That morning, a bull had been killed in the pits. It meant that in the evening, there would be better meat in her stew. She wondered if she could sneak into the dungeons and bring a bowl to Gunnar. As she walked along the hall and toward the building that housed the pit fighters, she memorized each place where she might hide, each cast of shadow or pile of straw. She thought she might be able to get down there if she was careful and planned ahead.
There were two guards at the door, but she knew they drank in the evenings, and often passed out from taking too much. She noted the bundles by their seats, provisions for a boring day, food and wine. Hessa nodded when she walked past. They said nothing for she was no one of concern to them.
She hurried along the line of imprisoned men, passing food into their hands. Soon after, the water girl followed to portion out the men’s drink. Hessa could hardly breathe by the time she reached the steps. She took them slowly, waiting for a sound, the familiar grunt that meant he was watching her approach from his cell. She squinted at the pale shaft of light spilling down from the window high above. Her heart skipped inside her chest.
Gunnar was seated in the corner of his cell, his head bowed and pressed into his hands.
Hessa edged to the cells and passed out the food. She soon returned to Gunnar’s. “Are you unwell?” she asked.
He lifted his face. His eyes lit with joy. “Hessa. Is it time again for you to be here?”
She nodded and held out his apportioned food. He rose and came to her, taking the bread and cheese, only to set them aside.
“I dreamed of you.”
“Of me? What did you dream?” She closed the bag and set it beside her.
“We were on the sea in my ship. The wind was strong, pushing your hair back from your face, and you smiled when I sang to you. I was taking you to Chalois.”
“That is a good dream.” She closed her eyes when he reached through the bars to caress her cheek. His rough fingers ran along her face, tracing her lips, her chin, then tickling down her throat to her chest. He circled her nipple, but not like before. This time, he tarried there only a small time before his fingers shimmied to the hem of her skirt. He slipped his hand down inside, tugging her against the bars.
With her body pressed so tight to the cool metal, she felt what it must be like to be imprisoned. His lips brushed hers in a teasing kiss. “Will you come to me? Will you be the one the guards bring to me?”
She sucked in a breath and kissed back. His lips warmed hers. Heat spread through her body. Her nerves fired off and sent a ripple of tingles through her which settled in her middle. She moaned when his mouth opened, and his tongue darted out to taste her. The wet heat slid over her lower lip, her upper. He pushed inside, and she raised her chin and allowed him entry. Below, his fingers curled at her mound, stroking her with slow, measured movements. Her legs went weak, and she started to shiver.
When she had trouble catching her breath, he lifted his mouth from hers. “Have you ever been with a man?”
“Never.”
“Do you want to be with me?”
The water bearer came down the steps, her footfalls interrupting them. Hessa stepped back from the cell, gathered up her bag, and tried to look innocent.
“Do you?” Gunnar pressed.
She nodded.
His expression became solemn. “At sea I have seen great creatures that travel through the waves. They are often alone, but they find each other. Somehow, despite the vastness of the oceans, they find each other and become mates.” Gunnar smiled. He fetched the bowl for the water bearer and waited as she meted out his portion. After the server left him, he spoke. “I feel that way now, that I have been searching, swimming through the darkness. The day you descended the stairs of this prison, I knew.”
She looked down at her feet. “You knew,” she repeated. “But you do not truly know me.”
“I want to know you. I have waited through my capture, the long travel to come to this place. I have survived the fighting pits, great beasts from the Gods alone know where that have been sent against me, men from other villages with powers strange to me. Swords, daggers, axes, none have defeated me there. I waited for my one reason for being to come to me. I prayed for it. Then you appeared at the steps to bring me food. I knew then, Hessa.”
“I am but a servant, born into this horrible place, destined to work here until the day I die.”
He touched her face, running his fingers over the scars on her cheek. “You are what you wish to be. If you wish to be more than this, you will be. All you must do is believe that anything is possible. And when the chance to become what you desire is offered, you must take it, no matter the cost.”
“I wish to be with you,” she said, her voice low. “I wish to have you hold me each night, and for you to take me away from here-to your island, your world. A place I can’t really grasp because it seems to be all a fantasy.”
He leaned his forehead against the bars and blew out a sigh. “It would seem that…and it is. Water bluer than the sky that stretches across the horizon. The slap of sails above and the crash of waves below. From there we can go anywhere.”
She shook her head, imagining such a place. “How can I free you? I see no way to do it.”
He closed his eyes, frowning. “You must find a way.”
She took her leave, toting her empty provision bag out. When she left the building, the guards stared at her before moving on to their drinks. The wind was whipping through the streets, gathering clouds higher above. She listened and heard Gunnar’s voice trailing through the air, caressing her face and tickling her skin. He was tied to the wind-an elementalist of sorts. Rare indeed and very valuable to the Omi masters.
“How goes your work this evening?” A man’s voice asked from beside her.
She turned to see the cell keeper again, his face rosy from drinking, his hair combed back neatly. “All went well.”
He nodded and gripped his chin, rubbing as he thought. “I wonder, would you like to accompany me to the tavern this evening? I’ll buy you a meal and a drink.”
She took a step back, fearful of what else he might want from her. “I should get to my room. I have work to do.”
The cell keeper frowned. He looked away from her, his small eyes searching the darkness growing in the sky. “I’m sorry to hear that then.” He sighed and started away from her toward the road that led to the tavern. The keys at his belt jingled with every step he took.
“I only want the company.” He stopped and faced her, his eyes sad. “Nothing more. I swear it on the grave of my late wife.” He held out his arm to her. She slipped her hand through and let him lead her away. No one had ever paid much attention to her, not like this anyways. “My name’s Kadley. Friends call me Kad.”
“I’m Hessa.” She smiled up at him.
He looked away, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “We can sit in the back room. It’s quieter there.”
She’d never been in that part of the tavern. They entered the building to the raucous greetings of surly men who’d been drinking for some time. Those of the assassin’s guilds sat near the bar, most wearing garb that shadowed their features. Hessa tried not to look at them. She didn’t want their kind of attention. Whores danced across a rickety stage at the other side of the room, their garb vibrant and eye-catching. Coins bounced at their feet, offered up from the appreciative men seated before the show. Hessa wanted to watch, but Kadley kept moving, bypassing it all as if it meant nothing to him.
He took her into a dimly lit back room with few patrons seated about. A fire burned in a large hearth, heating the space. This was more a place to eat than to drink and be merry. They sat by the fire at a small table, and a serving girl attended them. Soon bread, stew, and cheese were laid out, as well as a decanter of wine. The cell keeper poured out the glasses of wine and sat back in his seat, sipping between words.
“Do you have a man you fancy, Hessa?”
Her wine went down the wrong way, causing her to cough. When she recovered, she shook her head, no. It was the safest answer.
