Page 23 of The Hood and his Thief

With a kick to his knee, Rhosyn sent Ansel sprawling to the packed dirt ground. She fell on top of him, pinning his torso to the ground beneath her thighs. As frighteningly competent as he was with a knife, both blades were now on the opposite side of the room, and he was no match for Rhosyn in an all-out brawl. She was used to inelegant fights and had the crooked nose to prove it.

However, even as Rhosyn bore Ansel into the ground, his hands remained free. He managed to get one on Rhosyn’s face, shoving it to the side. This time, she didn’t refrain from biting him, closing her teeth savagely around his finger.

His howl of pain split the air as Rhosyn tasted copper. His shout was loud enough to risk being heard in the main tent, even over the roar of the still-cheering crowd.

He wrenched his hand away, trying to hook Rhosyn’s legs to flip them over. Rhosyn countered by grabbing his wrist, trying to pin him to the ground. She nearly lost focus as pounding footsteps sounded behind her. Ansel’s shout must have drawn an audience to their tussle.

“You. Are under…arrest.” Rhosyn grunted as she continued to wrestle Ansel into the ground despite his struggles. She was suddenly glad she was wearing her uniform.

“John,” Ansel gasped. “John!”

Rhosyn only had a moment to frown before thick arms wrapped around her torso, hauling her up and back. She kicked and hissed but it was no use.

The form behind her was easily twice as broad as Ansel. Her efforts to dislodge his grip were as fruitless as attempting to push a steam engine by hand. Still, Rhosyn kicked out, nearly catching Ansel in the head as he pushed to his feet. She bared her teeth, prepared to call him a set of creative names, but a cloth pressed over her nose and mouth just as she inhaled.

It smelled and tasted just like the smoke from Hood’s bomb, but so concentrated it made her eyes water and throat burn. She coughed as her lungs tried to reject the vapors, but it was too late. Her vision began to swim, her efforts to escape weakening quickly.

Ansel’s mouth moved as if he was saying something, but his voice reached her muffled and quiet, as if she were listening to him from under water. Just before the darkness at the edges of her vision closed in, Rhosyn met Ansel’s eyes, but instead of triumph, she could have sworn they held regret.

Chapter six

Rhosyn sank luxuriously into the mattress beneath her. Even though it was lumpy and thin, she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed. Usually, she jerked awake before dawn out of habit, ready to don her uniform and head out on patrol. Even now, she often shot up, imagining she heard a child’s cry, even though she hadn’t had any in her charge for several years.

Today, though, she lounged, embracing the heaviness in her limbs that seemed to keep her bound to the bed. It was that feeling of immobilization in her limbs that planted a seed of doubt in Rhosyn’s mind. Questions slowly wormed themselves into her sluggish brain: what time was it? Where was she? Why wasn’t she jumping up to prepare for a day of work?

Voices, somewhat muffled as if passing through a door, interrupted her thoughts.

“—can’t keep her here. Somebody is sure to come looking.”

“You know I wouldn’t consider the alternative.”

Rhosyn’s eyes snapped open at that voice. Ansel—the Hood—the tone belonged to both of them, yet neither of them. It didn’t have the flirting cadence of Mr. Blakely and wasn’t pitched quite as low as the Hood’s. Instead, Ansel sounded resigned, but his voice brought memories rushing back all the same.

Rhosyn’s gaze focused on an unfamiliar ceiling, after a few slow blinks to clear the blurriness from her vision. Battered gray slats, looking weathered enough Rhosyn was surprised she couldn’t see the room above, told her she was no longer in the tent where she had been knocked unconscious.

She made to sit up, only to find that the heaviness of her limbs was not just from her exhaustion, but from a set of ropes binding her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. With a grunt, she struggled against them and succeeded only in rattling the rickety bedframe.

“Shhh.” Ansel’s voice filtered through the door again. “I think she’s awake.”

Rhosyn exhaled heavily through her nose in frustration. In her anxiousness to get free, she had given up any chance to inspect her surroundings unnoticed. She stilled, listening for any snippets of the conversation outside that could give her an idea where she was, or how to escape.

“Well…what are you going to do?” the unfamiliar voice asked, low but still just audible.

Silence stretched.

“You can’t just leave her in there,” it pressed.

“I’m going to…talk to her.”

Ansel’s companion responded with a snort. “Oh, she definitely seemed like she would respond well to a reasonable conversation.”

“I can hear you, you know!” Rhosyn shouted at the ceiling, losing patience. She may as well make something happen if her captors were intent on waffling in the hall.

After a moment of extended stillness, a creak indicated the opening of a door. Rhosyn lifted her head, the crane of her neck an uncomfortable strain with her arms stretched above her. Ansel stood in the doorway, an unmistakable combination of the two men who had haunted her life of late. He was dressed like the Hood, in dark green, practical gear that contrasted greatly with the pageantry of his circus-owner garb. He had forgone the hood though, leaving his expression visible. Although his green eyes and the silver streak in his hair were familiar, his welcoming smile was replaced by a hard look. He stared at Rhosyn like she was a problem he couldn’t solve. From his frown, she would have thought he was the one who had woken up tied to a bed.

After a moment of staring, Rhosyn raised her brows in silent question.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Ansel started.