The cistern was only half-full, but their clothes needed to be washed. So Kat rolled up her sleeves, soaped, scrubbed and rinsed. Then she spread the clothes on a clean flat rock, weighed them down with pebbles and went out with her rifle.
She’d always liked hunting—the quiet solitude, the open spaces, and pitting her skill against animals that might kill her if she wasn’t careful. But now it was a necessity; she didn’t want too much of the town’s resources being diverted to the outpost. Being given coal was enough of a concession.
The hunt took most of the morning, because after she shot a duskwing, it fell like a stone into a dry riverbed. She had a hook and line to snare any game out of reach, and she reached it before any predators did, but finding the bird took time. The duskwing was also heavier than she had expected, so she heaved it on her back. Plenty of eating, she thought as she returned to the outpost, where she plucked and cut up the bird outside.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with the work,” Marus said as they were eating. She’d stewed the bird with onions and wild garlic, and he’d taken a second helping already.
“I don’t expect you to.” Kat bit into an onion, now cooked tender. “Not yet, anyway.”
After she had left him alone, yanking the door closed so hard the wood had cracked, she’d longed to go back home. But she didn’t have a choice. And although she’d been furious and resentful—especially since he didn’t even acknowledge he’d done something very wrong in lying to her people while eating their food—she couldn’t bring herself to harm someone who was already injured and clearly in pain.
Besides, she didn’t need to. As a Prince without power, he wouldn’t be tolerated among either his kind or hers. He might be as doomed as they were.
So Janice had told her to get some use out of him before he was killed in one way or another, and for that she had to remain in the outpost.
Though that wasn’t as much of a prison sentence as it had seemed when Marus had first ordered her to be his servant. There was always work to be done, but it wasn’t as though she’d been used to leisure, and it was oddly peaceful now that she wasn’t afraid of him. She felt at ease, not that she would ever say so to him.
She just wished she had something more to report. The next day, she made the journey to the town, partly for that reason and partly to get more supplies. She saw to the cart being loaded while runners went to bring Stephen Waverly and the mayor to the council room.
Janice listened to the report in silence, and if she was disappointed at hearing nothing useful, it didn’t show. “In your opinion, was he telling the truth?”
Kat nodded. “He doesn’t know.”
“That is a pity.” Janice went to the window, looking out over the town square. “By the way, Novak’s wife was in a village outside New Galveston, and the people of that village were the first casualties when a Prince razed the city. But Novak dug up as much as he could to find her body—and he didn’t.”
“If this Ractane wanted her to have his children, she might still be alive.” Not that that was likely to be any comfort.
Janice turned. “Except the birthing might kill the mother. With the Princes it was the other way around, wasn’t it?”
Kat tried to imagine being raped—possibly over and over—and knowing the only end to that nightmare would be her death. A death through forced childbirth. The thought made her feel sick, and she had to swallow hard.
“So Novak’s in jail?” was all she could say.
Janice shook her head. “He was released from the infirmary yesterday.”
“What?”
“What offense did you imagine he could be put in jail for?”
“Trying to…” Kat’s voice trailed off as she remembered the law.
From the quirk of Janice’s brows, she knew what would have come next. “He took a horse without permission. His food allocation has been decreased accordingly for the next week. He also tried to provoke what he thought was a Prince, but he was distraught. I daresay a lot of people would be, in his position. I couldn’t imprison him for that unless I wanted a lot of ill-feeling in the town, not to mention potential trouble from the Farlanders, and it wasn’t as though he assaulted a human. Now that would be against the law.”
Stephen finished transcribing his notes and dried them, but he was the consummate observer; unless he was called on to offer some information or opinion, he wouldn’t say a word. No help there, Kat thought.
“But Novak might tell the Farlanders.” She didn’t think they would attack the outpost as a group, but they always seemed to attract fanatics, what Janice called splinter elements, and they had never sworn to ask permission before they tried to kill a Prince. The last thing she needed was to be torn between Marus’s safety and human lives. She couldn’t even feel relieved that Novak had no long-lasting ill-effects from her rifle butt connecting with his skull.
“I warned him not to,” Janice said tiredly, “but he told me he was disgusted by our shielding and feeding one of them. I told him if he keeps his mouth shut, he can visit the girl, but he seems almost as revolted by her. If you want to leave now, go ahead.”
That was all the dismissal Kat needed, and she was out of the town as soon as she could. The heavily laden ponies seemed to take much longer than usual to plod to the outpost, and as the hours stretched out endlessly, she wished she had a watch. Yes, and might as well wish for a few tons of dynamite, a million rounds of ammunition and another cruise ship while she was at it.
The outpost looked the same as when she had left, but as she began to unload their supplies, she thought of setting up a few traps around the place. She was so preoccupied with planning those that a soft footstep made her spin around, knife at the ready. Marus jerked back with his good hand flung up.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “Need any help?”
Kat sheathed the knife, telling herself not to be skittish. Nothing was out of the ordinary—well, as ordinary as a place could be with a Prince in residence. Legs braced apart, she grasped a full pack and managed to lift it out. Marus took it one-handed and slung it over his shoulder.
