Chapter 5
Florian
I’ve never yet met a person I can’t win over.
But with Grimes, I’m starting to wonder if it’s hopeless.
Even my famous breakfast eggs only earned a temporary thaw, and then it was back to that icy steel facade laced with contempt.
The man seems to hate me. I understand his derision.
He shouldn’t have any respect for me after my idiotic display of recklessness last night.
But why the animosity that feels personal?
That’s what I can’t figure out. And if he dislikes me so much, why does he even want me to work for him?
He’s made it clear he thinks I’m a prize fool.
I haven’t dared to ask what I’ll get paid.
It’ll be something—the authorities in Galbrava are careful not to condone outright slavery—but it’ll be a pittance.
With Grimes covering my food and board, I’ll survive.
But it won’t be a fun two years. Especially not with him growling at me and making sly digs all the time.
Does he hate me? There’s no reason for him to.
Now that I’m sober, I’ve racked my brain until I have a headache, trying to remember if I’ve ever met him before.
I keep coming up blank. I’m almost certain he’s a stranger, though it’s hard to be absolutely sure with that hood covering half of his face all the time.
Maybe there’s a simple explanation for his behavior.
Maybe he’s just this much of an asshole to everyone.
We’re walking into town after breakfast to get my things.
Grimes doesn’t have a horse, and I guess not even a donkey and cart.
So I suppose I’m going to be doing a lot of walking from now on.
It’ll be good for my health. I’m excellent at finding bright sides, but something tells me living with Grimes is going to challenge that skill to the maximum.
It’s hot and unpleasant on the unpaved path, and it’s still only six thirty in the morning.
My best breeches are ruined, russet-red dust ingrained in the delicate pale fabric.
My white shirt has yellow sweat stains under the armpits that no amount of soap will clean.
Hot Galbrava sun prickles on my pale skin.
I can’t wait to grab a hat from my boarding house to shade my face.
Grimes seems oblivious to the heat, still in that dark cloak with the hood up.
He trudges on with a long stride, assuming I’ll keep up with him.
I force myself to stay at his side even if I have to jog.
Lagging behind would make me feel even more like a pet than I already do.
“Boss?” I say.
“What?”
“What kind of work do you want me to do?”
“Digging.”
“Digging?”
Does he think he’s hired a mole or something? I’ve never dug a hole in my life. At least not since I was a child, building sandcastles at the beach.
“Foundations first, then we build,” he says.
Stars, talking to him is like solving a cryptic puzzle. Why does he always have to use the fewest words possible?
“So what are we building?” I prompt.
“Boxing gym.”
“Are you a boxer, Boss?”
“Five times Rhennian heavyweight champion.”
I give a low whistle. I follow boxing back at home, but I’ve never heard of him. Nor do I remember a champion who fits his description.
“I guess throwing a punch at you wasn’t my smartest move ever,” I say.
“Almost as bad as making that bet.”
Why does he have to keep taunting me about that? Isn’t it enough that he won? We walk on in silence for a while, moody on my side, impassive and bored on his. But I crack first. Partially because he holds all the cards, and partially because I’m curious.
“So is it just you and me building this gym?” I ask.
“Can’t afford anyone else.”
That explains why he was trawling the casinos looking for drunk men to take advantage of… in a really strange and specific way. He can only afford indentured servant wages. And apparently only one servant. Bad news for me and my not-great work ethic.
“Well I must warn you, I don’t know anything about digging foundations or building houses,” I say.
“You’ll learn.”
Being yoked to him for two years, I won’t have much choice.
I don’t want to imagine how worn out and exhausted I’ll look after two years of manual labor.
My hands calloused, lines around my eyes, hair and skin ruined by working outside in all weathers…
Okay, so I’m vain. At least I can admit it.
I look around at the empty, silent landscape.
Sentinel cacti are the only witnesses in sight.
Oh, and a tiny lizard skittering along the side of the path, its tongue flicking in and out with the monotony of a clock.
No sign of the “authorities”. I could just bail on him.
Skip town. It’s not like I have deep emotional roots here in Galbrava.
I could start over somewhere else. The bet wasn’t fair—Grimes knew that he was tricking me.
