His hands jerked, her words landing too harshly for his quick “No” to be believed.
A good thing, then, that she hadn’t been impulsive enough to voice any of her thoughts for exclusivity. For something more.
“I see.” Calya finished doing up her shirt. “Then I’ll be on my way.”
No fussing. She’d extricated herself from similar situations a time or two. Maybe not quite the same, where if she’d had any feelings they might be in danger of being… not hurt, but bruised. Like her poor ribs that he’d been happy to exploit the night before.
She silenced a sigh. Of course the moment she found a man who could handle her at night, he turned out to be moody and fragile in the morning. She had the will to defuse touchy situations in business. To make herself amenable. But Goddess fucking break her before she tiptoed around the bedroom.
“Wait.” Lowe held his hand to stop her. “Sorry. Calya, it’s just…”
“I’m going to need more than that.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across his lips. “A lot happened last night. I’ll explain more later, but I’ve got a general location for where Avenor moved his side project. There’s another site west of the one we found yesterday.”
Calya’s irritation vanished as excitement took its place. “What happened?” she demanded, stuffing her feet back into her boots.
“Eren Galwynd fled late last night. Some kind of deal made with Froley. He gave up some info on what’s happening here in exchange for a boat out.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Calya asked. “We could’ve been?—”
“You were practically dead on your feet. Rolled down a hill?—”
“A very steep one.”
“—almost fell off a roof…”
“Yes, yes, and took a tumble with a ranger. Multiple.” She waved her hand dismissively. “This is bigger than all of that.”
“Galwynd also confirmed the Coalition’s involvement,” Lowe said. “We need to be careful. The sick villagers Ollas and the others are treating, and the dirt we found… it’s like the poison in Rhell.”
Calya stared at him, the enormity of his words evaporating whatever blithe humor she’d felt. “We need to find the other site.” She went back to buttoning her shirt, turning away as she cast about for the rest of her clothes. “You have to use the wind. Find the fastest way— I need to talk to Eunny. See if Froley can…”
Her mind leapt from one thought to another. She gathered her old clothes from the floor, grimacing at how they’d dried stiff and crunchy on top but were still damp where they’d lain against the ground. At least her cloak was decent, though its weather resistance charm was badly in need of freshening.
Noise outside the window drew her attention. Staying to the side, she glanced through the semi-sheer curtains to see the Avenor Guard contingent milling about in front of the inn. Lieutenant Orren spoke to a stablehand, their conversation inaudible from Calya’s vantage point. The lad trotted off soon enough, and the gist of the conversation was clear: Avenor Guard was getting ready to ride out. But to where?
“It looks like Orren’s boys—” Calya glanced toward Lowe, realizing a beat late that he hadn’t responded to her last comment.
He’d gone rigid, eyes wary as he stared at her.
“Don’t. I can’t ask the wind for this,” he murmured. “I’ve been calling it too much already.”
There was no heat in the words. They were cold. Cold and carefully said, with a guardedness that lanced through her. That seared across something still in the vulnerable stages of new growth, cutting deep. How quickly he assumed the worst of her. That she was no different from the family who’d used him for their trivial wants.
Lowe didn’t trust her. Or didn’t trust himself with her. The distinction mattered little in the end.
Somewhere along the way, despite her best intentions, Calya had let a few threads of trust form. Thin as frog hair, and thus as easily broken, but spun into being all the same. A minor investment, but a true one, the kind she so rarely allowed herself. Given the wariness in Lowe’s face, almost yet not quite masking a glimmer of pain, he must’ve reached a similar conclusion. The both of them, surrendering to a touch of sentiment.
She couldn’t let that stand. Not when Helm Naval was within reach.
“Don’t be so serious, ranger,” she said, with as much haughty indifference as she could muster. She jerked her head to indicate the window. “AG is gearing up for something. Think they know about the runaway mage?”
Lowe frowned at her. Wavered, as if he might press. Might demand that whatever was off between them be cleared up, to whatever end. It was unknown territory for Calya, being with someone who cared enough to take that time. To discuss. She wasn’t sure if she wanted it or not, and wasn’t that an alarming thought?
But he merely shook his head, grabbing his shoulder harness and buckling it into place instead. “I don’t think Froley would’ve told them, but I don’t know what else Galwynd did before he bolted. He’s confessed everything to his king already.”
So, it was to be strictly business between them. She could do that.
