puddle of skirt and cloak. “Your gown is fit for royalty—what is it? Perse?”
Alys was too shocked to answer. Any matter, he continued.
“That looks to be sable inside your cloak. You’ve run away from grand Fallstowe Castle in your jeweled headdress with your exotic pet and an embroidered silk bag, likely because your sister wouldn’t let you have a new pony or some other nonsense. You’ve convinced yourself that you’re married to me, a commoner who doesn’t have two coins to rub together, and you’rehappyabout that because it will perturb your sister. You wouldthoughtlessly risk a vast fortune such is your family’s out of childish, petulant spite. Youarea foolishgirl,and I take no responsibility for your asinine judgment, or lack thereof.”
Alys had been on the receiving end of stinging dressing-downs since her mother had died, so Piers’s lecture should not have fazed her. But it did. Here he was, a veritable stranger, and yet he had used many of the same words her sister had. Spoiled. Childish. Foolish. Somehow, the terms stung more coming from this man than they ever had flicked from Sybilla’s cool tongue.
“I am only dressed this way because Sybilla and I had a falling-out during the winter feast. I didn’t take time to change. I don’t wear clothing like this all the time—I even brought my everyday gown with me.”
“Oh, youreverydaygown! What is it made of? Gold?”
“No, it’s woolen,” she said calmly. “And I didn’t leave Fallstowe because I was denied a pony, you heartless ass. Sybilla is to see me married to the Lord of Blodshire in thirty days because I would not cow to her unreasonable demands. If anyone acted out of spite, ‘twas her.”
“I know of Blodshire. ‘Twould be a noble enough match for you, a younger sister. Why would you take such a pairing as spiteful?”
Alys blinked. “Have youmetClement Cobb?”
“I’ve not had the pleasure of Clement’s acquaintance in some years, but I do know of his mother. Nasty old bitch.”
“Isn’t she?”
“Indeed.”
She shrugged. “Well, at least we have something in common. Sybilla only did it because I refused to bow and scrape to her in front of our guests. Because I would not stand to be insulted by Clement’s awful mother. Because I would not allow Etheldred to further abuse poor Layla.And because I would not apologize for speaking the truth. So if that is childish, then I suppose I am.”
