I came here, but I could have sworn he said it was mythology.”
“Bah. Where do you think the myths come from?” Aaron snorted, tossing aside the plans. “I want my things back, and you can just steal them for me.”
“I’m not a thief.”
“If you don’t get them back”—Aaron’s voice turned sly—“you’ll spend the rest of your not inconsiderable days in my dungeon. As for you—”
He turned to Gwen. She looked startled. “You said you didn’t need an alchemist.”
“I don’t, but my soldiers at the front inform me that you’re one of Ethan’s warriors who wanted out of his service. I will grant you a place with my contingent.”
Gwen looked like she was going to protest, but evidently she thought better of it, because she just looked thoughtful for a few seconds before saying something that took Gregory by surprise. “All right.”
“You can’t be serious,” Gregory said.
“Why can’t I? I’d rather be a warrior than be stuck in a dungeon.”
She had a point, damn it. He considered stealing enough time to keep them from being captured in the first place, but knew that down that path lay only grief and sorrow.
“Very well. Since Gwen doesn’t mind being forced into a role that isn’t by nature hers—”
“Hey! I could be a warrior if I wanted to!”
“—then I will do likewise. I accept your offer of an exchange for our freedom if I return to you the three items stolen.”
Aaron made a notation in a leather journal. “I don’t believe I made any mention about granting you freedom.”
“Then mention it now. Those are our terms,” Gregory said firmly. He put his arm around Gwen again in order to give her support, but mostly because he just liked the feel of her tucked up next to him. “They are not negotiable.”
Her frown was potent, but she didn’t object to the fact that he spoke for her.
Aaron’s face was stormy for a few seconds, then cleared up as he shrugged. “Very well. You will have your freedom once you return what was stolen from me and the other one has served the span of a moon in my army.”
“Two days,” Gwen countered. “I’ll be a soldier for two days.”
“A fortnight,” Aaron countered.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “A week. That’s my final offer.”
“Done. You may go to the stables and tell the grooms to give you a horse. You may leave immediately.”
He returned to making notes in his notebook, clearly dismissing them from his thoughts.
Gregory didn’t stay to argue; with a slight pressure on Gwen’s waist, he started back up the hill to the castle with her.
“One thing . . .”
They stopped as Aaron’s voice, suspiciously silky, reached them. They turned together to look back.
The king’s gaze was filled with portent. “The mortals have a saying. Perhaps you’ve heard it?
“I don’t speak Welsh,” Gregory said.
“I do.” Gwen hesitated, then translated, “Long is the day and long is the night, and long is the waiting of Arawn.”
“The mortals think that refers to the events of the past, but really, it touches on the fact that I always, no matter how long it takes, have my revenge for a betrayal.” Aaron smiled. “Something to remember, yes?”
EIGHT
“Have you ever wanted to take a vacation from your own life?” I asked Gregory as we walked up the hill to the upper bailey.
“I can’t say that I have.”
“Count yourself lucky.” I couldn’t help but sigh as another orange-coated tour guide herded a group of what looked like Catholic schoolgirls, complete with matching uniforms and attendant nuns in full traditional garb, past us. Faint echoes of “The brewery is renowned for its popular From Hell Ale, made with honey gleaned from Anwyn’s happy little bees. We’ll have a sampling right after we visit the armory, where the blood-encrusted weapons of Anwyn’s brutal past are on display” followed us.
The schoolgirls cheered. The nuns murmured happily about the ale.
I wanted to alternately sit down and weep and run screaming away from the castle.
“Are you allowing that talk of execution to distress you,
“It’s Romanian for ‘my sweet.’ And before you say it—and yes, I know you were about to—I used the endearment because your kisses were very, very sweet.”
“Kiss,” I said, jerking my hand away from his. I didn’t even remember holding his hand! What on earth was going on that I could hold a man’s hand without consciously thinking about it? “We had one kiss. Just one.”
“And it was a superb one.”
It most certainly was. Just the memory of his mouth made me feel restless, like I wanted to run a marathon, or rip his clothing off. With an emphasis on the latter. “That was an error of judgment on my part. I should never have kissed you. I can only guess that I was feeling guilty about you having been beaten up and wanted to make sure that your mouth still worked.”
He laughed. “Do you really believe that explanation?”
“No,” I said miserably, and was startled to find that I was holding his hand again. His thumb rubbed against mine in a manner that was both reassuring, and arousing. Damn my libido! I firmly turned my thoughts from those concerning a naked, warm Gregory rubbing other parts of himself on me and focused on the fix we were in. “How are you going to steal a dog, a deer, and a bird from Ethan?”
“I have no idea.” He looked amused at the change of subject, but didn’t challenge me. “I’ve never had to steal anything before.”
“Except time.”
His fingers tightened on mine. “I believe I’ve mentioned already that we don’t steal time—we purchase it.”
“Without the people’s knowledge that you’re doing so. How on earth does the Watch let you get away with that?”
“They don’t. So far as mortals are concerned, that is. We may barter or outright purchase time from immortal beings, of course, but many people are touchy where the sale of their time is concerned, and few are willing to do so.”
“So what do you do in such cases?”
He shrugged. “I’m in the process of trying to find a person who is willing to sell time to me. My cousin has someone to provide time for himself and his wife, so I hope to arrange for the same accommodation.”
“Maybe your wife won’t want you to buy time for her,” I said loftily.
“That is a possibility, although marriage outside of the Traveller society is frowned upon.”
“No, I meant that perhaps she wouldn’t want you doing the he-man for her. Wait . . .” I stopped and squinted up at him. He had an inscrutable air that I didn’t buy for one moment. “Are you saying that you can only hook up with another Traveller?”
“‘Hook up with’ as in engage in a sexual relationship?” His thumb swept the back of my knuckles. “No, that is allowed. Marriage, however, is a different matter. To marry one who is mahrime—an outsider—is a grave sin to Traveller families.”
I stared at him. “Talk about insulting! You are joking, right? No one could be so ass backward in this day and age. Especially considering the double standard of it’s all right to milk the cow, but not to buy it. That alone makes