Once the cart was emptied and the ponies in the stable, she went inside with him. “If you see any other humans, don’t approach unless you recognize them,” she said. “Mayor Stuyvesant or Captain Blake or Dr. McKay, they’re safe.”
His brows went up. “Your people know.”
“We had to let Novak go, and there’s nothing to stop him talking. I don’t think the Farlanders will try to kill you, because they know I’m here, but best be on the safe side.”
Marus sat down. “Well, I’ve been prepared for humans since I took up residence here.”
She knew he could be arrogant, but that was going too far. “You weren’t even carrying a weapon when I first saw you.”
“Because if you knew I needed a weapon, you’d have been suspicious. No, I loosened that boulder at the top of the path. If I saw any hostile humans, I’d lever it loose and roll it downhill.”
Any people on the path would have enough time to leap out of the way, but with luck the boulder would start a landslide. “I suppose that’s not a bad start. Go on.”
Marus gave her a blank look. “After that, I’d run like hell. Enough about me. Did that girl recover?”
Kat had forgotten to ask, and she felt annoyed. To cover that up, she started to unpack some of the food, but Marus clearly hadn’t finished.
“Did the mayor ask you to stay here although I’ve told you everything?” he said.
“We can’t be sure you’re telling the truth.” The last subject she wanted to discuss was her remaining there, because while part of her longed for a direct order from Janice to return, the rest wasn’t so sure. “And even if you can’t take earth form, you look like a Prince. A shield of painted glass might be better than no shield at all, if that painted glass fools s
omeone.”
“You deserve some return on your investment. I understand.”
It frustrated her more that he was controlled and courteous, because if he’d quarreled with her as they’d done on the day he’d been stabbed, fighting back would have made her feel better. Not that he was easy to live with. He never complained, but she suspected that was the arrogance common to Princes; he didn’t keep his mouth shut out of consideration for her, but because it was beneath him to acknowledge discomfort or humiliation.
She thudded the plates on the table and cut slices of bread made with ground nuts, topping them with rounds of goat cheese. Marus dipped a bunch of wild grapes in the water bucket and brought them out dripping. He wiped his wet fingers slowly on his sleeve.
“Hardly seems fair that this duty should fall on you alone,” he said in the same cool assessing tone he’d used earlier, as if they were discussing the most efficient way to divvy up a small task. “Why don’t your people take turns staying here, now you know I can’t kill any of you?”
Why didn’t they? She remembered struggling not to think that she’d been taken from her home forever, but she no longer felt so isolated and alone, so cut off from everything that mattered to her. Of course, now she could return whenever she wanted. That had to be the reason.
“We don’t need news of your condition spreading,” she said.
“Then order them to keep their distance from me. Or was there another reason you were told to stay here?”
She bit off a chunk of the bread so she wouldn’t be tempted to answer right away. The cheese was soft and creamy, and she was hungry enough after the journey that she took another bite.
“What other reason could there be?” she said.
Marus had already finished—he ate as if every meal was his last, which she supposed wasn’t an unrealistic philosophy. “You don’t have a family in the town.”
The mouthful she’d taken stuck in her throat, which was a good thing, because otherwise she might have asked how he knew. Just a lucky guess on his part.
He plucked the grapes off their stem. “Strange that you’re not married. Not for want of offers.”
She swallowed and poured a tumbler of water; this was beyond annoying. “What gives you that idea? When you don’t know the first thing about humans.” Or about her, for that matter.
He reached across the table, and she thought he would try to touch her hand, but it was only to put half the grapes on her plate. “Your people value survival highly, is my guess. And of all the women I’ve met, you’re the most skilled at surviving.”
It was the most unexpected compliment he could pay her, and the only one she couldn’t argue with. A lot of women in the town were more full-bodied and young. Many of them could read too. But he was right; she had a lifetime’s experience at keeping herself alive, and protecting the people who trusted her.
“I’ve mouthed off to you more than once,” she said.
He bit into a grape. “Defiance is part of survival. Why didn’t you marry anyone?”
It was too personal a question, and that should have irritated her, but it didn’t. Maybe because of the quiet somnolence of the afternoon, with dust motes dancing in the sunlight from the windows, or the tart sweetness of a grape bursting against her tongue. Maybe because she wanted him to know.
“I was never in love.” She looked straight across at him, but that time there was no defiance in her. There was nothing at all. “Too much of a risk.”
His gaze was steady on her. “You risk your life on a daily basis.”
“A body can only be killed once.”
She’d lost too many of the people she’d cared about, beginning with her parents—not even at the Princes’ hands, but simply because their lives were hard and the world a deadly place—so she had no intention of making matters worse for herself by adding anyone else to that list. As Marus had said, she was good at surviving. That meant honing herself, like a blade, down to what was necessary to see another sunrise.