I don’t owe him anything, morally speaking.
But something stops me. Well, a few things stop me.
One, he’s completely terrifying. If he manages to track me down he might not be so merciful as when I threw that punch in the casino.
Two, I might get caught. Skipping out on a servant contract carries heavy penalties here.
I’d rather work for him for two years than serve ten in prison.
Third, and most important, some weird, stubborn part of me wants to see this through.
I ran from my obligations in Rhennes and haven’t stopped looking over my shoulder since.
Maybe falling into Grimes’ trap is natural justice kicking in.
A sign I should step up, repay what I owe for once.
My father’s voice whispers in my ear. Lazy, irresponsible, good for nothing.
Every time I mess up or slip out of my duty, yet again, he says typical.
I don’t want to be typical this time. Maybe I want to prove I can commit to something, even if it is working for an embittered, deranged hooded stranger.
We reach the outskirts of Galbrava, and the sounds of the city are welcome to my sociable heart: carriage wheels, snorts and whinnies of horses, shouts of market traders.
If I want to run, now is the time. Just slide away into the crowded streets, find a coach heading for anywhere else.
I have no money with me, but I’m sure one of the coachmen would accept other favors in exchange for the trip.
But I keep walking by Grimes’ side. We reach my street, my boarding house.
And I still haven’t run. Deep down, I know I’m not going to.
Grimes comes right into the boarding house with me, afraid I’ll try to escape.
He doesn’t know that I’ve already made my decision.
My landlady, a gossipy and vaguely unkind woman in her fifties, watches us go up the stairs with a smile on her face.
No doubt news of my fall from grace has reached her already.
Nothing that happens in Galbrava ever escapes her.
“I’ll be packing up and leaving today,” I say, trying to sound like it’s my choice.
“Oh, I’ve heard,” she says, dissolving into laughter.
Grimes gives her a scowl that could sear the paint from the walls. Is he the only one allowed to gloat at me? Is that how this works?
“Excuse me, madam.” He brushes past, making her flinch back from his hooded power.
I follow in his wake, the way cleared effortlessly for me. That force of personality could be useful. If he were on my side.
I have no real attachment to my room in the boarding house.
I’ve only been here for a few months. Still, it’s humiliating to be forced to leave like this.
I’m essentially being taken into Grimes’ possession.
I pack as quickly as possible. Grimes watches with a glimmer of contempt in his dark eyes as I carefully fold my most precious clothes.
The bright, silky waistcoats, the gossamer breeches.
They’re all beautiful and expensive and tailored just for me, made by the finest dressmakers in Rhennes.
I managed to hang onto them even as the loansharks circled.
My debts were so great, selling off clothes wouldn’t have saved me anyway.
My clothes are my final reminders of my old, soft life and I love them.
But Grimes is looking at them as though they’re diseased.
Apparently anything other than plain black is a pointless luxury to him.
He doesn’t even look away as I grab my underwear, most of it racy, built more for titillation than practical concerns.
I feel my cheeks flush, but since he won’t leave and I refuse to abandon my things, I have to brazen this out.
My hand freezes as I find my maid’s apron stashed at the bottom of a drawer.
I swiped it from a hotel laundry room years ago.
I think I’d die if he saw that. I manage to keep it hidden between two shirts as I transfer everything to my suitcase.
“I notice you have no jewelry,” he says.
I turn away grumpily. “So? Why do you care?”
“I don’t care. I just thought you might have some, considering how… fancy your tastes run.” He picks up a feather boa with thumb and forefinger, grimacing as though the feathery fluff is contagious. I snatch it from him angrily.
“If you must know, I’ve lost all my jewelry,” I say.
“Gambling?”
“I’m an addict. In case that wasn’t clear already.”
I say it with no shame. After all, who’s worse, the desperate man or the one who takes advantage of his desperation? Grimes looks at me levelly, his eyes dark and difficult to read.
“Well, are you ready to go?” he grunts.
“Yep. Let’s go start my new life.”
I sound good about it. Strong, optimistic. I won’t let him get me down. I will get through this. Lord Florian Southland always lands on his feet.