Rosa’s head jerked up, her eyes narrowing at John’s disapproving, stupidly attractive face. “Are you going to tell me again that Simon was lying, then?” she asked, her voice thin. “Are you going to keep pretending that he and the Skai are the whole problem here, rather than the army ofmenthat’s apparently camped on your doorstep?!”
John didn’t move or speak, didn’t betray a single twitch — but Rosaknewhim,knewit was true, and she gripped her hands to the chair beneath her. “Youliedto me, John,” she snapped. “You pretended as though nothing was happening with the men. You let me believe that you’ve been spending your days doing scientific research and digging tunnels, rather than planning for awar!”
John’s face still hadn’t changed, his eyes unnervingly steady on Rosa’s. “And why, woman,” he said, his voice very careful, “do you wish to know so much of this war.”
There was a pulse of sudden panic, hurtling deep and hidden inside, but thank the gods Rosa’s mouth was already speaking, rescuing her with surprising vehemence. “Because I’mtryingtotrustyou, John! I’m trying to serve you, and please you, and forget the shame, and accept myself as your” — she had to take a breath, shaky — “yourpet. And how am I supposed to do that, how am I supposed to feel safe with you, when you keeplyingto me!”
John only kept looking at her, not speaking, and Rosa bit her lip, blinking at the stone floor. “And Ihatebeing ignorant, John,” she whispered. “Ihatenot knowing things. I thought youknewthat.”
She could hear John’s heavy exhale, the slight shift of his form. And when she glanced up again, her eyes unaccountably wet, he was leaning back against the table before her, his gaze fixed unseeing on the shelf beyond.
“These men marched from Preia two days after Simon’s attack,” he said, the words very even. “It is not a full army — Duke Warmisham does not yet have the funds to rouse a full army — but two regiments. Two hundred armed men. They have set up camp at the base of the mountain, but they have not yet mounted an attack, or sought to break their way in.”
Rosa stared wide-eyed at him, her heart skipping. Two hundred men. Not yet attacked. Not yet…
“Lords Otto, Anton, and Culthen have not yet sent their own men to join them,” John’s steady voice continued. “But neither did Otto stop these regiments from crossing his lands. We know these lords — Duke Warmisham and Lord Kaspar among them — still meet in their Citadel to urge for war, and they hire yet more men to attack our trade. They spread yet more tales and treatises across the land of our great wickedness, and these travel with great speed.”
Oh. Rosa sat very straight and still in her chair, her hands now gripping together on her lap, her fingers cold and clammy. “So what are you doing in return?” she said, through her oddly dry mouth. “What comes next?”
John shrugged, his lips thinning. “We work, and we wait. We have sent many scouts, we send letters and call for councils. We file grievances at each attack upon our trade wagons. We have again forbidden any orc from stepping above ground, or meeting any man in battle. We have blocked all upper exits to our mountain. But” — he ran a hand against his hair, his eyes still glowering at the bookshelf — “the men yet stay. They wait, also.”
It felt hard to speak, suddenly, Rosa’s gaze now fixed to her hands. “And what,” she croaked out, “are they waiting for?”
The silence settled thick, oppressive, tainted — and Rosa’s quick, furtive glance upward showed John finally looking back at her, his eyes so distant, so cold. So…guarded.
“We know they seek more men,” he said, very smooth. “But we know not from where these men will come. Of these lords who push most against us, Lord Otto alone has the wealth to fund an army large enough to truly threaten us. But he has not done so. Yet.”
Something had begun rattling in Rosa’s thoughts, lunging wild and panicked for escape. They’re waiting for thepeasants, it wanted to shout. They’re waiting to spread the word of your new atrocities, and spark a publicrebellion. And surely,surelythey’ve sent these trained men here to prepare, to set up plans and supply lines, to direct and reinforce any attack when it comes…
“Thus, I wish to ask you, pet,” came John’s voice, velvety soft, setting off more clanging panic in Rosa’s skull. “Do you know aught of this? You have worked for Lord Kaspar, and shared his bed, for many years. Did he speak to you of their plans? Did he seek your help?”
Oh gods. Oh,gods. Rosa was staring at John’s face, his blank, blank face, and she felt bolted to her chair, her breath locked in her lungs. John couldn’t know. He couldn’t. He could never,everfind out.
But maybe, she realized, with a slowly creeping horror, hesuspected. And maybe — maybethatwas why he’d lied to her all this time. That was why he’d kept the war plans so secret. He didn’t trust her, and he couldn’t, nine days, hecouldn’t…
And what could she say, to an orc, who thought his pet was lying to him, spying on him, selling him out to his enemies. An orc who — Rosa couldn’t help a painful, full-body shudder — knew what she’d been reading, that day in the library. An orc she’d tried to bribe, that first day, into telling her the truth about his people…
“Lord Kaspar asked me to research you,” she blurted out, before she could stop it. “He gave me a list of sources to read. So I read them, and I thought they were total rubbish, so that’s why I tried to learn more from you at the library. That’s all. I haven’t even” — she heaved in a breath — “seen Lord Kaspar, since then.”
John was gazing at her, his eyes almost painfully intent on her face, and Rosa felt her chest hollowing, her cheeks hot and smarting. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t…
“I don’t want to see him, either,” she continued, quieter, the words sounding thankfully, abominably true. “Gods, it’s been such arelief, being away from him, all this time. Doing something — worthwhile.”
And wait, she didn’t mean that, did she? Her work in the Dusbury Library had surely been worthwhile, even if half of it had involved accommodating Lord Kaspar’s lordly urges — but Rosa’s gaze had seemed to catch, and hold, on her new book on the table. And then at her stacks of Aelakesh notes and exercises, and then — she swallowed — at the library all around her. Not significantly changed from when she’d first arrived, but the differences were still there. It was neater, cleaner, brighter. Easier to use, to appreciate, to enjoy. It had been — taken care of.
Just like she had been, something whispered, deep and forceful inside, as her stomach badly twisted and churned, her gaze fixed again to John’s watching, weighing eyes. Bearing perhaps not as much suspicion as before, but more… thoughtfulness. Deliberation.
“You now know where we stand, with this war,” he said finally. “Is there aught more you might wish to ask of me, upon this? Or tell me?”
He was offering to answer more questions, Rosa realized, blinking at his too-remote face — and he was also giving her one more chance. One more out. One more opportunity to say, Lord Kaspar’s bribed me to spy on you, and help him start this war…
But John couldn’t know. Ever. And Rosa gulped back the blockage in her throat, and made her head shake back and forth. Saying no, no, nothing, never…
And maybe she was imagining it, the faint flare of something new in John’s eyes, the added grimness on his mouth. But he nodded, once, his eyes fixing back to the shelf behind her, his arms crossing over his chest.
“Then tell me, mayhap,” he said, so smooth, “of what you have done today.”
Yes, yes,godsyes,anythingelse, and the relief spasmed in Rosa’s belly as she frantically nodded, her gaze dropping to the table. To her neat, brand-new translation of theTreatise.
