Chapter 9

A hand shook my shoulder. "Come on, little one, wake up."

No, please, I'd just fallen asleep... I tried ignoring Donnelly, my self-appointed keeper. I think they had decided to torment me by depriving me of sleep because every time I finally managed to drift off, the man was here waking me back up. Throughout the entire night, I was sure I'd only managed a bit of actual sleep.

"You know what Dr. Fulbert said. I need to wake you up every couple of hours, make you drink and eat a bit, check on your head."

The sun brightening the room told me it was at least morning now. Donnelly pulled me upright slowly, allowing me to adjust to the change in position. Just as before he held a cup to my lips, encouraging me to drink. After a few sips of the tea, he would then feed me a watery stew. Nothing heavy, just as the doctor ordered, until they were sure I could keep it down. I'm not sure why they were worried. I hadn't heaved since blessing Charlie.

Donnelly's careful ministrations made me nervous though. It was almost as if he...cared. Which didn't make any sense. Why would one of Count Sterling's men care for me at all? He should hate me for what my Master had done to his lord. Unless...

Oh hell, unless Donnelly was 'Lee,' and he was treating me well because he thought we both served the same master—the Marquis Barrett.

"There we go," Donnelly crooned softly as he set the bowl aside. "How are you feeling? Any better?"

I nodded cautiously. "Yes, sir."

His thick hand reached for the back of my head, and I didn't flinch this time as I had the other times throughout the night. The spot on my head was tender, but it didn't feel as swollen.

"Ah, yes, I think the swelling has finally gone down. And you certainly have a bit more color in your cheeks this morning."

I wondered if that had anything to do with maybe getting more food than I was used to. Of course, I didn't say anything to that effect. I was actually feeling much better. Except for being tired, the pain in my head had diminished significantly, and I was able to think more clearly.

"Dr. Fulbert will be coming by to check on you. Maybe you can go for a walk later. Get some air."

A walk? Like outside? Was he serious?

The door closed behind him, and I settled back on my hard tiny cot. I'd wanted to ask how Lord Rowland was doing, yet I didn't think they'd appreciate me asking about their lord after my involvement in his poisoning. The sleeves of the coarse beige shirt hung over my hands, and I buried my fists in the cuffs as I pulled my arms against my chest. Last night, I had refused to change into the offered clothes with anyone in the room. Donnelly had wanted to help me, saying he was afraid I'd collapse again. But I'd adamantly refused. He finally laughed at my stubbornness and left me to change in peace. I simply didn't want him to see the evidence of my lack of control. The scars marring my back would tell him just how bad I was. And I was trying to be good.

The new clothes were a little big, hanging on my thin frame, even so they were warm and covered me completely. They hadn't offered me shoes, but then I suspect that was on purpose. I wasn't going anywhere.

I wanted to fall back asleep; unfortunately, my uncertainty about Donnelly possibly being my master's 'Lee' left me feeling anxious. If Donnelly was the spy, did he think I was protecting him when I hadn't said anything to Lord Ashton? Did our association with Lord Barrett make him regard me as an ally?

If he'd seen me as a threat, I'm sure he would have already dispatched me, so I wouldn't reveal his secret to Lord Ashton. Maybe not saying anything yesterday had kept me safe as well as the viscount—at least for now.

Still there was no way to tell for sure. I hated thinking the man who'd nursed me through the night was plotting against Lord Ashton. I'd rather it was Liam or Charlie, or someone else entirely who was actually named Lee. I'd just have to wait until I could tell Lord Ashton alone. Maybe he could work out who the mysterious spy named 'Lee' was.

The lock rattled, and I looked up to see Charlie opening the door for Dr. Fulbert.

"Oh, I see you're awake. Excellent!" The doctor looked rather pleased; Charlie didn't. I suspect he would have been just as happy if I'd died in my sleep last night.

The doctor settled next to me on the cot, and it creaked ominously with the added weight. He motioned me to sit all the way up so he could look at my head. I patiently let him prod at my head and lift my eyelids to stare into my eyes. He listened to my breathing with his odd contraption in his ears—I'm not sure why, I hadn't had any trouble breathing before.

I hoped he'd say something about Lord Rowland, but he didn't, so I just prayed to the Gods the count had survived the night.

The doctor smiled at me. "Well, I think you'll be just fine, young man," he pronounced before rising and turning to Charlie. "I believe he can handle heartier foods now—breads, cheese, fish. Maybe even a little exercise would do him well."

Charlie only nodded, not looking terribly happy at being anywhere near me. "I'll take care of him, doc."

I locked eyes with him briefly. I wanted to recoil at the look in his dark eyes yet stiffened instead, sliding on my mask of indifference, my veil of calm control. His hatred of me seemed to stem from more than just my involvement in Lord Rowland's poisoning. There was almost a hint of fear mixed in with the scorn.

I dropped my eyes in submission before his hostility deepened much more than it already had. He grunted as he closed the door behind the doctor. A loud snap of the lock secured me in my prison.

