“I’m sorry?”

She stopped them before they took their first step and looked up at him.

He looked down at her.

“You had every right to be angry, to lose your temper and rail at me. This time, Aramus, you had every right. So, my darling, thank you. Thank you for not shouting down the castle when you had cause and thank you for understanding why I did something hurtful and foolish. And last, thank you for loving me the way that you love me.”

In that moment, he did not want to check to see if Dora was sleeping soundly, and if not, show himself to her so she knew he was safe.

He wanted to throw his wife over his shoulder and carry her to their bedchamber.

But he needed sweet Dora to rest easy.

Therefore, instead, he simply bent his head, pulled his wife again into his arms, and he kissed her.

Thoroughly.

When he pulled away, and he knew she was of a mind she would not be averse to him throwing her over his shoulder and taking her to their chamber, he grinned at her and took her to check on Dora.

And then, he took her to their chamber.

96

The Crew

Princess Serena

The Shanty, Notting Thicket

WODELL

Princess Serena, who had not bathed in days, and was wearing the rags of a dead woman, lolled in the crumbling doorway of a building that used to be a home, but time and neglect meant there was no door and beyond there was no roof.

She had a large, heavy, chipped jug of grog on the step before her, a ragged blanket pulled over her head, and her shaded eyes aimed across the alley.

There slouched a troll, a big one. She had not seen many in her lifetime, but of the ones she’d seen, this one was large.

He had a vague blueish-green tint to his skin, much of which was on display since he only wore breeches, boots and forearm shields.

He also had a mass of filthy black hair on his head, matted into ropes.

He further had a pronounced underbite, to the point his lower teeth were exposed, and that lower set, unlike the upper ones, had large fangs.

All his teeth were yellowed with inattention.

She worried this mission would last so long, without cleaning it, her hair would get the way of the troll’s, and she’d have to have it all shorn off.

She then stopped worrying about that, for she could be bald. Scarred. Skin and bones. Hairless, sunken and weak.

And there would be no one to care.

Perhaps, her mother.

Perhaps, her lieutenants.

Perhaps, Silence and Ha-Lah, who, in the short time they remained before being off to the realms they essentially helped rule due to the men who doted on them, she had taught a few hand-to-hand defensive moves and some minimal skills with how to use a dagger. And both had been kind to her.