I shrugged with my whole body, arms flying up with my shoulders.
The Captain closed his eyes, swore beneath his breath.
“Fucking Fischer.”
Even without context, my teeth curled back from my lips at the mere mention.Fucking Fischerindeed. He had been makinga nuisance of himself, prowling around Sorcha with such subtlety that there was no solid complaint for me to bring to his Captain. I had, however, threatened to poison his ale twice already. He’d continued to drink it in excess.
When the Captain opened his eyes, the hesitant look he shot me was entirely unfamiliar. Gone was the intensity, the cockiness. He raked a hand through his hair, and I noticed for the first time just how exhausted he looked. His green eyes were glassy and ringed with dark circles, the black beard far thicker and more unruly than I’d seen it so far.
“Look, it’s ah– the thing is–fuck. This is Fischer’s fucking job.” He was stammering, tripping over the words that normally rolled like velvet in that distinctly Northern brogue. I crossed my arms, waiting, and he nodded grimly. “Alright. Fischer is my deputy.”
I shrugged again. “And?”
“And–” He blew out a breath, licked his lips. Was henervous?“We’ve had to spread the hunt into round-the-clock shifts, with two platoons. Mine, by day. Fischer’s, by night.”
I stared in disbelief. The Captain hurried on.
“He was told to inform you–”
I held up a hand. “You’ve inviteddoublethe soldiers to my inn.”
He nodded, slow and tense. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was as wary of my reaction as I was of his general presence.
Good.He should be. My disbelief simmered slowly and began to fume.
“No.”
“Rosaleen–” He groaned, pinched at the bridge of his nose.
“No. Absolutely not, this is not what I agreed to!”
“I’m sorry,” he said, the words strained through his teeth. “It’s done.”
“Then un-fucking-do it!”
Even with my Flame locked down, my skin crawled with heat. Exhaustion had worn me down and my anger boiled overtoo easily, steaming and spilling, any tenuous hold on my own emotions burned away until there was nothing stopping me fromshriekingat this man. A man I had no business shrieking at. A man who hunted monsters. Whose King drove so many of my kin into hiding, whose brothers-in-arms had struck such fear into my own brother’s heart that he abandoned all he’d ever known.
Who now lived in my home and watched me far too closely.
We stared at each other, neither of us moving but for the rapid rise and fall of my chest with every heaving breath.
Until the boy, forgotten by the window up to now, edged into view. Nicholas started when my eyes fell on him, and gave a weak, flickering smile. He glanced nervously between me and his Captain.
“I’ll just, er —”
“Go meet the lads downstairs, Nick. Buy a round, on me.”
He gave an audible sigh of relief, and as I watched him sidle out the door I was entirely aware that the Captain’s eyes remained fixed on me. Only when the boy’s rapid footfall faded down the hallway did I meet his gaze again. Unreadable as ever, but unwavering, steeled for whatever it was he wanted to say, whatever excuse —
“I’m sorry, Rosie.”
Sorry?
Surprise gripped me so hard I forgot to correct him. For a moment, the earnesty of his apology threw me off. But when he said nothing more, the irritation began to creep back in. What good didsorrydo me?
I crossed my arms.
“Sorry doesn’t grow me an extra pair of hands, Captain.”