***

Blissfully, I was left alone most of the day. Charlie dumped a small bowl of bread and cheese in my room shortly after the doctor left, and later in the afternoon, Donnelly came by with another plate, this one with a sweet, fleshy fruit I didn't recognize that he called a mango and some juicy cuts of pheasant. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten such delicious foods.

Both men had seemed rather subdued, and it worried me that something had happened with Count Rowland. Had he taken a turn for the worse? Was that why Lord Ashton hadn't questioned me again yet; he was worried about the health of his brother?

It was only my third evening at the Sterling estate, but it felt like much longer, the hours dragging by sluggishly. Maybe because last night I'd been woken up every couple hours.

Tonight, Donnelly had left me a large bucket and rag with a small cake of soap to wash up with, for which I was grateful. I decided to wait until very late, past moonrise, before attempting to bathe. I didn't want to risk anyone else coming upon my naked, scarred body.

I was glad I did—because less than an hour later I heard footsteps storming down the hallway, coming ominously closer. There was more than one set, that I could tell, even if their raised voices hadn't barked through the door long before the lock clicked open.

"Open the door, now."

I was on my feet, already in position, before the door opened with a bright flare of light invading my dark sanctuary. I had to blink several times at the blinding lantern before I could make out my evening visitors: Lord Ashton, Liam, and Charlie.

The viscount stalked toward me, his face in shadows from the light Charlie held up behind him. "Do you have anything to say?"

I wondered if I could feign ignorance. "Sir?"

That just earned me a dark look from all three men, so I guess pretending stupidity wasn't going to work.

"About your vile, basecourt lover," Liam hissed. "Tell us where he is!"

Lord Ashton stiffened as I lifted my chin to him. "I can't, sir," I stated, realizing belatedly that I probably sounded a bit belligerent. Even though that information I truly did not know.

Grasping my chin, forcing me to meet his glittering eyes, the viscount glared at me. "I'm not sure if you're just stubborn, or really just don't know anything."

I dipped my head, attempting to cast my eyes to the floor.

"No, you will look at me when I speak to you," he demanded. I struggled to maintain eye contact. "My steward seems to think you have vital information. I'm not sure I agree. I believe I am wasting my time coming down here at all." Lord Ashton's nostrils flared as he attempted to rein in his anger, his hand dropping from my chin to clasp behind his back. "I can't believe the marquis would entrust you with anything of significance. I've seen you with him, practically crawling on that bastard's lap like a mewling pup."

Liam chuckled at the description of my behavior the one time the viscount had seen me. I straightened, clenching my jaw. I couldn't let the man see how his words made me want to disappear into the cold hard floor.

"The man attempted to murder my brother, and you admitted to helping him," he stated, eerily calm. I waited. There was nothing I could say to that. He was right. "Do you know the penalty for such crimes? That I can demand retribution on my brother's behalf?"

Oh, Gods. My control wavered slightly, and I felt the urge to drop to my knees to beg the man for my miserable life. The viscount already despised me, but I felt a modicum of certainty that he wasn't ready to have me slaughtered quite yet, not until he was sure I didn't have any information. I latched onto that thought; it was all I had to keep me from shattering.

"I—" I swallowed, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. "I understand, sir."

Lord Ashton's eyes narrowed. "You'd rather go to your grave knowing you helped a murderer go free than tell me what you know?"

"No, sir. I—"

"Just let me beat it out of him, Ash," Liam snarled, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Maybe he really doesn't know nothin'," Charlie interjected for the first time. "Sounds like he was just Barrett's whore."

Lord Ashton studied me for several long moments, perhaps wondering if I would break down and suddenly tell him everything he wanted to know. But I couldn't, not with the possibility of one of the other men in the room being a traitor.

"I believe you may be right, Charlie," the viscount finally said, seeming almost disappointed by my silence. He turned stiffly and addressed his steward briefly before glancing back at me. "I think we are wasting our time here. If, however, you suddenly remember anything useful, my steward here might be willing to listen, and maybe if we find it helpful, we may be lenient with our judgment."

The steward. Fuck, the viscount was apparently done dealing with me directly. I couldn't blame him for that. He had more important things to deal with than 'Barrett's whore', especially if Lord Rowland were still ill. I could tell that it nearly pained him to even look at me, the man who'd help nearly murder his brother.

Lord Ashton cast one last calculating look at me before turning on his heel and storming out, Liam following angrily in his wake. Charlie waited until the other two were gone before he took hold of the door to close it.

"You're lucky, kid. Liam's ready to gut you for what you did to the count. Fortunately, Lord Ashton has a bit more of a level head than Liam. He's also more worried about his brother than he's lettin' on, especially after losing his father a couple years ago. You better hope the count survives. He's all Lord Ashton has left."

Charlie pulled the door closed, and I heard the lock slide into place.

I dropped back to my small cot, where it took me a few moments to realize my body was shaking uncontrollably in fear. I prayed for Count Rowland. I prayed for my mother. I prayed for Tareth. I prayed for Lord Ashton's mercy—even knowing I didn't deserve it.

