Chapter 06 #2
Ulrech used the opportunity to press his case.
“I understand, my lord, but I am certain there is something deeply wrong in these parts of the Vedwoods.” He frowned, and Semras realized belatedly that this was his pensive face.
“The horses spooked out of control when we crossed it on our way here. If some Bleak magic is at work, it would be wise to postpone dealing with it until we know more. Taking the mountain path will only delay us by two or three days.”
Inquisitor Velten gestured toward Semras.
“We will have a witch with us this time. Let her earn her bread if you are so concerned! I will risk crossing the Vedwoods if it means she will still have a corpse to examine once we are back. There is only so much cold storage can do to delay putrefaction.”
“Delightful,” Semras said, crossing her arms over her dark purple dress. “I believe I am no longer hungry.”
“You will eat,” the inquisitor snapped back at her. “Now.”
And thus died all the goodwill he had fostered the night before. What a prickly man.
“The men will be nervous,” Sir Ulrech said.
Inquisitor Velten scoffed. “They already are.”
“Very well. I can see you have made up your mind already. I have warned you, my lord, and that is all I can do.” The knight gave the inquisitor a bow.
“I will be on the lookout for trouble. For any kind of trouble,” he added, glaring at Semras.
He rolled the map and left, clutching it in his dark leather gauntlet.
Drumming his fingers on the table, Velten nodded to the free space next to him on the bench. “I said ‘now,’ witch.”
Semras exchanged a look with Themas. Her anger toward him receded, replaced by a deep empathy for what he had to deal with all day.
With a sigh, she sat in her designated place. As much as she disliked being ordered around, she knew better than to ride on an empty stomach.
“Make yourself useful for once and serve her,” Inquisitor Velten barked at the young knight. “I will not tolerate any more delays.”
Eyes downcast, Themas executed his order in silence.
“You’re not a morning person, are you?” Semras asked the inquisitor. “What has gotten into you?”
“I should be the one asking.”
A strange tension gleamed in his eyes. After a curt glance around the room, Velten buried his face in her neck, right beneath her ear. Jolting back, Semras yelped at the sudden invasion.
His arm slipped around her waist and yanked her closer. “You smell like me,” Velten whispered in her ear. “What are you playing at?”
A fierce blush spread across Semras’ face. Across the room, Pepa winked at her.
The witch could have hexed her out of mortification. Instead, she squirmed against the inquisitor’s arm. “I swear it wasn’t my idea. It was the maid, and I—”
He didn’t let her go. The more she squirmed, the closer his arm pinned her against him. She felt his lips grazing her neck, and a jolt of something shot through her. Her skin burned; he was so close, he could nip at her throat.
“Likely story …” he drawled. His breath hit her skin, and the night’s previous flirting flooded her mind.
Semras’ mouth dried up.
The inquisitor’s lips brushed against the sensitive shell of her ear. “If you intend to seduce me with such cheap tricks—”
Themas saved her. “My lord Inquisitor, Semras needs to eat now if we wish to follow your schedule,” he said, placing a plate of food down in front of her. The sound of ceramic hitting wood in a loud thud broke Velten’s focus on her.
His arm retreated, and Semras released her breath. An odd warmth lingered around her waist, like an imprint of him branded on her skin. She mouthed a silent thanks for Themas’ intervention. Her face could have melted from the heat of her mortification.
Inquisitor Velten felt no such shame. “Then go make sure that Pagan is ready to leave. I will take care of my guest.”
Face set in a blank expression, Themas bowed to each of them.
As soon as the knight was gone, she glowered at the inquisitor. “It was the maid,” she said icily.
Velten hummed, his attention fixed away from her.
She followed his eyes to a few sword-bearers scattering out of the common room with unnatural haste.
Only a handful of Venator guards still remained in the room now, heads leaning on their hands—clearly too busy nursing a hangover to have noticed their altercation.
“I could help them,” Semras thought out loud, chewing on a slice of bread.
“You will do no such thing, witch.”
Clearly, the inquisitor was still pissed and making it everyone’s problem.
“Weren’t you the one who said I should ‘earn my bread’?” she asked, waving in his face her last bite of bread.
Grinning wickedly, he caught her wrist. “These men drank beyond their limit of their own volition. Let them deal with the consequences on their own. That is the only way they will learn.” In his eyes, a flicker of mischief lit up.
“And so should you learn too. If you wave something tasty in front of me, witch, do not be surprised when I take a bite.” Velten sank his teeth into the bread, then ripped it out of her hand before swallowing it whole.
“You—!”
At her indignant expression, the inquisitor let out a bark of laughter.
Glowering at him, Semras quickly dragged her plate between her arms. “Don’t you have anything better to do than antagonize me?”
“I do, which is why I have subordinates to delegate my duties to.” The inquisitor rested his elbow on the table and leaned his head into his hand. His eyes roamed over her face.
“Delegate, hm? What a peculiar way to pronounce ‘harass,’” she quipped. “What is your conflict with Themas?”
His smile turned down in a disarming, childish sulk. “You call him by his given name with no title? I did not know the two of you were so close now. What about the soot-stained boy from your village?” he taunted. “What about all the consideration I showed you? How heartless you are, witch.”
“If you want to show me consideration, Inquisitor, how about trying to use my name? If you can even remember it.”
He hummed, then smirked. “No.”
Semras breathed deeply. “Great. I suppose I should be thankful that you do not ignore me at least, unlike your other knight. The only time he acknowledges my presence is when he glares at me.”
Velten dropped his smile. “Sir Ulrech has his reasons to distrust you. I suggest you give him space; you will not find a friend in him. Not right now, at least.”
“I doubt any witch would find a friend in him. I won’t take it personally,” Semras said.
Then, reluctantly, she added, “… Thank you. For the warning about him. And the suggestion too, I guess.” Her eyes fell on her forgotten breakfast lying before her, and she fumbled with the cutlery to dig back into it.
Velten didn’t react to her gratitude. Curious, she threw a discreet glance at him, and found him pensively looking out the window.
An odd urge to bring his attention back to her won over her reason. “What about you?”
“What about me?” he asked distractedly.
“Would I find a …”—her heart fluttered uncomfortably—“… a friend in you?”
She couldn’t believe she was entertaining the idea.
The inquisitor didn’t even ponder before answering. “Obviously not, witch. You are a means to an end, a tool at best, and nothing more.” He turned to her. “If you are done eating, let’s leave. We are losing daylight.”
Maybe she could find another piece of bread so he could choke on it.