She shifted and felt the pull of rope at her wrists, securing her to a chair, much as she’d tied Reaper, only her bonds were much more experienced. This must be penance for what she’d done to him.
A cough rasped from the far side of the room.
Her gaze snapped toward the sound, heart kicking against her breast. A shape hunched in the corner, knees drawn up, coat rumpled.
Sun and stars! “Mr. Rollings?” Relief surged so quickly it startled her, followed almost immediately by a pinch of guilt. She’d quite forgotten about the man. And from his state, he’d been here for a while!
He lifted his head. The shadows did little to soften the pallor of his face or the bruising that spread from his temple down the side of his face. One arm rested in a makeshift sling, and blood coated his cravat. “Ah, Miss Turner, you are finally awake.”
“How long ago did I arrive?” She must have been dead to the world if she had slept through being strapped up like this!
“About an hour or so, I believe.”
“I—” Her throat caught, but she had to dislodge this uneasiness from her heart once and for all. “I’m sorry. For that night. I was there, I saw them hit you, but I ran away.”
“You did the right thing, Miss Turner.” His lips twitched in something that might have been a smile, though it was gone too quickly to name. “John would not have forgiven me if any harm had befallen you. He might have my head anyway. I should never have requested you to meet me at such an ungodly hour at such an ungodly place.”
“Why did you?” she asked softly.
“I wasn’t thinking straight.” He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. “I thought I was being followed and didn’t want to lead them to your shop. Things went wrong, nevertheless.”
“An understatement.”
He chuckled. “I overheard three men looking for a girl. They asked about a woman with fair hair. They mentioned you by name.” His gaze found hers. “Your real name.”
Calliope swallowed a gasp. “Mr. Fitz told you.”
He nodded. “Rest assured, I shall never betray his confidence. But I’m getting too old for this.” His mouth quirked in a humorless way.
Cold prickled at the back of her neck. It could only have been Duvessa’s men, couldn’t it?
“Do you know if they are still in town?”
Mr. Rollings shook his head. “If they haven’t found you yet, they may have moved on.”
A girl could hope.
She forced herself to search the room they were being held in. Rough plank walls. A single door. No visible guards. But theywerethere. She could feel them. The masked men. Maxen’s enemies.
She tested the ropes securing her wrists, grimacing. She wouldn’t be able to break free on her own.
Rollings caught the motion. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “They’ll hear.”
“They?” That was hardly reassuring. She drew a long, steadying breath. “Someone will come, Mr. Rollings. In fact, they may be on their way already.” Maxen. He’d come. If he was still alive, he’d come.
Mr. Rollings coughed again. “Ah, Miss Turner. Do not tell me you believe in knights on steeds?”
“Not knights, no.” Though one of them was literally called Knight. “The Furys.”
That earned her an incredulous, almost pitying look. “Fury? Then you have met them?”
“Maxen Fury is my landlord.” Amongst other things.
The comical look that passed across his features almost made her laugh. “Then it must be fate. You put your faith in him?”
“I do.” So blasted much.
Another sigh. “I wish you had heeded my warning.”
