The door at the head of the corridor opened, bringing smells wafting down from the kitchens. It was enough to drive Thealos mad with hunger. He glanced at the knight and shook his head. “That smells like a roast hog and cider, doesn’t it? They built this place near the kitchens to torture us. I’d rather face the rack about now.”
“You’re right. Smells like roast with onions and sage. The Governor is supping well tonight. I’ll remember that when I hang him,” he added as the clamoring within the other cells rose up around them.
“They haven’t fed me all day,” Thealos said. “Maybe it’s time now.”
Sturnin shrugged. “You think you’ll get the governor’s scraps, do you? Don’t let it bother you, lad. You get used to hunger in the saddle.”
“Don’t talk about horses, you’re only making me more hungry,” Thealos quipped, cocking his head, hearing the sound of bootsteps approach. One guard followed by someone with low-heeled boots. It was a soft step, almost a…woman’s?
Thealos nudged closer to the door as a guard approached and unlocked it. He tugged it open with a grating squeal, and Thealos gaped with surprise as Ticastasy walked in bearing a tray loaded with food.
She wore the gown he had given her. For a moment, he was paralyzed. He could see her clearly in his mind’s eye serving tables at that tavern in Sol. The image clashed with a dank cell full of roaches and stinking straw. He blinked, trying to be sure it was her and that his eyes weren’t deceiving him.
“I’ve always thought it strange how your eyes glow like that,” she said with the twist of a smile, bringing the tray over and dropping down in a crouch. She glanced back at the guard in annoyance, and he fumed and walked away, grumbling at her to shut the door when she finished feeding them.
“Let’s see, we have some spice stew here in a loaf trencher, some buttered wafers and apricot halves.” She glanced over at the knight. “Hello, Sturnin.”
“Hello, lass,” he said, studying her. “How did you end up serving tables down here?”
“Eat up,” she insisted, grabbing a wafer and tossing it to the knight. He caught it and started chewing. “I made sure the stew wasn’t scorched before dipping in the ladle, and let’s see – I even brought some Silvan wine because ale and mead are also both Forbidden. I can’t understand why that’s true, but then I’ve never pretended to know everything about the Shae.”
“What are you doing here?” Thealos demanded, sensing that something was wrong. Her bantering was forced, uneasy.
“Saving you both, it would appear,” she whispered, smiling with satisfaction at his bulging eyes. “Quickly, eat! That guard won’t wander down the hall for very long and I’ve knocked out plenty for one day. Here, have some fruit.” She tossed Sturnin an apricot.
Thealos tore a hunk from the loaf and dabbed it in the stew. It was steaming hot, but he ate it ravenously. The meat was a little tough, but he wasn’t about to quibble over how rare it was supposed to be. He took a long sip from the wine cup, soothing his parched throat. It was an excellent vintage, probably from the governor’s wine cellars. She bent close to him and stared into his eyes. He felt his stomach shrivel.
“How is your wine?” she asked coolly.
He set the goblet down, wiping his mouth. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“Because I need to ask you something. And I want the truth. You can always tell if a man is lying – it’s always in his eyes. Is that why your eyes glow, then? I’ve wondered that a long while about the Shae.”
He stared back at her. “I don’t understand.” He swallowed, feeling her presence so uncomfortably close. She shifted nearer, her face so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. It was as if they were lounging on a cushioned window seat, not a filthy cellar floor.
“Are you the son of a barter?” she asked.
A shaft of guilt went into his stomach. He closed his eyes, feeling the irony slap him behind the guilt. He knew there was no point denying anything. She wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t already know.
“Yes,” Thealos replied, not daring to open his eyes.
She was quiet for several moments, but he could feel her breathing, feel her stiffen. He opened his eyes. It didn’t matter how guilty he felt. This was the only chance he had to escape. He had to convince her to help him.
“I don’t need to ask how you found out,” Thealos said, staring into her face. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”
She nodded curtly. “Don’t change the subject, Quickfellow. Is that really your name, then?”
Thealos nodded. “I should have clarified this earlier. Let me try to explain it quickly. Many, many years ago,” he said, feeling suddenly exhausted, “my father’s family were heirs to the Quicksilver throne. This was back when the Shae lived over in the East Kingdoms. There was a revolt and a civil war over the succession of the throne. My Correl’s family chose to follow a Silvan prince to this land and renounced their rights of inheritance. In another land, I might be considered a Silvan Prince. But not here, not in this place.”