The War Priest

by Ann Aguirre

  “Does that mean you’re letting me perform?” Joss asked.

  Nayan swapped a look with Renna, then they both laughed. Renna said, “Letting you? That’s the wrong word entirely.”

  Nayan tugged Joss toward the table where they had been sitting and lifted a hand. Immediately one of the staff hurried over. “Open a bottle of our best wine. Joss, do you prefer white or red?”

  Embarrassed, Joss admitted, “I’m a bit of a child when it comes to drinking. I don’t like any of it unless it’s sweet.”

  “How adorable,” Nayan said in an indulgent tone. “Bring the Agincourt dessert wine and a plate of the Belford cheese.”

  “Right away, ma’am.” The server hurried off with an alacrity that made Joss wonder if the eagerness to please sprang from respect or fear.

  Nayan laced her fingers together, regarding Joss across the dark surface of the table. “While I appreciate your desire to do a good deed for the soldiers, I can’t allow you to work for free. You’ll be compensated for each performance. One show a night, six per week, with a day off to rest your voice. Does that sound reasonable?”

  “How long would each show be?” Joss asked.

  “You’re the expert, my dear. I’ll allow you to choose the set list and running time. I can tell from your audition that you’ll put your heart into each performance. And the numbers you’ll bring in will increase my drink sales, well worth the cost of our partnership.”

  Joss certainly wasn’t thinking about profit and loss with the Golgoth camped outside, but Nayan was a businesswoman, and clearly a successful one. She made an offer that Joss thought was a little low, so they went back and forth, until settling on a weekly salary that she thought would be more than enough for her to pay for food and clothing while she was here. Joss planned on offering to pay rent too, but she suspected that Callum would turn her down.

  “Do I need to sign anything?” she asked, when they finished the negotiation.

  Nayan shook her head. “Unless you’d feel more comfortable, I’m fine with having our deal witnessed by Renna. I’ve also got a recording of our agreement in case there are any questions later.”

  “Sounds good,” Joss said. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  Callum had no idea why he lingered. He had been drawn like a moth to a flame by whispers that the little cat was singing over at Nayan’s place. And sure enough, as he approached, Joss’s voice cut through him like a knife, sending shivers through his whole body. It was like she’d tangled her fingers directly in his nerves, until his skin broke out in goosebumps.

  The moment he reacted like that, he should’ve run the other way. Instead, he stood just outside the doors and listened to song after song, until he was drunk with the pleasure of her voice. When she finally stopped, he felt physically weak, trembling with the force of his response. Listening to Joss was like tumbling headfirst into a vat of beauty, drowning in it and not even minding his own imminent demise.

  Letting out a shaky breath, he leaned against the wall, trying not to show how utterly undone he was to those trickling out of the closed restaurant. Of course Garven was one of them. The other man didn’t seem to notice his lack of composure, knocking a fist into his shoulder.

  “You missed the show,” Garven said. “What an angel that woman is! I’ll be here every damned night that I’m not on duty.” Leaning in with a conspiratorial grin, he said, “And it seems I’m not the only one. The guys are running a pool.”

  “Eh?” Callum grunted in response, only half listening to Garven’s nonsense.

  “To see if she sings that sweetly in bed. First one to—”

  “No.” He slammed Garven into the wall, arm across his throat. Callum leaned in, close enough to see the veins in the other man’s eyes, making sure his meaning came across. “There will be no betting on her private life. If she favors someone, they’ll be lucky enough not to need to win anything else for the rest of their lives. Understand?”

  “I’ll put a stop to it,” Garven choked out.

  “I’m fucking disgusted. She came here, put herself in harm’s way to support you assholes and that’s how you repay her?”

  “Sorry, boss.”

  Belatedly Callum realized that Garven’s face was the wrong color and he let up, took a physical step back, sharply aware that he had no right to be this angry. Not over Joss Bristow. Hopefully Garven would take his reaction as a response to a discipline problem.

  “If you’re interested,” he said gruffly, “pursue her honestly. Don’t go wagering behind her back.”

  Garven shot him a wary look. “Does that mean…we’re allowed to pursue her?”

  Shit. He’s noticed.

  He shrugged, wishing he felt half this sanguine. “None of my business, as long as you’re respectful. A secret bet on who nails her first is shady as hell.”

  Garven flushed and broke eye contact. “Agreed. I wasn’t thinking. Just got carried away in the big talk and the sense of competition, I guess.”

  “Don’t let me hear about this again. I won’t have her going back to Ash Valley thinking that we’re a bunch of disrespectful barbarians.”

  “Fair enough.”

  As Garven hurried off, Callum shoved away from the wall. At least conflict had restored some of his equilibrium, but he wasn’t nearly prepared to find Joss frozen just outside the doors, one hand braced on the wall.

  “They were…” She didn’t say ‘betting on me’ but she’d heard everything, he could tell. Her green eyes were an open wound, showing how sick and disappointed she felt. Then her lashes fluttered, veiling her pain.

  “I took care of it,” he snapped.

  “Yes, I heard that too. Gave your blessing for anyone to have at me, as long as they don’t lay odds on it.”

