Chapter Eight #2
Fuck. That bastard needs to die. Don’t much care how we get it done, but it’s happening.
“Sorry,” she said, scrambling to her feet with extra caution.
“You okay?”
“I was just a bit startled.”
Slay said, “I don’t think I grabbed you. Seems like you migrated in your sleep.”
“You’re really warm.” Her smile held a wistful note, as if she planned to savor the memory of being snuggled up to him.
Come to think of it, he’d never slept with anyone before Rowena.
That was something he didn’t let happen when he was struggling to keep everybody happy.
Fun fact, jaguars were shit at juggling and in the end, his balls ended up all over the floor.
Groaning, he got up and tried to stretch away some of the kinks.
I miss showers. Even a cold one would be welcome.
Hygiene in the undercity amounted to a rag and bucket, and most didn’t bother. Consequently, the smell was overwhelming, though he’d learned to ignore it, a bit like pretending not to see the demon making faces through a window.
The morning went as usual with the same crappy breakfast. No wonder people had open sores and died young.
It sucked imagining Rowena growing up here, tormented by Tycho Vega, having no idea what else was out there.
Then Slay pictured her expression at finally seeing some of the world, and fuck, he wished he could’ve been the one to save her.
He went back and forth on being pissed at Prince Alastor—yeah, he’d saved Rowena once, bullshit that he seemed to have abandoned her now.
“You look like you want to kill someone,” Ro said, as she followed the others toward the workshop.
Slay scowled. “Accurate.”
“Anyone I know?”
He shot her a look. “Probably best not to discuss it right now.”
“Understood.”
Once they got to the workshop, Slay made fancy dresses for hours, until his body screamed in protest and his spine might never be the same.
Yet right next to him, there was a little girl working at the same pace.
She couldn’t be more than eleven, and her face was filthy, more dirt than skin showing.
I really need to remember how easy I’ve had it. And I had no fucking clue, either.
As he studied her, the girl fumbled and Slay lunged, pulling her hand free before the needle stabbed through her palm. She cried out, eyes wide, but before the guards came, the bell tolled signaling the meal break.
“You okay?” he asked.
Silent and scared, she nodded. “I already have a protector. Please don’t hurt me.”
Fuck, what does that mean? Surely not what that other prisoner had mentioned before when he was praising Rowena for hooking up with Slay. This girl couldn’t be implying that, right? Please, no. Not at her age.
Rowena knelt to inspect the child’s hand. No damage. “Who’s that?”
“My older brother looks after me. But he works somewhere else, and I’m just trying to stay out of trouble.”
“We won’t bother you,” Ro promised.
The girl relaxed at hearing Rowena speak for Slay. He backed off and let them talk, instead joining the line to get his portion of gritty brown bread and beer.
This kind of life makes you wish for death.
Without Rowena, he might not be coping so well. Before they met, despair had been chewing away at him, like a mouse working a wheel of cheese. Allying with her gave him some hope that they could turn the tide—that this wasn’t forever.
After work, they cruised past the comfort house and Rowena’s scent brightened with excitement.
He didn’t understand the reason for it because everything looked the same to him.
Then she leaned close to say softly, “There’s a yellow ribbon tied around the pillar.
That’s the signal. Hettie must have gotten Chantisse on board. ”
“We heading in then?”
She shook her head. “We can’t use the comfort house as our HQ. Tonight, as we walk around, I’ll check a few of the old drop sites. There should be a message telling us where the first assembly will be held.”
A chill went through him. This was major, and here he was in the thick of it. He didn’t have roots in Golgerra, so there was no way in hell he could’ve accomplished anything without her. But supporting Rowena, doing whatever the hell she needed him to? That he could do.
Slay put his face next to hers. The gesture would look intimate, but this was about preventing spies from eavesdropping.
“We talked about taking Golgerra,” he said.
“But we didn’t think it would be possible from the outside.
All our best strategists said it would cost too many lives, and even then they didn’t project a high probability of success. ”
“That’s why it’ll be an inside job,” Rowena said. “And I don’t care about the odds. All reasonable projections suggest I’d be dead by now, but I’m not. And I’ll fight with every breath in my body. Until we get this done or I’m done in.”
“No. Not on my watch. You need somebody to guard your back. That’s where I’ll stand, until they pull me away in pieces. I got you, Ro.”
Her eyes welled up with tears, and they slid down her cheeks in delicate trickles. Defiantly, she stared up at him, as if challenging him to comment on the fact that he’d made her cry. She didn’t wipe the marks away and he didn’t either.
She swallowed hard before she could get the words out.
“We don’t really have religion in the undercity.
Because any god or goddess that would let us live like this?
I don’t owe them any worship. But I’m starting to think you were sent, Slay.
There’s no other explanation for me winding up beside somebody as amazing as you. ”
Fuck. Kissing her would have been perfect, but he’d promised to be patient. Not to push. So he pressed his lips to his palm instead and then blew. Bright-eyed, she snatched the kiss out of the air and made an adorable show of stashing it in her tunic for later.
“Your kisses are high octane, I’m fired up now,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s go exploring. I want to show you my childhood.” Her eyes said that was the cover for checking the drop sites.
Slay hoped he’d still learn more about Rowena because apparently this hunger was bottomless, and if he couldn’t have her, he’d devour her words instead.