“It will be too much water. We should go over the top,” he insisted.
“That path is far more strenuous,” countered Alex. “And we’ll be exposed to the sun with very little shade.”
“If you are wrong,” he sneered, “we shall be wading our horses through an angry river rather than a stream.”
“I’m not wrong, good sir. There have been no storms to disturb the flow of water.”
Philippe mounted his horse and trotted over to them. “We are ready to leave. What is the problem?”
“My Lord,” said Henri. “Your guide here wishes to travel through a blocked path to gain a little shade. ‘Tis not safe. We must go over the hill rather than through it or risk the danger of unrestrained water against our horses.”
“Ah, Henri,” Alex teased. “I think you are more worried about getting your fancy boots wet than your horse.”
“My boots?” Henri blustered. “These cost more than a penny, young lady!”
“Okay, okay,” said Philippe. He turned his head. “Alex?”
“We face no issue traveling the path I have suggested. It is safe. The call is yours,Monsieur,” she replied, looking at him with deference.
Philippe looked from Henri to Alex, weighing both of their arguments. In the end, he had sworn to treat her no different than any other guide he had worked with. “It is simple,” he said. “We go where our guide guides us.” He grinned at Henri. “If she is wrong, we can hold it over her head the rest of the journey.” Philippe then turned and called for the men to start.
He gave it no more thought and left the two of them to sort it out. But the small smile she had tried to hide wasn’t lost on him.
Chapter Ten
Their destination for the night was Peillon, a timeworn village set right on the edge of a cliff in theCote d’Azurwith a spectacular view of the valley and the little chimney-topped farmhouses that inhabited it. Alex had stayed in Pellion several times during her trips up and down the region and she knew it well. It had stone walkways with an elaborate network of steep streets and uneven stairs. Grey green olive trees decorated its small gardens, and a modest church stood at the center with a pearlescent red mosaic fountain before it. The town itself had been untouched by the rebel group, but the patchwork farms in the valley below had not been so lucky. These were the closest attacks to Chevalerie to date.
As the party traveled the valley, Alex could see Peillon up ahead, jutting out into the late afternoon sunlight. But the farmland they were crossing was steeped in a smoky haze that stung her nose and caught in her throat. As they continued through the heavy air, they came upon the remains of the latest attack. They would investigate the farm in the morning, but the party still slowed as they passed. Alex remembered the farm. Once a cheery place with olive trees lining the drive, it was now a black skeleton that still singed the air. Even the animals had not yet returned to investigate the area, shrouding the valley in an eerie silence which was broken only by the tinkling of sheep’s bells, reaching their ears from far off herds.
A short while later, after having come through the valley, they reached Peillon and arrived at the inn. Alex settled her horse and entered the stonework building, to find Philippe already negotiating with the innkeeper.
“I just need the beds in the barracks and the one private room,monsieur,” said Philippe.
“I tell you, I do not allow prostitution in this establishment,” the wiry haired innkeeper blustered.
“She is our guide. I assure you...” Philippe started.
“I mean the girls can do what they want in the tavern next door,” the innkeeper continued. “That’s none of my business.”
“The private room is not for prostitution,” Philippe said to the man. Philippe rubbed his forehead, looking frustrated.
“In fact, I quite enjoy the little redhead myself,” the innkeeper said as if Philippe had not even spoken. The man held a finger up. “But not in these rooms.”
Philippe put the money on the counter and reached across the desk to grab the key. He pushed the key into the innkeeper’s hands. He nodded towards Alex. “Her,” he said.
The innkeeper bustled over to her. “Come, girl. No male visitors. There are several spots available outside the tavern for that. But not in here.”
Alex looked back at Philippe. He shrugged and turned to join the rest of their party.
She knew this inn and this innkeeper. She’d battled with him before. Whenever in towns, she alwaystriedto get herself a private room, but they were usually double the price and innkeepers were suspicious of single female travelers. Instead, she would often eat, pay to wash, and then camp outside. But traveling with this party, she had standing she wasn’t used to. So she kept her mouth shut, nodded three more times to promise she wouldn’t bring any men back to the inn, and let herself be left alone in a lovely little room. With access to a private balcony!
For a moment, Alex forgot the disturbing scene they had passed in the valley. She rushed across the room and threw open the balcony doors. She leaned over the edge as far as she could to see the valley they had crossed. The sunset blazed the smoky fields in gold and blended the sky from the bright blue above her to fiery orange on the horizon. She breathed in the clean air, thinner and sweeter this high up, as the wind pulled the curtains out toflutter around her. In all her time on the road, she’d never had a view like this all to herself. It was so much more than she needed, and her first instinct was to give it away, or share it, or... something. She didn’t know why Philippe had gone out of his way to allow her this extravagance.
But she couldn’t deny, it sure felt great.
A little while later, after taking the chance to wash and luxuriate in her beautiful room, Alex entered the dining hall of the tavern. By then, the men were well into their drink, and the opportunistic women from town were well into the men. Bernard and Luc led the pack, smashing their cups together before every drink. Sébastien, far more interested in the women than the alcohol, had a light-haired doll on his lap, who was busy giving him chances to look down her bosom. The newly married Auguste shook his head at a dame and took a hard drink from his mug while another pretty woman with thick powder on her face picked several coins from Maurice’s belt. Before Alex could decide if she should tell him, Maurice stole them right back while the woman gave a flirty grin over her shoulder to someone else.
The barmaid brought Alex some stew and crusty bread with a plate of olive oil. Alex’s stomach growled as she tore at the bread. The only one missing from the hall, she noticed, was Philippe. She imagined the other private room in the inn had gone to him. Was he already there with some woman who had charmed him? That bastard, she thought, her mood changing. She picked up her fork and stabbed at a chunk of meat in the stew.