The only person who disagreed with that was Janice. “Love may not be necessary,” she’d said once, “but it’s essential.” That was the kind of sentimental baffledygook which never failed to send Kat to the shooting range, where everything was clear and direct, and all that hurt was the hard whack of recoil into her shoulder. Which she was used to.
Rather than let herself be drawn into anything else, she got up to clear the table, but once she was in the armory alone that night, she couldn’t sleep. Damn him for being alive and for lying to her. For kissing her, that most of all.
She didn’t want to be attracted to him, but in the time she’d spent with him, his eyes—well, they’d never be normal, but now she saw them as just another part of him, no different from the dark hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck. And she hadn’t needed any time to notice his body was tall and lean, with hard muscles wrapped in smooth bronze skin. Even the bruises couldn’t change that.
If his appeal were only physical, she could have ignored him, but he’d worked his way past her defenses in other ways. He found a rusting helmet, put scraps from their meals inside, and hung it from the eaves in the tower roof. Naturally, the birds loved it, and Kat thought it was a clever way of gathering game together for the pot. She was about to net the entire flock when he explained he’d done it to watch them instead.
That wouldn’t put any food on the table, but he seemed to like the pastime, so she let it go. A Prince listening to overfed birds chirp made her wonder what other eccentricities he had, but it was also oddly endearing, not that she would ever tell him so. He was generous and quick-witted, despite having a vile sense of humor, and when she thought of how he had kissed her, a slow coiling heat slid through her body to her stomach. Then lower.
She closed her eyes and imagined him saying her name in that deep voice, whispering in her ear as he’d done just before they’d faced the linx, on their first night together. The scent of grapes was on his breath, in his mouth, and it made her shiver.
She’d seen every inch of his body when she’d first arrived in the outpost, but sponging him to break the fever had removed yet another of the barriers; after that, she didn’t have any instinctive fear of touching a Prince. Touching him. She wished she knew what to do.
Why do anything? He wouldn’t touch her without her showing she wanted it, so all she had to do was keep hiding it. She’d learned stoicism young. She’d keep him at arm’s length, and eventually this would ebb and disappear like his fever, because it was only another kind of sickness.
There, she thought as if she had fitted a large pack into a small cupboard and slammed the door. As for her body still wound tight as a spring, she’d busy herself with work, of which there was plenty.
As always, having a plan helped, and she set it in motion the next day. She dragged the straw pallets outside, then followed suit with all but the two beds in best condition. If she’d been allowed to net those birds, she could have tried making feather mattresses for the remaining beds, but now freshly stuffed pallets would have to do. Marus watched as she took the axe to the bedframes.
“Is that for firewood?” he asked.
He could be very curious, but now that she knew how to deal with him, she was in a good mood. “Watch and see.”
She split the wood, nailed it to make a new ladder and used that to repair the holes in the roof. Marus had set out their midday meal by the time she was done, so although she was hot and sweaty, she felt even better. Maybe they could get along together without any…complications.
After their meal, she started to sew old sheets together to make covers for the new pallets, glancing occasionally at the windows in the hope of rain. Clouds filled the sky, so thick she could barely see the stitches, and the air pressed down warm as smoke.
The thunder was muted, nothing as bad as her first night there, and the rain pelted down. Kat finishe
d the second cover and stuffed both with fresh straw; it was prickly against her bare hands, but she liked the smell. She buried her face in the finished pallet and took a deep contented sniff.
Then she lifted her head, braced for an amused look from Marus. He’d probably been used to much finer surroundings, and enjoying the smell of hay seemed a bit childish as well. But he wasn’t in the dining room.
It occurred to her that she wasn’t sure when he had left, when she’d last seen him.
The rain rattling against the tin roofs and splatting on the ground drowned out any other sounds. She took the pallets to the barracks and arranged them on the bedframes, wondering what had possessed her to make two. She would never want him in there with her.
The dining room was empty when she went back. She cleaned out the ashes, built up the fire, swept the floor with an absurd-looking broom, and scrubbed the pots until they shone. The dining room was cleaner and more orderly than it might ever have been, and she was deeply disquieted by then.
Giving up any pretense of further gainful activity, she took a candle and left the room. Her other hand was free, ready to spring to her knife’s hilt, but there was no one in the armory or the hole of a kitchen. No sign of him when she stuck her head outside.
The tower was the only place she hadn’t checked, so she made herself climb the stairs at a measured pace, in case he was seated on the stone bench circling the inside of the deck. But that was empty too—hardly surprising, since the deck wasn’t enclosed. Rain lashed in, pooling around her feet. Of course he wasn’t there.
Her hair had come loose while she’d been searching, and she hadn’t noticed until then. She pushed it behind her ears. If he’d slipped away, could she bring him back? Even dogs couldn’t follow a scent after heavy rain. Should she bring him back?
Or was it more likely he wouldn’t leave willingly, not before his arm had healed, and not without supplies?
Lightning flashed, turning everything pallid where it wasn’t dark with shadows. Kat took a step forward, because in that instant, she saw a figure standing well outside the gate—too far to recognize who it was, especially in the storm. She willed the sky to light up again.
The Beast Prince Page 13
