Chapter 05 #2
In his eyes, a bright light sparkled. “You are so fond of doing the exact opposite of my requests. I am tempted to simply conclude this matter by ordering you out of my room.” He chuckled. “I bet if I commanded you to hate me, you would love me out of spite.”
Hilarious.
“If you don’t need your tongue, Inquisitor, just say it directly and I’ll rip it out.”
“If you want my tongue, witch, just say it directly and I will oblige—” The inquisitor froze, then looked aside as a deep crimson washed over his ears and neck. Passing a hand through his hair, he cleared his throat. “… My deepest apologies. That was … inappropriate.”
Bemused, Semras blinked, her anger doused by his sudden mood change.
Velten had flirted with her. She hadn’t misunderstood, and this wasn’t some common platitude or compliment; he really had. And then, he … apologized for it? She blinked again, unsure of how to respond. Was it a trick? But for what?
Somewhere in the inn, snores filled the silence of the night.
When he broke it at last, his tone had turned wistful. “Do not trust anyone.”
“… What?” she breathed.
“I myself cannot afford to trust but a select few,” he continued, blush abating.
“The sword-bearers are not part of my usual retinue, and certainly not part of the few trusted. I promised to protect you, and I will. As minor as the incident earlier was, it should not have happened at all. I take full responsibility for it.”
Semras was speechless. Who was that man standing in front of her, wearing the face of Inquisitor Velten? Where was his arrogance, his shamelessness, his scorn and contempt?
She couldn’t find them in the gentle but distant tone the inquisitor now spoke with.
“I know very well how much fear and hatred witches face outside of their Covens,” he said. “I have seen mobs rising out of fearful hysteria, and I failed to stop one, once. This is not something I will ever let happen again.”
The ghosts of memories lingered in his gaze. It surprised her, haunted her. Who had she been, that woman he had failed?
“Which,” Velten continued, “is why I suggest you sleep under my watch. I have never, and will never, take advantage of a witch in such a vulnerable position.” A light blush crept up his neck to his ears. “My earlier words were only an ill-timed jest. I beg your forgiveness again for them.”
Semras studied him, searching for traces of deceit. “… And your presence would be enough to deter any attack on me?” She couldn’t accept his apology; it would mean also accepting that he had flirted with her.
“I have yet to meet the man daring enough to enter an inquisitor’s room at night. Especially,” he said, smirking, “if a pretty woman is with him. No one would risk my ire. They fear me and the power I represent too much.”
“So they won’t enter the room. Because they’ll think I have your favour. That we—that you have—” Her cheeks burned; she couldn’t bring herself to speak the word.
He had no such qualms. “That I have bedded you? Most probably. That is how these rumours about me came to exist, I suppose. Can you live with that?”
Old Crone take her; did he have to be so nonchalant about it?
Semras cared little for the opinion of people she’d never meet again, but it still embarrassed her.
People liked to gossip, and when she’d come out of his room in the morning, the implication of what might—or might not—have happened would …
The bed frame ground against the back of her legs.
Velten sighed. “Radiant Lord above, I can hear you thinking. If you have an objection about this arrangement, speak now. If not, please just … just go to sleep already, would you?” he asked, passing his hand over his drawn face.
“I will stay close to the fireplace, and I will not approach you. I will not look at you. This I swear on my honour as an inquisitor. Be grateful there is nothing I am not willing to sacrifice to protect my people.”
“… And what if I refuse?”
The inquisitor shrugged. “Then you will swap places with the lovely tavern maid who came by earlier. What was her name … Sara … or was it Luisa? She told me she would sleep in the attic ‘all alone,’ in case I fancied joining her. I doubt she would object to ceding her bed to you if that gets her in mine.”
Semras groaned. “How can you talk like that? Aren’t you a cleric?”
“I am, and a lecherous one, according to Maldoza. Supposedly, I am also very indulgent toward pretty witches like you. As you can see, I am only acting within the confines of your expectations. No need to thank me.”
Her eyes rolled in aggravation. Of course, he’d been joking. Semras knew little about the vows of Elumenra clerics, but she knew the Church frowned upon carnal affairs. She should have remembered that when Themas told her about the rumours, but it had slipped her mind in her fury.
It had something to do with keeping their god above all and avoiding distractions or something—she didn’t recall the words of the sole service she ever attended.
