Anik's grip on the window sill was white-knuckled, but he didn't argue. Ren sipped his water, listening to the murmur of voices coming from the front of the building. A few moments later, he heard the door open and close, and then footsteps approaching.

Rowland poked his head in through the doorway. “If you boys help me clean up in the shop, dinner is on me.”

Ren offered the butcher a pleasant smile.

* * *

If someone had told Ren two weeks ago that he would spend an otherwise lovely late summer evening mopping blood off the floors of a back-alley butcher shop while hiding from people who wanted to kill him, he'd have thought they'd had a few too many cups of wine.

Ren had never held a mop before in his life, and had no idea using one could possibly require so much finesse. Luckily, Ilias turned out to have endless amounts of patience as he taught Ren for the third time how to actually clean the floor instead of simply pushing the blood around. Together, they worked quickly, for which Ren was thankful. The sight of the blood made his stomach turn, and he wondered briefly which slave in Aleria had been tasked with removing the evidence of his family's murder from the marble floors.

“Got to really get into the corners,” Ilias said. He sat on his knees on the tiled floor and scrubbed at the panels with a wet cloth. “Otherwise the blood will start to stink something awful.”

Ren looked over his shoulder at the stretch of floor he had just finished washing. Remnants of blood clung to the cracks in the tiles. He grabbed the other cloth from the bucket and got down onto his knees. He had no idea how Ilias could kneel on the hard cold floor so effortlessly. It had taken less than a minute for Ren's knees to start aching. “Doesn't it ever feel useless working so hard to clean when it's only going to get dirty again tomorrow?” he asked over his shoulder.

Ilias made a soft sound, wringing out his cloth over the bucket. “It's my job. I don't mind.”

When Ren pushed back on his feet and returned to the bucket alongside him, Ilias lowered his head, cheeks flushed bright red. “I've never done housework with a free man before. You'll have to excuse me if I step out of line, my lord.” Ilias' voice was soft, and coupled with his flowing Lowlander accent, Ren had to strain to understand his words.

Ren had instantly taken a liking to Ilias. Ilias reminded him of the castle slaves, and of Keelan in particular. The red-headed youth was not quite as delicate as Ilias, but they moved in the same graceful fashion that spoke of a year's careful training. There was no doubt that Ilias had been trained for finer company than Rowland.