Lord Carrull looked at Sober. "And what's your story? You ran away from Mistress Merricc to save Repentance? Is that what she'll tell the troopers when they look at her farm and dig into her affairs?"
"I planned to be back before anyone came looking. I promised to go back and run the farm for her as soon as I got Repentance to Montphilo."
Lord Carrull smiled. "An incredible woman, that."
"What now?" Repentance looked at Sober. "The prince is liable to wipe out all of Hot Springs and the farm as well."
"Not if we can get him locked up, first," Lord Carrull said. "I'll see the king the first thing in the morning."
"Will he believe you?" Sober asked. "How well do you know him?"
"He will believe enough to arrest the prince and hold him over for trial, I hope. I'm an overlord. If I bring a charge, it will carry more weight than if a slave brings it. And there's always Tigen. The prince's own son knows his father had a slave hidden in the barn." He nodded. "I think we can convince—"
Behind them the door burst open with force, causing all three to turn and look.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Lord," Compassion said, breathlessly, "but Starved says a skein of troopers are going door to door. Someone, it seems, reported seeing two runaway slaves fleeing in this neighborhood."
Love, when it came, crashed into me with the churning force of a waterfall. It turned me upside down, shook me all around, and left me standing, dripping and shaking, on the riverbank, not knowing which way was home.
~Repentance Atwater, Mountain Journal
Chapter 31
The knocker sounded on the front door. "Open up. Business of the king," a trooper shouted.
A male slave joined Compassion in the doorway of the great room, fear in his eyes.
"Take your dishes and follow Starved," Lord Carrull said. Turning to Compassion he added, "Stall as long as you can, then show them in to me here."
Repentance and Sober followed Starved up six stories. He was a young man, not much older than Sober, and he moved quickly.
At the top, the stairs opened up on a great room. As they raced across the room, Repentance registered bookshelves interspersed with maps, and portraits carved into the walls.
Cushioned chairs and settees were clustered around tables made of shiny, dark wood. They held suncloth lanterns.
"Quickly," Starved said, never slowing. He reached a painting on the far wall, a man with a bow facing a dragon, the beast stood, hunched over the man, fire issuing from its mouth. Starved took a knife from his belt and tapped the dragon's eye with the handle. The painted body slid back and to the side, leaving a dragon-shaped hole in the wall. Repentance gasped. Sober steadied her with a hand on her elbow. Starved stepped aside and directed Repentance and Sober to duck through the hole in the wall.
"Stay here until I come for you," he said. "Stay quiet." He reached up and tapped another spot on the wall and the dragon slid over and forward and snapped back into place, leaving not a sliver of light at the seams.
Repentance and Sober stood for a minute staring at the wall. On this side it had the same picture—only this one was facing the opposite direction, like an image in a reflecting rock. Repentance strained to hear any sound coming from the other side. Nothing. She shivered and turned away.
They were in a narrow, windowless room. By the dim light thrown from two small suncloths she saw a settee with two ice-block tables on either end. The tables were covered with lavacloth and strewn on top of them were books. On the opposite side of the room was a door. She crossed over and pushed it open. A relief room with one waste stool and one sink. They were in a hiding place. Not meant to be lived in for long periods, obviously, and not overly comfortable.
She flopped down at one end of the settee, prepared to wait. She tapped her foot, letting off nervous energy. She felt trapped. Surely Lord Carrull would keep them safe. Probably hundreds of slaves had hidden in this very room. And they'd all been let out. Set free.
Sober picked up a book and sat down on the other end of the settee.
Repentance studied his profile. His book was tilted toward the suncloth, his face angled away from her slightly. She was surprised by the depth of emotion that rose in her chest. Sober Marsh was, without a doubt, the handsomest man she'd ever met. She'd known he was handsome, she'd agreed with Generosity on that count. But she had never considered that there was no man handsomer.
Anywhere.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. Now was not the time to be thinking about Sober's dark eyes and broad shoulders. His smile—"So, you saw Comfort before you came to rescue me? How is she?" Her voice shattered the stillness, sounding harsh and demanding and overly loud.
He looked over at her, a pained expression on his face. "Be quiet," he whispered.
A hot flush burned her cheeks.
He must have noticed, because he scooted next to her and whispered in her ear, "They are all fine, trust me. I'll tell you later, when we can speak safely."
He didn't move away from her. Her ear burned where his breath had brushed over it, and her thigh felt warm where his bumped up against hers.
She felt as if the room was getting smaller, making it hard