***

The water was cool before I got myself together enough to use it. It was nice to rinse away the grime and sweat of the last two days. I even dunked my head in the bucket to clean my hair as much as I could. At Lord Barrett's, I had gotten used to bathing every day. It was one luxury I did enjoy there. Tareth and I didn't always have the opportunity to bathe every day at the farm.

I rolled onto my back, painless for once, and stared at the stars through the window. It was clear. I was sure the air outside would be pleasantly crisp and comfortable. At least, I imagined it would be. I rested my hands behind my head, as I often had when lying in the grass next to Tareth.

I wondered what he looked like now. I knew he was tall, maybe even as tall as Lord Ashton. He would be strong, I was sure of that as well. Would he have a beard like Charlie, or would he keep his jaw smoothly shaved like Lord Ashton? I rubbed at my chin, still as bare as my chest. It seemed I wouldn't ever have to make that decision. I'd always hoped when I came of age last year I'd get whiskers like my father, but it seemed I took more after my fair-headed mother.

I closed my eyes, drifting back and latching onto a time when life had been simpler, unassuming and easy.

Tareth had sat next to papa on the wagon bench as Bessy had plodded along toward town. I sat in the back with the bags of potatoes and leeks to sell in town. Papa snapped the whip at the mule to move her along. I flinched at the sound reverberating in my dream. It hadn't bothered me then, but my older mind intruded on my childhood dream, making the previously innocuous sound now menacing.

Bessy, however, didn't seem to care about the horsewhip and continued moving along at her own sedate pace. I admired the old mule for her tenacity right then. She was stronger than I'd ever be.

After arriving in town, papa headed down the cobblestone street where he stopped in front of the inn. The owner was an old friend of papa's and always purchased quite a few vegetables for his kitchen. Tareth and I hopped down from the wagon, racing off to meet up with some of the other boys who always gathered in the alley behind the shoppes.

"Hey, Tare!" Michael greeted. "Come. We just started a game of knucklebones."

Tareth grinned at his friend as he came over and joined the circle of boys. They were all more his age, so they tended to ignore me tagging along. Tareth tried to include me, but I was happy to just watch them play.

"Didja see the blue-bloods when you came down the road?" Jack asked the group.

"Naw. Are there some visitin' again?"

"Yep. Got his two mewling whelps with him. Those two milk-livered fobs look like they ain't never lifted a trowel," Michael laughed.

"They's probably just boil-brained footlers," Jack agreed.

"Ya say that, but ya know you'd like to be one," Tareth chided.

Both Michael and Jack flushed. "Wouldn' mind havin' a bit o' their pence."

"Would ya go if they offered your pa a contract for you?" Tareth asked.

Michael rattled the bones in his hand before grinning. "Right now if they asked."

"Ha!" The boys all laughed, agreeing.

"Kye! Tareth!" Papa's voice echoed between the shoppes.

"Uh oh, time for you to bugger off," Michael said.

Tareth tossed the bones back to the ground, waving at his friends. "Come on, Kye. We better hurry before papa gets upset."

We raced down the alley, Tareth right behind me. I skidded around the corner, colliding with a solid mass. It only took me a second to recognize the fine cut of the coat and polished leather of the boots.

"Uhhh..." I couldn't even look up at the man as I backed up quickly. The edges of my vision saw a thick riding glove rising towards me.

Tareth was instantly in front of me, shoving me behind him. "My lord, please forgive us. My brother meant no harm."

The man's arm dropped even as his voice cracked with irritation. "Impudent little scut. See that you watch where you are going."

"Yes, sir. We will, sir. We're very sorry, sir." Tareth said quickly as he continued to back away from the noble, pressing me behind him protectively.

"My apologies, my lord," I finally managed as I peeked around my brother, keeping my eyes deferentially to the man's shiny boots.

"And the Regent wants us to spend our extra resources on these plebians," the man muttered. "Seriously, what a waste."

"Oh, come now, Huxton," another voice from the door of the inn interrupted, "they're just boys. No need to be so upset. It was just an accident."

I glanced back to see another noble alight next to the one I'd offended. Two boys descended the inn's step behind the man, and my dream-fogged brain imagined a young Rowland and Ashton with their dark hair and mocha eyes staring back at us. I couldn't remember exactly what the two boys had looked like anymore; I'd been so scared of the first gentleman, I hadn't really noticed. In the safety of my dreams, I imagined having met the young counts, dressed so elegantly in their black riding breeches and red coats.

"Come on, Kye," Tareth urged, pushing me down the street. I stumbled, and he caught my arm. When we were safely away, he paused, looking back at the two boys—slightly older than he was—mounting their geldings.

"Someday, Kye. Someday," he muttered longingly.

I imagined Tareth dressed dapperly in a genteel suit like Lord Rowland and Ashton had worn when I'd first seen them at Master's home. He had been so eager to go work for the noble who'd contracted for him. I had to believe he'd managed to follow his dreams, because thinking of him any other way would crush what little strength I had.