Chapter 3 #2
“Springwood Manor, outside of Northampton,” Edith replied, images of summers spent roaming the grounds with her siblings, and winters curled by the fire with her grandmother filling her mind.
Thomasin nodded, then her eyes dipped to the book in her hands.
Edith perched on the stool near the foot of the bed and watched Thomasin flip through the pages.
“That’s one of the very first accounts of Camelot and King Arthur,” Edith said, her heart rate ticking up in excitement as it always did when she got to talk about this subject.
“I haven’t read a book in … ages,” Thomasin said without looking up from the page.
“What do you like to read?”
Thomasin looked startled by this question, and her eyes flicked up to meet Edith’s. “You’ll make fun of me.”
“I will not!”
“No, no, you will.” Thomasin laughed. “Besides, I have a reputation to uphold.”
Edith laid a palm against her heart. “I’ll not tell a soul, I promise.”
Thomasin squinted her eyes at Edith for a long moment. Oddly enough, Thomasin’s most threatening glare seemed rather silly at the moment. Edith had to try very hard not to burst into laughter. Eventually, Thomasin slammed the book down on the bed.
“Careful!” Edith said without thinking. “That’s antique!”
Regret instantly colored Thomasin’s face, and she gingerly picked the book back up. She grimaced as she bent forward to hand the book to Edith. “Sorry.”
Edith took it and held the volume to her chest. Tilting her chin up, she said, “Now you have to tell me. As recompense.”
“Fine.” Thomasin nervously fidgeted with one of her many buckles, absentmindedly pulling out a knife and flipping it back and forth between her fingers. She looked pointedly at the oppressively beige bedspread as she spoke. “I have been known to occasionally enjoy a romance novel.”
“Romance!” Edith burst out before Thomasin even finished speaking. From the look on Thomasin’s face, Edith could tell she expected to be ridiculed. But Edith had never been so happy to hear an admission. “I adore romance!” she said breathlessly.
It was the subject of the very worst of her and her grandmother’s debates. Her grandmother maintained that romance was a frivolous waste of time for foolish girls, while Edith maintained there was nothing more beautiful, more thought-provoking, than a well-written romance.
Thomasin looked at her with a cautiously pleased expression. “You do?”
Edith practically bounced from the stool to the bed.
She sat at the end, near Thomasin’s outstretched feet.
“Oh yes! If I’d have known you did, I would have brought some of my favorites to share.
I tried, actually. But with those and the books on Camelot, I couldn’t even lift my pack.
” She sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “But never mind that. This is so exciting! I’ve never had anyone to talk about this with. ”
“Neither have I,” Thomasin said.
Edith didn’t know if the word shy should ever be attributed to a crime lord, but there was no other way of describing the hesitant manner in which Thomasin had spoken. “Well, do you have any favorites? Could I borrow one?”
The corners of Thomasin’s mouth tightened.
Edith backpedaled quickly. “I’m sorry, I know that is terribly presumptuous of me.”
Thomasin waved a dismissive hand. “Not at all. It’s just …” She paused for a breath, creases appearing in the space between her brows. “I burn them after I read them.”
Edith very nearly gasped in horror, but she stifled her utter dismay with a polite, “Oh?”
“Like I said, reputation and all.”
The idea that Thomasin would have to destroy something she loved to maintain her image as an unfeeling mercenary was horribly sad to Edith.
She understood why Thomasin would feel like she had to do it, though.
After all, Edith found that she often muffled aspects of her own personality so she would be more palatable to people.
“Waste not, want not,” Edith said with a smile. At Thomasin’s confused look, she added, “You probably saved a lot of coin on firewood.”
Thomasin seemed quietly surprised once again. The only reply she offered was a small nod that seemed to hide a slightly bigger smile.
As the conversation lulled into a companionable silence, Edith realized how strange their current situation was.
They had been conversing as if they were old friends, and now they were just enjoying each other’s company.
This crime boss was one of the most delightfully entertaining people she had ever met.
But still, they hardly knew each other, and surely Thomasin had an actual purpose for coming to speak to her.
It would make absolutely no sense for the mercenary to seek Edith out a mere hour after their first—well, second—meeting for nothing more than a social call.
“Was there something you wanted to discuss with me? Perhaps the first leg of our quest?” Edith prompted.
“Quest.” Thomasin snorted. “I love that you call it that. Actually adds some goddamn whimsy to this whole crime business.”
“I find most endeavors lack whimsy these days.”
“Most people, more like.”
“Quite.”
Thomasin cleared her throat. “Anyway, yes. I wanted to let you know that we’ll be setting off at dawn tomorrow.”
Edith’s heartbeat jumped into her throat, and she swallowed thickly. She had to remind herself that this was what she wanted. It would be the height of idiocy to delay any further.
“Wonderful news,” she said, standing from the bed to place The History of the Kings of Britain back on the shelf.
“Come down for a drink to celebrate?” Thomasin asked, her voice sounding closer than it had been.
Edith turned around, starting slightly when she saw that Thomasin was now standing only a foot away from her.
The woman seemed larger than life, and yet she had moved absolutely silently.
This spoke of exactly the kind of skill that they would need to find Excalibur.
Edith needed someone resourceful and physically capable, both to defend her from dangers and to face any challenges the quest might pose.
Her grandmother had first thought to hire an official escort, or to bring along a member of their guard.
But Edith’s father had forbidden the guards from accompanying them, and then he had paid off all the escort services too.
Really, it was his fault that Edith had been forced to turn to more unseemly options.
She never thought she’d find someone so perfect for the job, though.
A large part of Edith did feel like celebrating.
She wanted to be the kind of person who accepted offers to go have drinks with strangers.
She wanted to be a fun person. But it had been an unspeakably long day, and Edith’s brain felt like a puddle.
The thought of meeting new people, of drinking alcohol, which she had never actually done, of just existing in a crowd, seemed intolerably exhausting at the moment.
She had reached her quota of new experiences for the day, and she feared that anything more would send her into a nervous breakdown.
Her insides already felt jittery and weak.
So Edith smiled politely and shook her head.
“I appreciate the offer, but I want to get some more research in before we leave.”
“Suit yourself,” Thomasin said as she retreated toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
When the door closed behind Thomasin, Edith collapsed onto the bed.
Her arm ached, and she lifted her sleeve to reveal a pattern of bruises from where the barman had gripped her.
Battle wounds, she thought contentedly. Despite her exhaustion, she smiled to herself.
After all her worry, it had been marvelously easy to hire a crime boss.