by Jory Strong
Blaine laughed. "Smart choice."
Inside, Ella was already talking to an elderly shopkeeper. Josiah entered the shop and dropped onto a chair near the dressing rooms.
Ella glanced it him, quickly ducked her head as she had the times she'd caught him looking at her in the apothecary's workshop. His heart softened even as his cock hardened.
She finished the hushed conversation with the shopkeeper and was led to a rack of clothing close to where he waited. He wasn't a man who cared about women's fashions, but he assumed the most expensive garments were along the opposite wall, close to the counter where money exchanged hands.
Ella took only three dresses from the rack then disappeared into a small changing stall. Long minutes passed. Then more of them.
Imagining her stripping out of her clothing, he asked, "Do you need help?"
"No."
He stood at the breathless sound of her voice. Dios, he wanted her.
The door opened and she stepped out wearing a light blue dress that matched her eyes. He was able to look away from them only because her arms were bared, drawing his gaze downward, along a beautifully curved form to sleek calves.
It was a simple design, not a dress any of the women invited to the club would wear. Not a dress meant for seduction, but he was seduced.
"I approve," he said, the husk in his voice making him glad Blaine was outside and Saul wasn't present.
Ella's smile slammed into his chest. She turned to the shopkeeper. "The other two dresses are equally nice. I'll take all three."
He followed them to the counter. The shopkeeper looked at the tags and tallied the amount due. Ella reached into the satchel and pulled out a small money purse.
"Mami," he chided softly, feeling a swell of tenderness rather than a sting to his pride. "You know I'm not going to allow my wife to buy her own clothing."
"I—"
He stopped her with a kiss, swallowed the soft sound of surprise. He'd only meant to silence her, but he couldn't prevent the rub of his tongue against hers. Once, twice, again when he felt a tremble of want go through his innocent wife.
"I will buy the dresses, mami."
She nodded agreement and he hid his smile. Everything about their interaction would soon be whispered about and embellished on, including her blush.
It was impossible not to compare her to Geneva. The times he'd gone shopping with her, she'd never asked what anything cost before snatching it from a rack. She'd gone unerringly to the clothing that would accentuate her beauty and make a man happy to pay and silently count the minutes until he could strip the fabric away from her body.
She'd dressed in a way that inflamed, that was meant to inflame, while Ella… The burn for her had nothing to do with what she wore.
He took several silver pieces from his pocket, far more than the dresses cost, and lay them on the counter. "For the dresses and your assistance."
"Thank you, Warlord." The coins disappeared into the old woman's pocket.
Ella folded the dresses and slipped them into the satchel. When her hand emerged, she was holding a squat white jar. "I'd also like to thank you." She unscrewed the top, revealing a smooth white cream. "This will help with your arthritis if you rub it into your knuckles three to four times a day. I can help with the first application if you'd like."
Josiah looked at the woman's hands and saw the swollen, misshapen knuckles. The old shopkeeper said, "I don't want to keep you, Lady."
"It's no bother."
Ella massaged the medicine into the old woman's knuckles, screwed the lid back on the jar when she was finished and placed it on the counter.
They left the shop. Jacob hopped off a short brick wall and raced toward them. "You look beautiful, Mama!"
Tears sheened her eyes. "Thank you."
Jacob reached them, gave her an exuberant hug, leaving the light blue material smudged with grime. She stroked sweaty bangs off his forehead. "I've got what I came for. Ready to go home?"
"Can we look around some more?"
A quick glance his way, from his wife and son. "I'm all yours for the morning."
They reentered the marketplace. Wandered from stall to stall.
He tried to remember the last time he'd so casually mingled with his people, and couldn't. When they needed him, they came to him. And when they broke his laws, they prayed that their infractions didn't rise to the level that he was called or they were bought before him.
Lunch was purchased at a booth selling chicken along with corn roasted in its husk. They ate, and afterward, he took Jacob to one of the bathrooms rather than send him with Blaine.
When they returned, Ella was standing at a stall selling small animal carvings. "Can we go see the pigeons now?" Jacob asked.
"If that's what your mama wants."
A woman with a young daughter reached Ella before they did. She cast a quick glance toward him and paled, took a step backward, but Ella's hand shot out and gripped the woman's wrist, stopping her retreat.
The woman said something. Ella knelt and coaxed the little girl from behind her mother.
The girl turned around and Ella gently lifted the faded, mended shirt to reveal a rash. She lightly explored the rash with her fingertips, looked up and said something to the mother.
His heart swelled at her obvious skill and willingness to help his people. She was so much more than he'd expected when he'd agreed to take a wife for Jacob's sake.
He tousled Jacob's hair and the boy leaned in rather than lean away. "When we get to the stronghold, I'm going to have your mama see if there's anything she can do for an injured prisoner."
"Okay, Papa."
* * * * *
Chapter 13
Victoria hurried up the stairs to her grandparents' house in Wilton. Rarely did she come here alone, and almost never was she summoned.
The house she lived in was a hovel compared to theirs, and theirs would serve as a guesthouse if it was in the section of New San Jose that was home to the elite. But there was no shame in living in this neighborhood.