  How did she make that sound so wrong? Put that way, it seemed unsavory, as if he’d betrayed a bond. But they didn’t share…anything.

  “It’s not my business, except when it comes to the morality of my men. I’m not pushing celibacy on the rest of the world.”

  Somehow that explanation didn’t help at all. He could see by the way she drew back that he’d made it worse. Callum felt like a giant stepping on people’s houses, but he was too far from the problem to see where it was safe to set his feet.

  She squared her shoulders. “I understand perfectly. You do not like me, you have no use for me, and it doesn’t concern you in the slightest what happens in my personal life.”

  “Who said I don’t like you?” The retort popped out before he could stop it.

  Really, he should let her storm away and cry it out. He should not continue this conversation.

  “You treat me like I have a virus you can catch.” Her words emerged sharp as razors, and her eyes sliced into him.

  Gods, what am I doing?

  Still, he tried to mitigate the offense, as when Callum pissed somebody off, he wanted it to be on purpose. He wasn’t prone to inflicting collateral damage on innocent bystanders. “I told you before, the order—”

  “I don’t give a damn about the order. You said they frown on close friendships between men and women, but that must be because they see women as inherently corrupt or untrustworthy. If you saw me as a person of worth, you’d trust me to respect your boundaries.”

  Part of that was probably true, as Saint Casimir had been a bit of a misogynist, but it was also about rejecting secular influences. Perhaps he should tell her that he wasn’t encouraged to get close to anyone outside the order, as temptation wasn’t limited to women. The brothers could be trusted to respect the ascetic lifestyle; others might view a devout person as a challenge. But already he could tell that Joss wasn’t like that.

  “It’s not you I’m worried about,” he muttered.

  Shit. Did I really say that?

  Her eyes widened. “You’re… are you saying that I…tempt you?”

  More than anyone in living memory.

  For fifteen years, he’d served the Order of Saint Casimir and
never regretted his choices. Rituals gave him stability and routine kept his extreme tendencies in check. But everything had changed, and the order was so far away, like a different life.

  “I don’t know what I’m saying,” he muttered.

  “It sounds like you don’t trust yourself around me,” she said in a gentler tone.

  “Let’s pretend this conversation never happened.”

  “But it did. And I want to be your friend, Callum. I understand that your vows are important. They’re part of who you are, and I respect that. I’ll never do anything to threaten your vocation. But really, we can’t even talk? Or eat a meal together?”

  His head was such a fucking mess because hearing that…bothered him, like she didn’t, in fact, see him as a man. Never mind that he should feel reassured by those promises. Instead, he itched all over, irritated by her easy profession of friendship. She’s not in turmoil at all.

  Sure, kit, let’s have stew and chat about the fourth meditations of Saint Casimir. I’m positive you’ve some fresh insights.

  His mouth tightened. “I don’t have time for that. If you hadn’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a war.”

  Soberly, she nodded. “I’m sure you could use an unbiased ear. Everyone in the hold is subject to your authority, so you can’t confide in them whereas I’m outside your sphere of influence. If you vent to me, you don’t need to worry about how it’ll muck up your politics.”

  That part was true enough. And the idea of having somewhere to go when the weight piled up? Indescribably seductive. But people would talk if he spent too much private time with Joss.

  Do I even care about that?

  Not really.

  As long as he didn’t betray his vows, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. The order might give him a hard time if they found out, but if he swore on the sigil of Saint Casimir that he hadn’t crossed any lines, they should assign penance and take him back without much trouble.

  “What do you get out of this?” he wondered aloud.

  “The chance to get to know you better. You seem like an interesting person.”

  Well, damn. That was a lukewarm endorsement. He didn’t want her trying to seduce him—his life was complicated enough—but it was a blow to his ego to know that she’d been following him like an orphaned cub because she’d never met a monk before or something along those lines. He should feel safe, not faintly downcast, but hell, he could use a friend, now more than ever.

  Before he could change his mind, he stuck out a hand. “Friends then, if you can stand my bad temper. I’m told that I’m a proper pain in the ass.”

  He realized just how small she was when his hand engulfed hers. It was so warm, softer than he could’ve imagined, not that he was prone to thinking about other people’s bodies. Those thoughts only led to frustration.

  And when she smiled up at him, his heart turned over.

  5.

  I can’t believe I said all that crap with a straight face.

  Joss felt like her entire body was vibrating, just from touching his hand. The reaction was ridiculous and over the top, but there it was. She’d had sex before that hadn’t been so momentous.

  Somehow, she kept her expression calm. If he had any inkling how excited she was, he’d already be running the other way. My poker face must be better than I thought.

  It had felt like a punch in the chest when she heard Callum telling Garven that anybody could court her. Though she’d known nothing could happen between them, still such a complete disavowal of interest scraped like salt in a wound that hadn’t healed over yet. Love at first sight didn’t exist; it was a combination of delicious hormones mixed with visual impact, but still. All the intellectual understanding in the world couldn’t change the power of that initial reaction.

  Sometimes, she still heard that echo in the back of her head when she looked at him. Mine. He’s mine.

