Olivier looked over their shoulders to where Froi knew De Lancey’s guard was standing watch.
‘We do what you and I and Satch and Tariq set out to do in the Citavita, Grij,’ Olivier said. ‘We save Quintana.’ His eyes caught Froi’s and he winked. ‘We give her a chance to unleash herself onto the world.’
Froi stared at him.
‘When?’
‘This is going too fast, lads,’ Grijio said.
‘Not fast enough,’ Olivier responded. ‘Yesterday they met. Today betrothed. Tomorrow she’ll be gone and we will not be able to protect her.’
‘Maybe Avanosh is the safest place for her,’ Grijio said, regret in his voice.
Froi would never believe that to be true.
‘Maybe,’ Olivier said. ‘But maybe they’re under orders from Sorel and one day we will be part of that heinous kingdom of prison mines and slavery.’
Froi was on his feet. He could hardly breathe at the thought of his son and Quintana in Sorel with no one to protect them. Olivier grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him back down.
‘You can take Quintana through one of the caves that lead up to the central hills,’ Olivier whispered. ‘I can lead you, Froi. I know the way.’
‘Then I’ll come to,’ Grijio said.
‘No, you need to stay here, Grij,’ Olivier insisted. ‘To give them false leads. They need to think we’ve travelled south or east.’
‘Just say …’ Grijio began, looking at Froi cautiously.
‘Just say what?’ Froi demanded.
‘Just say Quintana may not believe she needs saving?’ Grijio said. ‘I saw her with Feliciano today and she seemed charmed, alarmingly so.’
Froi had noticed too. Quintana was a tamer person in the presence of the Avanosh lot.
Olivier sat up straight and suddenly a grin appeared on his face.
‘We’ll speak of this again later,’ he said. ‘The women are approaching.’
A moment later Froi felt a hand run through his hair and then he saw a pretty face and lips painted red.
‘This one is mine,’ she said, pulling him to his feet. He looked into her eyes, warm and laughing eyes, but not those he wanted to be looking into. Not the face. Not the body with the round belly and strange scars. Not Quintana.
‘I’m bonded to two women,’ he blurted out because it was the ale speaking and Froi was coming to realise that he was very stupid under the influence of ale.
‘Well, aren’t we the intriguing one?’ she whispered in his ear.
Back in Quintana’s room he saw the empty bed for the second night in a row. He stared at it a moment, fury clenching his hands. He locked her door, wanting to throw away the key to stop himself from tearing through De Lancey’s compound and finding that idiot from Avanosh. He didn’t want to count to ten and remember his bond. He wanted to feel the anger, and with every image that came to his head, Froi’s rage grew and grew.
Later he heard the doorknob rattle and he grabbed his dagger and leapt to his feet. But whoever it was knocked and he opened the door to see Quintana standing in the hallway, dressed in her nightgown, trying to peer over his shoulder. He stepped in front to block her way.
‘What are you looking for?’ he asked coldly.
‘Who are you hiding back there?’ she asked, trying to push past him until he felt the pounding of her heart against his own chest and the sound of her breathing against his ear.
‘What makes you think I’m hiding anyone?’
And when he saw her mouth curl into a snarl, his blood began to beat into a frenzy of excitement and he matched her heartbeat, breath by breath. She stepped to his side, trying to get into the room and he blocked her again and again and again, until she clenched her fists and pounded his shoulder.
Suddenly Olivier and Grijio and Lirah and Tippideaux appeared in the hallway.
‘Answer me,’ she shouted.
‘Answer me!’
‘You’re drunk!’
‘Did you let him touch you?’
Quintana cried with fury. ‘You dare to accuse me of such a thing when you come back to my room with the smell of a woman on your stinking body.’
She threw herself at him and it took both Olivier and Grijio to hold her back.
Froi snarled and clenched his fist.
‘Do it. Do it!’ she cried, until Lirah came between them, grabbing both their hands.
‘Enough,’ Lirah said calmly and she held them both to her. Quintana was sobbing, ‘I don’t understand this, Lirah. I don’t understand,’ and Froi wanted to sob the same words.
‘Because matters of the heart are not there to be understood, brave girl,’ Lirah said, as Tippideaux led them away, fussing like a mother hen.
The lads stared towards where the women disappeared and then exchanged looks.
‘I must say I found that … quite exciting,’ Olivier said.
Grijio nodded. ‘Feel my pulse.’
Later, Froi lay in his cot on the ground, hating her. Hating. First opportunity he got, he wasn’t going to take her through the cave with Olivier. He was going to go on his own and travel back to Lumatere and he was going to ask for a Flatland girl’s hand in marriage and live on a pocket of land for the rest of his life and never leave Lumatere again. No. A river girl. He’d marry a river girl because they were wilder, but still not savage one moment and ice cold and vicious the next.
He heard a sound at his door and sat up and he saw her there in the shadows, holding a candle and staring down at him.
‘I took no woman,’ he said, forgetting every vow he had just made never to speak to her again. ‘Allowed no woman to touch me.’
‘The guard said the women were like flies on you all.’
‘But I was thinking of another and I couldn’t bear their touch.’
And he saw it in her eyes. Still. The belief that there could be someone other than herself. You, he wanted to shout. You. No one but you.
And when she didn’t leave his door, Froi pulled back the blankets and shuffled over to the wall. He held out a hand and he saw in her expression that she wrestled with the savage inside of her, but Froi’s hand stayed outstretched. She would never trust easily. Never. But he would make it his bond to ensure that one day she would trust him without hesitation.
And then she was laying there beside him.
‘My feet were cold in their part of the compound,’ she muttered.
‘Well, we can’t have that, can we?’ he said, warming them against his and tucking the blanket over her body.
‘I heard the Avanosh aunt say, “She should grow her hair to hide that pointy chin and pointy nose.” ’
‘If I see that pointy chin and nose hidden, I’ll have to hurt someone.’
‘You’re supposed to say I don’t have a pointy chin or pointy nose,’ she said, somewhat dryly.
‘But you do,’ he said. ‘And you also have pointy eyes,’ he added, as he kissed both lids, ‘and a pointy mouth,’ he teased, pressing his lips against hers, ‘and a pointy tongue.’ His body covered hers as he held her face in his hands and captured her mouth, the silk warmness of her tongue matching his, stroke by stroke. Then he felt the sharp nip of her teeth as his mouth dared to leave hers, travelling towards her throat, fleetingly tracing the scars from the noose. ‘And a pointy, pointy heart,’ he murmured, feeling the powerful beat that her enemies had tried to crush from the moment she was born. One hand cupped her breast as his other hand lifted the folds of her nightdress and drew her closer.
‘Does the Queen of Lumatere have all those things?’ she asked, quietly.