They lived at the very edge of the Rose section, the most desirable of all the flowered neighborhoods. Rose had dancehalls that were often frequented by the marriage-aged elite.
It wasn't uncommon for a girl in Rose, or from an area like Wilton, named after one of the city's founding families, to be elevated in status through marriage.
The elite were conscious of the dangers of inbreeding, and many preferred to look inside New San Jose rather than arrange a marriage to someone from a different walled city.
Reaching the front porch, she knocked lightly on the door. It was opened by her grandmother, who pulled her into a hug, whispered, "A visitor is here for you. Tread carefully, darling, he's one of Merati's, and high-ranking."
Icy chill swept through Victoria. Damn Ella. Damn her, damn her, damn her!
This had to be because of her! If she hadn't married the warlord—
Then I'd be the one enduring the warlord's touch, being violated by him.
Damn the tunnel instead. If not for it, then she wouldn't have to be afraid now. If not for the tunnel, she wouldn't feel the pressure to hurry and find a suitor among the elite. Her mother had told her that one of the warlord's men had held a gun to her temple. You need to get out of the boroughs, in case Varga carries word to Josiah about Ella's true parentage.
If not for the tunnel, she wouldn't have had to grow up in a place the elite considered fit only for animals, one small step above the violent filth of the warrens. Her father could have risen in society, returning her mother at least to the place she'd held in it, if not higher.
But having damned the tunnel, Victoria couldn't suppress the thrill that came with knowing the secret her parents had tried to keep from her—and more. She knew where the entrance to it was on the warlord's side.
Her grandmother's arms fell away. They stepped into the foyer and Victoria glanced at herself in the mirror.
"Beautiful as always, my dear." Her grandmother squeezed he
r arm, conveying the message, use that beauty.
They entered a parlor, the furniture in it as fine as any that would grace the homes of the elite. Victoria's heart fluttered at seeing the man waiting there. His blond looks made her feel like a moth to fire and her fingers twitched with the desire to brush his longish hair off his forehead.
She'd always imagined herself married to one of the elite, but a high ranking officer who was close enough to Merati to wield power over the elite, who might one day become Commander of the Peace Force…
The man stood, the smile he sent her as bright as the sun itself. She blushed, curtsied.
His khaki suit was the current style, his white shirt and dark blue tie made from the finest of fabrics. His brown shoes shown and it was easy to imagine a servant on bended knee, polishing those shoes until his own face was reflected back at him.
"I'm Hayden Kiem."
The Peace Force officer's voice resonated with confidence and power, making her heart beat a little faster. He turned toward her grandfather. "I'd very much like to see your rose garden. Perhaps Victoria can accompany me?"
They allowed it. Of course they allowed it. Saying no would have brought unnecessary trouble. And there'd be no harm to her reputation from being alone with Hayden.
The gardens were visible through the windows at the back of the house, and her grandparents were rightfully proud of their flowers. They wouldn't mind word of their garden's beauty reaching the elite.
Hayden offered her his arm. She took it, tingles emanating from where they touched. They left through the front door rather than traipse through the more private areas of the house.
"Your grandfather started out as a tailor?" Hayden asked, making polite conversation. The Peace Force had dossiers on all the families in Wilton.
"Yes. He was a tailor. From the beginning he made high-end clothing."
Over time he'd become the owner of a workshop that turned out fine suits worn by the upper classes. A second workshop had followed, and then a third.
"He was also smart enough to invest in other endeavors," Hayden said.
"Yes." She suppressed a shiver, wondered if that had been a veiled threat, if Merati suspected her family of smuggling goods in and out of the city.
They reached the start of the rose garden and propriety demanded she break their physical contact. She released his arm, breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of roses, of security and wealth. Because her grandfather had done so well, there were no vegetables or fruit trees in the yard. There were no clucking chickens or pigs that needed to be slopped and slaughtered.
The bush in front of them held five delicate yellow flowers. Hayden cupped the one in front of him. "It's beautiful, but it barely warrants a look in your presence."
Her heart tumbled despite being accustomed to compliments. She looked at him from beneath thick black lashes. "Did you see me at one of the dancehalls in Rose?"
He smiled and her toes curled inside her shoes. "If I had, I would have barreled through the crowd and introduced myself. No, it's duty that brings me here, though I've never been so glad to have been assigned a task by Merati."
"Does he often assign you tasks?"
"Hmmm. That's a hard question to answer without sounding as if I'm bragging."
She dared to reach out and squeeze his forearm. "I'll consider it an honest answer."
"Well then, the truth is that I answer directly to him, but much of my work is of my own making."
A shiver of delight went through her along with a tremor of fear. It would be foolish to pretend ignorance, and better to determine if he could become a suitor, or at least a powerful ally.
She sighed dispiritedly. "You're here because of my sister. My parents were beside themselves yesterday when they returned home. Not only had she disgraced herself with a man in the warrens, but…"
Victoria shuddered in true revulsion. "She ruined herself with a warlord. At least he married her. Still…"
Victoria blinked rapidly. Tears came when she thought about what Ella's marriage might do to her chances of becoming one of the elite.