The one time she had sneaked into Bevenna’s church to hear one, driven by curiosity, it had bored her out of her mind. She left as soon as she could.
Inquisitor Velten had only joked about the tavern maid; he wasn’t offering an actual choice.
Semras had entered his room late at night already, and gossip could spread from less than that.
He must have known it too and either gave her the grace of choosing for herself or meant to deceive her into believing she could.
Semras furrowed her brow. “One question …”
“One,” he agreed.
“Why would you go to such lengths to protect witches? You’re an inquisitor. Isn’t it your job to hunt down and kill us?”
He scoffed. “My ‘job,’ you say. No, my calling is to bring bleakwitches to justice. For this, I need to stay neutral. I cannot cast a wrong judgment, nor a hasty one, lest I condemn an innocent. That is why I protect your kind while I investigate cases. I believe them innocent until proven guilty.” Velten gently pushed down on her shoulders.
Deep in thought, she let him guide her to sit on the bed.
“Enough for tonight,” he said. “We must rise early tomorrow. The maid has prepared a nightgown already, but your belongings are here if you need anything else.” He gestured toward a familiar bag at the foot of the bed—hers, she recognized idly.
That was … surprisingly noble of him to think of her people’s safety. Grabbing the linen nightgown from the bed, Semras stared at it, lost in thought.
Noble, yet still … It meant he had to stay in close quarters with many women. Of what she knew of men and their desires, surely he must have felt temptation?
And Velten had flirted with her.
“You were never tempted? Not by a single witch?”
“That,” he replied, eyes blinking away his fatigue, “is one question too many for tonight.”
Inquisitor Velten walked toward his desk. With practiced ease, he extinguished with his fingers the candles’ flames one by one.
“Has anyone ever tried to hurt you in your sleep?” Semras asked as her fingers worked on the laces of her dress. “While you shared a room, I mean?” She removed her frock, leaving only a shift to cover herself with, and then stopped to glance at the inquisitor.
Enhanced by a fleshwitch’s weaving, the fey blood in her veins gave her nocturnal vision. If he meant to sneak a peek, she’d see it.
Standing with his back turned, Inquisitor Velten was still giving her privacy. Semras slid out of her shift and let it drop loudly onto the floor. Laid bare, her skin raised in goosebumps under the night’s fresh air. She waited for his betrayal.
It didn’t come—his head remained turned away. “Enough, witch, I beg of you.” Velten shifted on his feet. “If you wish to kill me in my sleep, you first need to let me fall asleep.”
Huffing, she grabbed her nightgown and passed it over her head. “I don’t wish to—”
“Do not lie; you certainly did earlier! Your eyes were filled with rage,” he replied with a laugh. His mirth faded into a yawn, and he bent down to retrieve a thick roll of linen next to the desk. “I like them like that. Defiant, confident. So few dare to stare me in the eye nowadays.”
Her mistrustful gaze chased him as he walked toward the fireplace. After setting his bedroll down, the inquisitor slipped into it. He hadn’t glanced at her at all, seemingly far more interested in getting some sleep.
Why had the inquisitor waited for her before allowing himself to rest? If he was this exhausted, he could have ended her evening earlier for his convenience—yet, he hadn’t. Velten was more thoughtful than she expected. She might have … misjudged him.
Just might.
Semras settled beneath the blankets. A chuckle floated to her, drawing her curiosity. “What is it?” she asked.
“Oh, I am thinking,” he replied, voice languid. “About your face.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What about my face?”
“How you looked when I asked you if you would give me your body. No one has ever propositioned you before. Am I right?”
Miffed and furiously blushing from the invasive question, she grumbled, “Now who’s asking one question too many?”
He laughed again.
Turning to her other side, Semras tried to ignore the pounding of her heart. He was obviously toying with her. And she needed to focus on what was important rather than overthink such needless distractions.
There was a witch out there, a coven sister, who stood accused of murder.
All that mattered was clearing her of charges.
Semras could help her, but only if she swallowed her pride and worked with Inquisitor Velten.
His own pride wouldn’t make it easy, but she didn’t have the luxury of choice concerning that either.
To save her coven sister, she’d do anything—even if it meant sleeping with the enemy.
She just … never expected to be so literal about it one day.