  Too bad the Order of Saint Casimir had prior claim.

  Joss realized she had been holding his hand for too long, so she shook it and let go, rubbing her fingers together to capture that tingle of pleasure. She managed a casual smile.

  “I should get going. Hope you’ll come to the show tomorrow night.”

  He surprised her by asking, “What time?”

  “Seven. Take care until then. And if you need a sympathetic ear at any point, you know where I am.”

  That’s nonchalant enough, right? With a cheery wave, she headed off and she used all her self-control not to look back at him like a completely obsessed weirdo. The only way this friendship could happen was if she convinced him that she wasn’t secretly longing for him with every fiber of her being. So far, it seemed to be working.

  Maybe I should get into acting when the war is over.

  “You remember where to go?”

  Surprised, she turned to find that Callum had caught up to her to check on that. Joss should probably say that she was fine, but it was dark, and she honestly wasn’t 100% sure that she did know.

  Shrugging, she said, “I’ll give it my best shot. You want to guide me?”

  “This is the last time. It’s not hard to learn the layout here.”

  His offer might sound grudging, but it was deeply courteous. While she might not be in danger, she could wear herself out, roaming a strange place after nightfall.

  “You have your hands full,” she said softly. “Sorry to give you more to worry about.”

  He stuffed said hands into the pockets of his jacket, a rugged brown thing with a fuzzy wool lining. “You’re also offering to lighten my load, so I should be nice. Nice as I get anyway.”

  He ought to give himself more credit. Joss noticed, even if Callum didn’t, the way he unconsciously shortened his steps to keep pace with her. If he wasn’t doing it on purpose, it meant he liked her enough on some level to want to stay close.

  “You must be worried about the leak,” she said, keeping her words oblique. He might not have raised the drug issue yet, and she didn’t want to make his job harder.

  “How—let me guess, Magda told you.”

  “She mentioned it at Daruvar. Don’t worry, I haven’t said anything to anyone else. What do you plan to do?”

  He let out an aggravated-sounding breath. “Hell if I know. I put Jere on it. The biggest problem I dealt with in the order was someone borrowing a book from the library without checking it out properly.”

  “Did you work in archives? That must have been so peaceful.”

  “It was,” he said, seeming surprised that she saw that.

  “My cousin always said as much,” Joss told him. “Pru was Latent, and she took refuge in books when things were the worst for her.”

  “But not you?” he guessed.

  “I prefer comics. It’s not the same without the art. And I’ve always found my shelter in music anyway.” She peered at him sideways to gauge how he was taking that. People always seemed to think it was because she wanted attention or because she yearned to be famous, but the truth was, she didn’t feel entirely alive without it.

  “You’d probably like some of the illuminated manuscripts,” Callum said.

  She blinked, cocking her head. “Are visitors allowed to see them?”

  “Not so much. I spoke without thinking, something I do too often around you.”

  “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

  “Better than thinking I’m an impulsive lummox,” he mumbled.

  “You’re too hard on yourself. Let me know if I can do anything to help. I mean, the Golgoth camped just past the grid is outside my range, but I can keep my eyes and ears open regarding—”

  Suddenly, he sealed a hand over her mouth and pulled her into the shadows of a nearby building. Though her heart pounded wildly, she didn’t protest. Joss didn’t bite him either, mostly because he had her pressed against his big body, and her whole being flushed with delight.

  “Where did they go?” a male voice asked, and then someone shushed him.

  Someone is
following us? Why?

  She had no idea if it had to do with that stupid bet or if it might be more sinister. The fact the Callum had silenced her forcibly suggested the latter. Joss breathed deeply and slowly through her nose.

  If their two pursuers paid close attention, they could use their ears and noses to track Joss and Callum down. If she knew that, Callum surely did too. She tapped on his hand urgently, trying to convey as much with her eyes.

  He held the look and nodded once, then he removed his hand, but he kept a hold of her wrist, leading her around the structure with surprisingly light steps. She moved as he did, matching his stealth. Cats were better at stalking than bears anyway.

  Soon, they stepped into the building that housed her room. She exhaled unsteadily. “What was that all about?”

  “I’m not sure. Let’s get upstairs. We can talk more there.”

  He’s taking me to my door? It wasn’t the time to be giddy about such a small thing, especially under these circumstances, but she took pleasure in being walked up. Callum came in and shut the door behind him without waiting for an invitation, then he headed straight to the window, closing the curtains against anyone who might be watching.

  “I won’t mention the drug issue in public again,” she promised, as he turned with a deep scowl. “Do you think this is related?”

  His brow furrowed. “I don’t want to think so, but I already know I can’t trust everyone here. Someone’s selling drugs to the Eldritch, and they might be worried about what I learned at Daruvar.”

  “With good reason.”

  “Look,” he said abruptly. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want you poking around. It could be dangerous. You’re here to sing, so do that, all right? It’s enough.”

  She folded her arms, still standing by the door. “I want to help you.”

  “You think it’ll help if I’m constantly worried that something will happen to you?” He ran a rough hand through his already messy hair, and she immediately wanted to do the same.