Hayden took her hand, carried it to his mouth and brushed his lips against her skin. Her tears dried.
"Your sister's marriage can be used to your advantage."
Victoria sniffed, retrieved a lacy handkerchief from the small drawstring purse attached to her belt. She dabbed at her eyes. "How can it possibly be an advantage?"
"A prisoner has come into Josiah's possession. This man is important to Merati. Important enough that he himself would introduce you to society if you aided in recovering this man." Hayden pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "Though I'm not without power and influence myself."
She dabbed at her eyes again, balled the handkerchief in her hand. "What would I have to do?"
"Visit your sister—"
"We're not close. She'd immediately be suspicious."
Hayden brushed his thumb across her knuckles. "We'll work together to come up with a way to minimize that suspicion."
The prospect of spending more time with him appealed to her. "If Ella allows me to visit, what then?"
"Find out where the prisoner is being kept. Find out what condition he's in. Then find an excuse to get out and about, looking at fabrics in some of the shops for instance. One of my men will make contact and you'll pass on anything you've learned."
The proof that he knew something about her had thrill wrestling with fear. "Ella would believe that I'd want to visit dress shops and look at material. The few times my father insisted that I accompany the two of them into the warrens, I thought it was only fair that they leave enough time to look at fabrics."
"Excellent. Your sister might well be in a position to—"
"It wouldn't be smart to trust her." It was too easy to picture Ella going straight to the warlord, encouraging him to make a deal with Merati so the prisoner could receive medical care in the city.
"You know best," Hayden said and Victoria tingled with pleasure. "And even if you were able to gain your sister's help, I believe there's little chance you'd be able to help the prisoner escape."
It surprised her that he didn't have spies who could tell him where the prisoner was being kept or what condition he was in. "So all you want is information?"
He kissed her hand. "I wish it were that easy. Truly. The warlord has a son. You need to take the boy for Merati."
Fear flared again, making her heart beat its way into her throat. Hayden released her hand and pulled a syringe from his jacket pocket. "This will allow you to knock the boy out. I'll teach you how to use it. The dosage has been calibrated for the boy. It should render him unconscious long enough to get to the city gate in Josiah's territory."
Panic quickened her heartbeat. Merati had the power to order her into the warrens. He could imprison her parents, take their home and find the tunnel. But to be alone and without allies on the other side of the wall…
She shivered. "I'm not sure I can find the gate on my own."
"You won't be on your own. One of my men will always be somewhere close, watching for you."
Disappointment crowded in. She'd thought…
"You won't be there?"
"I will, but I can't risk being seen more often than necessary. I'll come out of hiding when you have the boy. And to relieve your worry, before you enter the warrens, I'll show you a photograph taken from on top of the wall. You can study it."
The panic eased. He stared deeply into her eyes and her breath caught, her heart tripled its beat. Being married to one of the elite might shield her in the future if the tunnel was discovered—but her survival seemed far more likely if she was married to a high-ranking Peace Force officer.
"Your going into the warrens and acquiring the boy is the best plan. If we can pull this off, Merati will be grateful." His voice dropped. "Will you do it?"
For us, she heard. "Yes. If the prisoner is important to Merati…"
She trailed off, giving Hayden a chance to offer enc
ouragement, to appreciate her cleverness.
"Go on," he said.
"Ella has skills, but if the prisoner is seriously injured, a doctor would be better. I know one, he's very talented. He was fond of my sister. She sometimes helped him with patients and often made the potions he ordered from Father. Ella imagined Griffin might marry her, but after I introduced him to a friend of mine… When he learns where she is, he'll worry that his breaking her heart made her vulnerable and caused her disgrace. He'll feel guilty enough to make sure she's okay in the warrens."
"Brilliant! Would she ask him to look after the prisoner?"
"If she knows about the injured man, yes." Ella would send for Griffin herself if the warlord would allow it. So why not take credit for trying to save the man Merati wanted?
"Can you convince this doctor to go? Or do I need to pay him a visit?"
"I'll do it," Victoria hurried to say, wanting to prove her value, and not convinced Griffin wouldn't warn Ella that the prisoner was important to Merati. "I can get him to go with me."
"Taking the boy is the more viable plan. That'll require your staying with your sister. Are you sure she won't be suspicious if you show up with the doctor?"
"If anything, she'll think our parents asked him to escort me. And if she knows about the prisoner, she'll be grateful for Griffin's arrival."
Hayden nodded and Victoria glowed from within at the approval and admiration in his eyes.
* * * * *
Chapter 14
Two of Josiah's soldiers opened the stronghold's front doors. Saul sat in the heavy chair that the men jokingly referred to as el trono, the throne. His legs were stretched out in front of him, while DeAngelo and Hector leaned against columns to the left.
"You're looking comfortable in my chair, amigo," Josiah said. "Thinking to become warlord?"
"Not yet." Saul pushed himself out of the chair, eyes going cool and flat after a glance at Ella. "You just passing through?"
"No." Josiah halted Ella and turned her to face him. "There's an injured man I want you to attend."
