Page 4 of Wanted: Rogues and Bards

Fenric couldn’t remember ever seeing a bigger, sadder puppy in all his days.

The young man sucked in great gulps of air as if he’d been nearly suffocated. In the time it had taken Fenric to break him out, some of the storm clouds had broken apart enough to let through slivers of moonlight that now touched tear-streaked, sallow cheeks. He tipped his sweet, filthy face up to the sky and let out a ragged cry, half laugh and half sob.

The boy couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen. He had fresh adult written all over him. Plainly dressed on the surface, he wore a white shirt with long, billowing sleeves and dark pants, which were tucked into knee-high boots. All of his clothes were clearly of fine quality—the silk shirt alone would fetch a high price—but they were torn and filthy, as if someone had dragged him along behind a cart before tossing him into the grave.

He could pass for a merchant’s child or a nobleman’s brat or something. Definitely from a family of means.

His hair was a matted mess on the top of his head, but it looked as if he possessed golden-brown curls that, when properly cared for, would feel soft to the touch. Those curls framed dark olive skin and golden eyes still puffy and red rimmed from crying.

He shakily stood, dusting the dirt off, and gave Fenric a heartfelt smile. “Thank you so much. I am in your debt.” His soft voice wobbled as he spoke and his smile appeared too thin on his face, as if he were pulling on the last of his reserves to keep up this gentlemanly front. Fenric suspected that if one more bad thing happened to him, he’d shatter like glass.

“Sure thing.” Fenric returned the knife he’d been using on the coffin lid to its sheath and scratched his cheek with one finger. “Uh…you got somewhere to go?”

The puppy’s face fell as he looked around, taking in his full surroundings at the edge of a pauper’s grave. “I do not.”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it.

Fenric could feel the stupidest words welling up in the back of his throat, and he fought to swallow them down like bad meat. He didn’t need this extra burden right now. None of his group did. He had his own shit to deal with. Why would he invite along a bit of baggage someone else had buried in a pauper’s grave?

But deep down, Fenric knew the answer. He would have given anything to have someone extend a hand to him when he’d been standing in his own lonely graveyard. If someone had, maybe he wouldn’t be in the fucked-up mess he was in now.

Fenric squeezed his eyes shut and cursed himself a fool a thousand times over, but the words bubbled up again, and this time, he didn’t bother trying to hold them back. If anything, maybe they’d buy him some grace from his mother after failing her so many times.

“I feel bad about just leaving you out here.” Fenric opened his eyes and glanced at the sky to see the dark clouds churning, blotting out the poor moon again. “Especially since it’s probably going to rain tonight. If you don’t mind following a villain home⁠—”

“Sir, you jest. You are my savior! I would be honored to stay a night with you.”

Nobleman’s son. Definitely. Merchants didn’t talk with such pretention. Which meant Fenric now had even more questions and a possible ransom on the mind. Yes, that was why he was bringing him home! It wasn’t out of pity or because he was in danger of becoming a giant sap. It was the money!

“All right, well, come with me. My house isn’t far from here.”

The puppy’s smile was back in full force. “You are ever so kind.”

“Ha, no, I just…” Fenric wasn’t sure how to defend himself. Did he need to defend himself?

He found this whole situation weird. The entire night had been weird. He needed a meal and a drink…and, well, a bath after crawling around in a grave.

Shaking his head, he climbed out of the hole, then turned and gave Puppy a hand up as well. The younger man managed it lithely, and once he was on level ground again, Fenric felt it prudent to ask, “What’s your name?”

“Uh, call me Maxie.” The young man’s bright eyes darted away and Fenric fought a grin. Real name or not, the guy got a point for not being completely naïve and for having some street smarts.

“Maxie, huh? I’m Fenric, or Fen. You’ll meet my party once we reach the house. Don’t get overwhelmed. They’re all decent men who won’t hurt you. Not unprovoked, at least.”

“I’m sure they’re splendid fellows.” Maxie beamed up at him, but the corners of his mouth seemed to wilt again just as quickly, and his eyes drooped. It was as if he were trying to hold up this energetic, carefree facade while being exhausted and scared to his very core.

Also not too tall, this one. Fenric was of average height at six feet even, but this cute pup was a few inches shorter. Oh dear, he could feel the nickname Puppy solidifying in his head. He was sure to keep calling Maxie that. Hopefully, he wouldn’t get offended.

“Right. Well, let’s get going.”

Fenric led the way, happy to get away from the graves before something else tried to get his attention. Digging up one person was enough for the night.

Maxie followed him without question, which bothered Fenric on an instinctual level. He wanted to scold the kid—don’t follow strange men home—except he’d invited Maxie to do just that. Still, this kid was too innocent by half.

Maxie’s gaze stayed on Fenric’s face. “You’re not going to ask why I was in that coffin?”

Fenric shrugged one shoulder as he led him out of the old graveyard and into the slums of the southern district rather than taking the path he’d originally planned. “We all have our circumstances.”

A sad smile flitted over his face. “You’re very kind.”