She wriggles against me, stretching her spine. “No nightmares, so that was amazing. What about you?”
I know, beyond the privacy sheet on the bars, François de Vaux is undoubtedly taking every word we say, but I don’t exaggerate for his sake, I just tell it like it is.
“I’ve never had a happier night’s sleep in my life.”
She smirks. “Me too.” Then her smile drops. “But I’ve got to pee.”
“No problem, babe. I’ve suddenly got a great desire to look at the wall and whistle a tune.”
At my response, she nuzzles her head against my chest for a moment, then unravels her body from mine. I know how desperately she’s missed personal privacy, so this is a small gift I can give her.
Apart from the fact my dry lips won’t produce a single whistling note on command. Fuck. OK, singing it is. I rack my brains for a song I know the lyrics to and come up with precisely one.
I guess the princess is going to get a quick lesson in Ashgrave civics.
After clearing my throat, I start the low, droning notes.
Deep in the throat of the black-iron hill,
Where the air is thick and the lungs are still,
We dig for the vein, we bleed for the spark,
To pull the white fire right out of the dark.
From the soot of the pit to the heat of the floor,
We drag the Anther through the factory door.
“What the fuck is that?” she laughs, flushing and then washing her hands at the faucet.
Instead of answering I go into the chorus.
Swing the hammer, stoke the flame,
Ashgrave’s sweat is the world’s great name!
With a steady hand and a heavy mass,
We’re blowing the light into Anther Glass.
Let the lords have their gold and their velvet skin,
We’ve the fire without and the iron within!
Shaking out her hands, Rory sits back down on the cot. “Well? Are you going to explain?”
“It’s the Ashgrave Anthem, from back when this place was the seat of Havengard industry. Catchy, right?” Actually, I think the song is so fucking poignant, especially as my father was crippled in an Anther mining accident. And even more ironic is the fact every kid learned this anthem growing up, even after the south had taken away all of Ashgrave’s industry, having found cheaper supplies out in the wider world.
“I don’t even know anything about Ashgrave and Anther glass,” Rory says, reaching up a hand and touching my face for the barest second. “Seeing as I plan to make my home up here, I should start learning the history!”
Huh? “You plan to what?”
She doesn’t get to answer. François tears down the privacy curtain. “Aurora. Shower.”
Rory shrugs at me then casts a glance over her shoulder. “I’m fine, Frank. I’m a Gravedigger. We don’t need daily showers.”
Fuck, her cheek is making my cock fill, and that’s not a good idea in these confined quarters. “I’ll take one, Frank,” I say, standing up. “If you’re offering."
