pause, yet he didn’t even mention it to her beforehand. Unquestionable obedience was one thing, not being used to her full potential was another. She would have to point this out to him when they were alone.
“What share do you want?” Parris asked.
“None. I want the bookkeeper, and I want him alive.”
The crime lord pondered it. She could sense Parris’s hesitation. They needed to offer him something to tip the scales in their favor. What could they possibly propose to him? What would a crime lord be interested in? Money, of course, but even if she could get access to her finances, she doubted money alone would make him risk his life and his people.
Her gaze paused on his face. The scar stood out against his skin like a brand. It must’ve made it difficult to look in the mirror every morning.
“How did you get your scar?” Charlotte asked.
Parris turned to her. “A gift from Voshak. I’d broken out of the cargo hold. The plan was to take a swim, but the plan failed, and Voshak had his boys hold me against the ship’s heating unit. Tried to teach me a lesson.” He flashed his teeth at her. “I’m a hard learner.”
“Would you like me to remove it?” she asked.
Parris raised his eyebrows. “You can do that?”
“Yes.” The skin was the easiest of all body tissues to heal.
Parris pondered the idea for a moment. “Thanks, but I think I’ll keep it. It’s part of me now.”
Miko leaned over to him and whispered something, her face urgent.
Jason frowned. “Yes, but you’d have to make it look old.”
Miko whispered again.
Parris considered it. “If she heals me and I get all profits from sacking the Market, you have a deal.”
“Before she does anything, she needs rest and food,” Richard said.
They were talking about her as if she weren’t even in the room.
Parris stared at him. “Do I look like a Holiday Inn to you?”
“Eight hours of uninterrupted rest behind a solid door, a fresh change of clothes, food, and clean water to wash up,” Richard said. “Those are our conditions.”
Parris sighed. “Fine. But if my face isn’t fixed by noon, you’ll be resting six feet under for a lot longer than eight hours.”
CHARLOTTE followed Richard and a woman armed with a sword up the stairs. They walked into another narrow hallway, and the woman stopped by a door and swung it open. Richard stepped inside, and Charlotte and the dog followed him into a small suite. Perfectly clean, with pale, almost golden wooden paneling on the walls and large windows framed by green curtains, the room could’ve belonged to any of the nicer hotels. A large bed dominated the floor, its linens and bedspread an inviting light yellow. Two stacks of clothes lay on the bed. To the right, another door opened to a small bathroom.
A single bed in a single room. Jason was assuming they were a couple.
The dog flopped on the rug and sniffed at the floor. Richard shut the door, locked it, and lowered a heavy wooden bar in place, securing the door as if it were an entrance to an old castle.
His skin had turned sallow. Grime stained his face. An abominable stench rose from his clothes. He had to be squeezing the last drops of energy from his exhausted body to remain upright.
“I don’t mind waiting for the bathroom,” she said.
He bowed his head slightly. “Neither do I.”
She crossed her arms.
“You agreed to follow my orders,” he said.
“The order of our bathing has nothing to do with our mission.”
“Charlotte,” he said, his voice tired. “I’m not going to shower before you.”
The sound of her name coming from him startled her. Something about the way he said it touched off the same feminine flutter she had felt when he called her beautiful. It was the strangest feeling, a mix of anxiety, surprise, and pleasure, soaked in excitement. But nothing about this made sense. She was covered in blood and dirt. Not only that, he had recently watched her kill people, then go through their pockets. Romance had to be the last thing on his mind and should have been the last on hers.
“Richard,” she said, her voice firm. “You smell awful. Please have mercy on my nose.”
“You deserve the first turn at the bathroom. Offering to fix his face was a stroke of genius.”
“Thank you, but I’m perfectly happy waiting.”
Richard stared at her. They were at an impasse.
“While I have your attention,” Charlotte said, “I’d appreciate it if in the future when you come up with a plan that makes a hardened criminal pause, you could at least give me the gist of it ahead of time. In broad strokes. While I don’t have your expertise in dealing with the criminal underground, I’m a woman of reasonable intelligence, and I react badly when surprised. I understand that you’re used to being the lone swordsman, but I promise you that I can be an asset at the planning stage and can assist you better if I know where you’re going. Use me as your, what’s the Broken expression? Sounding door?”
“Sounding board,” he said, his voice dry.
“Exactly.”
Richard’s face had a most curious expression. Two parts exasperation, one part shock, and three parts politeness so ingrained in him that it was keeping the rest of his emotions in check. “Will there be anything else, my lady?”
“Yes. It would bring me great pleasure if, when both of us are present during a conversation, you could occasionally acknowledge my presence and allow me to speak for myself instead of referring to me in the third person.”
Richard locked his jaw. She waited patiently to see if he would explode.
“The next time we have to talk to a violent psychopath, I’ll strive to keep that in mind,” he said.
“My pleasure.”
He bowed his head, managing to put enough exasperation into that bow to fuel a small ship for a voyage across the ocean. Very well. She curtsied. The effort of bending her legs nearly took her off her feet.
They straightened.
“We still have the question of the bathroom,” she said.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver doubloon. “Heads or tails.”
“Heads.” She took the coin from his palm. “And I will do the tossing.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“You told me not to trust anyone. Besides, I’m not the one with a brother who magically wins bets.”
She flipped the coin and slapped it onto the back of her wrist.
“Tails.” Richard smiled. “I win. The bathroom is all yours, my lady.”
Accusing him of cheating wasn’t just illogical, it was silly. Charlotte took her stack of clothes and walked into the bathroom. The dog followed her.
“No,” she said firmly, and shut the door. A disappointed whine answered her.
Inside an Adrianglian-style drencher shower waited for her: a wide showerhead positioned directly above, over her head. Charlotte turned the handle and warm water cascaded down in a welcome waterfall. Charlotte stripped and stepped under the flow.
The water splashed over her in a cleansing stream. Her legs buckled a little. Her muscles ached all over, and the shower did nothing to wash the encroaching drowsiness from her. Charlotte washed her hair with detached thoroughness. It felt like someone else was driving her body. If she didn’t hurry, she would collapse before she reached the bed. She washed all the dirt off, wrapped a towel over her hair, dried herself with the larger towel, and picked up the first garment from the stack of clothes.
RICHARD heard a muffled word from the bathroom. His body was giving out from fatigue, and the bathroom door was relatively thick, but he was absolutely sure that Charlotte de Ney had just called someone a prick.
