Two days later the noble had been found dead. His body hung in the center of Gentry Square. City authorities had closed Medford House and arrested the prostitutes. They had been told to identify the killer or face execution themselves. To everyone’s surprise, the women spent only one night in jail. The next day Medford House had reopened and the sheriff of Medford personally delivered a public apology for their arrest, adding that swift punishment would follow any future abuse of the women, regardless of rank. From then on, Medford House prospered under unprecedented protection. Royce had never spoken of the incident, and Gwen never asked, but he was certain she knew—just as she had known about his heritage before he had told her.
When he had returned from Avempartha the previous summer, he had decided to reveal his secret to her, to be completely open and honest. Royce had never told anyone about being an elf, not even Hadrian. He expected that she would hate him, either for being a miserable mir or for deceiving her. He had taken Gwen for a walk down the bank of the Galewyr, away from people to lessen the embarrassment of her outrage. He had braced himself, said the words, and waited for her to hit him. He had decided to let her. She could scratch his eyes out if she wanted. He owed her at least that much.
“Of course you’re elven,” she had said while touching his hand kindly. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”
How she had known, she never explained. He had been so overwhelmed with joy to bother asking. Gwen just had a way of always knowing his heart.
“What is it?” she asked again now.
“Why haven’t you packed?”
Gwen paused and smiled. That was her way of letting him know he would not get away with it. “Because there is no need. The imperial army isn’t attacking us.”
Royce raised an eyebrow. “The king himself has his things packed and his horse at the ready to evacuate the city on a moment’s notice, but you know better?”
She nodded.
“And how is that?”
“If there was the slightest chance that Medford was in danger, you wouldn’t be here asking me why I haven’t packed. I’d be on Mouse’s back holding on for dear life as you spurred her into a run.”
“Still,” he said, “I’d feel better if you moved to the monastery.”
“I can’t leave my girls.”
“Take them with you. Myron has plenty of room.”
“You want me to take whores to live in a monastery with monks?”
“I want you to be safe. Besides, Magnus and Albert are there too, and I can guarantee you they’re not monks.”
“I’ll consider it.” She smiled at him. “But you’re leaving on another mission, so it can wait until you get back.”
“How do you know these things?” he asked, amazed. “Alric ought to hire you instead of us.”
“I’m from Calis. It’s in our blood,” she told him with a wink. “When do you leave?”
“Soon … tonight, perhaps. I left Hadrian at The Rose and Thorn to watch for a messenger.”
“Have you decided to tell Hadrian yet?”
He looked away.
“Oh, so that’s it. Don’t you think you should?”
“No, just because a lunatic wizard—” He paused. “Listen, if I tell him what I saw, his reason will disappear. If Hadrian were a moth, he’d fly into every flame he could find. He’ll sacrifice himself if necessary, and for what? Even if it’s true, all that stuff with the heir happened centuries ago and has nothing to do with him. There’s no reason to think that Esrahaddon wasn’t just—Wizards toy with people, okay? It’s what they do. He tells me to keep quiet, makes a big stink about how I have to take this secret to my grave. But you know damn well he expects me to tell Hadrian. I don’t like being used, and I won’t let Hadrian get himself killed at the whim of some wizard’s agenda.”
Gwen said nothing but looked at him with a knowing smile.
“What?”
“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself and you’re not doing very well. I think it might help if you consider you’re one kind of person and Hadrian is another. You are trying to look out for him, but you’re using cat’s eyes.”
“I’m doing what?”
Puzzled for a moment, Gwen looked at Royce, then chuckled quietly. “Oh, I suppose that must be a common saying only in Calis. Okay, let’s say you’re a cat and Hadrian’s a dog and you want to make him happy. You give him a dead mouse and are surprised when he isn’t thrilled. The problem is that you need to see the world through the eyes of a dog to understand what’s best for him. If you did, you would see that a nice juicy bone would be a better choice, even though to a cat it’s not very appealing.”
“So you think I should let Hadrian go off and get himself killed?”
“I’m saying that for Hadrian, maybe fighting—even dying—for something or someone is the same as a bone is to a dog. Besides, you have to ask yourself, is keeping quiet really for his sake—or yours?”
“First daggers, now dogs and cats,” Royce muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He let his hands run through her hair. “How did you get so wise?”
“Wise?” She looked at him and laughed. “I’m a thirty-four-year-old prostitute in love with a professional criminal. How wise can I possibly be?”