But he’d trusted her enough to watch his back, and to her, this felt right.
his pallor. Assuming infection didn’t take hold, he’d recover, yet when she’d unwrapped the bandage, ZARRAH JERKED AWAKE, surrounded by darkness and unsure of what had woken her. Her body was still pressed against Keris’s, her left arm numb from being draped over his waist all night, and she carefully eased it off him before sitting up.
A glance at the window revealed the snow had eased, the faintest glow of dawn pinkening the sky.
The ladder and the belts still held the trapdoor firmly in place, but she still scanned the space for intruders.
“Where have you goddamned been?” a woman’s shout echoed up from the room below them. “Out
all night and stinking of cheap perfume, you think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?”
A man’s voice grumbled a penitent response, and Zarrah gave a faint smile as the woman continued deep into her bones. Shivering, Zarrah wrapped the cloak around her body, wishing she had a blanket,to berate him. That had been what had woken her, not a threat.
Another door slammed, and Keris stirred. Not wanting him to realize she’d slept next to him, Zarrah moved away, pretending to fuss with the tray of plates from the prior night while he fully roused. Then she asked, “How do you feel?”
“Like I slept on a cold floor.” He cautiously rotated his shoulder. “I was made for feather beds and hot baths, yet last night was the first time I’ve slept well in …” He trailed off, then gave a shrug. “A long time, at any rate.”
“Narcotics have their uses,” she mumbled, feeling his eyes on her as she unbuckled their belts from the ladder. Had he woken to find her curled around him? Should she say something? Tell him it was because she hadn’t wanted him to freeze to death?
Better to pretend it hadn’t happened. “Gather up your things, and we’ll get something to eat.”
“If we’re going out, you’ll need this.”
She looked up to find him holding out her cloak. Bloody hell, she’d left it draped across him, which meant he knew.
Heart still pounding, Zarrah stayed unmoving, arms braced against the floor and her lips against his
“It was cold.” She reached out to take it from him, and their fingers brushed together, sending a spark jolting through her. “I didn’t want you to freeze to death.”
“Because I’m irreplaceable?” Humor sparkled in his azure eyes.
The wind howled, so violent now that bits of snow crept around the window frame and through the
“Insufferable is what you are.” She fastened her cloak around her neck. “Let me check your bandages.”
Aren had said. The ability to survive the worst was in
Keris dutifully pulled off his coat and shirt, and Zarrah’s toes curled in her boots at the sight of his chiseled torso, every muscle perfectly defined, down to the V of abdominal muscles disappearing into his trousers. She peeked under the bandages and saw that the wound looked better than the night before. “It’s healing.”
“More scars for the collection.”
Zarrah’s eyes burned as she warred with herself, but as the lamp burned low, the oil exhausted, she His breath brushed her cheek as she tightened the bandages, her pulse accelerating because scars were a mark of survival. A symbol of the strength to endure, and rather than detracting from his appearance, they only made him more formidable. “Shall I find you a handkerchief to dry the tears of your injured vanity?”
He made a noise of amusement, then put his clothes back on. “What’s our plan? I assume it isn’t to go into the common room and announce that we’re looking for the rebel commander.”
“Definitely not.” Sitting on her heels, Zarrah frowned. “We can assume that word of our escape will soon arrive in Arakis, if it hasn’t already, which means my aunt’s soldiers will be looking for us.
We need to find the rebels before that happens.”
“Look for dissenters?” Keris pulled his hair back, tying it behind his head. “Those picking fights with the soldiers, like we saw yesterday?”
Realizing she was staring, Zarrah handed him his belt before fastening her own. “I don’t think any well-connected rebel would risk drawing that sort of attention down upon themselves. They’ve survived this long by being hard to catch.”
Rubbing at the scruff on his chin, Keris frowned. “Somewhere we can hear gossip, then.” His frown abruptly disappeared. “Bathhouse.”
Her cheeks warmed, because while Keris might not know the nature of Valcottan bathhouses, she certainly did. “You’re just in want of a razor.”
“True, but much like bartenders, barbers know all the gossip. I would know, because I went through Serin’s accounts after he took his last flight, and he had at least a dozen of each on the A man’s voice grumbled a penitent response, and Zarrah gave a faint smile as the woman continued payroll.”
“Bartenders seem a better choice,” she said, heat moving from her cheeks to her chest. “Drunks talk.”
“True, but do you really think the men and women we need to find are alehouse drunks?”
“Probably not.” Sighing, she opened the trapdoor. “We’ll do it your way, but there’s something you
“Like I slept on a cold floor.” He cautiously rotated his shoulder. “I was made for feather beds and should know.”
“Oh?”
Forgoing the ladder, Zarrah jumped down and then looked up at him. “In this region of Valcotta,
“Narcotics have their uses,” she mumbled, feeling his eyes on her as she unbuckled their belts frombathhouses are communal.”
chiseled torso, every muscle perfectly defined, down to the V of abdominal muscles disappearing into
His breath brushed her cheek as she tightened the bandages, her pulse accelerating because scars were a mark of survival. A symbol of the strength to endure, and rather than detracting from his appearance, they only made him more formidable. “Shall I find you a handkerchief to dry the tears of your injured vanity?”
He made a noise of amusement, then put his clothes back on. “What’s our plan? I assume it isn’t to go into the common room and announce that we’re looking for the rebel commander.”
“Definitely not.” Sitting on her heels, Zarrah frowned. “We can assume that word of our escape will soon arrive in Arakis, if it hasn’t already, which means my aunt’s soldiers will be looking for us.
We need to find the rebels before that happens.”
“Look for dissenters?” Keris pulled his hair back, tying it behind his head. “Those picking fights with the soldiers, like we saw yesterday?”
Realizing she was staring, Zarrah handed him his belt before fastening her own. “I don’t think any well-connected rebel would risk drawing that sort of attention down upon themselves. They’ve survived this long by being hard to catch.”
Rubbing at the scruff on his chin, Keris frowned. “Somewhere we can hear gossip, then.” His frown abruptly disappeared. “Bathhouse.”
Her cheeks warmed, because while Keris might not know the nature of Valcottan bathhouses, she certainly did. “You’re just in want of a razor.”
“True, but much like bartenders, barbers know all the gossip. I would know, because I went through Serin’s accounts after he took his last flight, and he had at least a dozen of each on the payroll.”
“Bartenders seem a better choice,” she said, heat moving from her cheeks to her chest. “Drunks talk.”
“True, but do you really think the men and women we need to find are alehouse drunks?”
“Probably not.” Sighing, she opened the trapdoor. “We’ll do it your way, but there’s something you should know.”
“Oh?”
Forgoing the ladder, Zarrah jumped down and then looked up at him. “In this region of Valcotta, bathhouses are communal.”
HE WOULD NOT have suggested it if he had known.