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Oh yeah, great idea. Rogue snorted. I smiled at Blackbird. Then impulsively kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you for your extraordinary kindness to me.”
She looked startled, round eyes sharp and bright. “I’ll remember this, lady!” She scooted out the door, closing it behind her.
Chapter 7
In Which I Make My First Bargain
‡
“Ihad hopedthat your irascible nature was due to the pain and that the healing would have improved your personality,” Rogue said as the door shut.
He stood by the fire, arms crossed over his chest. Leather boots came up just over his knees and thick heels for riding added to his height. As if he needed it. He wore the silver knife at his left hip in a sheath glinting with jewels. A black leather belt threaded through the sheath swung low on his narrow hips. I pretended to be only noticing the knife and not the rest. And, oh yes, I was working on keeping my thoughts deep and quiet.
I folded my arms over my own chest—not easy with this many layers. My breasts were beginning to ache with the confinement. The rest of my body pulsed against the tight cloths.
“I’m not going to this party dressed like this.” I drew my line in the sand. He did the one-eyebrow raise, but didn’t move otherwise.
“Stay here then,” he returned, “and we’ll decide your restitution and future without you.”
He didn’t move to the door though. Just stood there, acute eyes framed by the thorns on his face and that glass-black hair, watching me.
“Why can’t I go but wear something else?”
“Why are you worried about—of all things—what you’re wearing? Titania save me from a woman’s foolish vanity.”
“Look, I don’t know much about this world. Where it is, who you are—and I notice no one is eager to answer these questions—but I am not accustomed to being dressed up and trotted about. Contrary to what everyone here seems to think, I am not a pet. I might be a prisoner, but I don’t have to be a cheerfully obedient one. Why does it matter what I wear?”
“There are things you don’t understand.”
“Well, hallelujah, at last we agree on something,” I snapped. “Clearly there’s some kind of charged socio-political thing going on here—do you really think it’s a bright idea for me to walk into something like that totally blind?”
“No.”
I waited.
The fire crackled.
I returned his stare, refusing to flinch. As far as I was concerned, a monosyllable doesn’t count as a valid conversational response so the ball was still in his court.
“We don’t have enough time,” he finally said.
Ha! Won that round. I pressed my advantage. “How much time do we have? When does this party start?”
“It’s not a party. It’s a reception and banquet. At which youwilleat,” he added. “And it’s starting right now.”
I glanced out the windows, where the fog remained the exact same shade of grayness. “How do you know it’s time? What time is it, anyway?”
“It’s time for the reception to start.”
“Okay, now that’s just circular reasoning. If I were inviting you to a party—” he opened his mouth, so I held up a hand, “—a reception and banquet, then. I would say, ‘Hey, Rogue, the dinner starts at seven o’clock and it’s six fifty-six right now, so we need to be on our way.’ Now it’s your turn to try it.”
He just looked at me.
“Go ahead,” I prompted. Never let it be said that I can’t be stubborn.
“We don’t measure time like that. Things start when they start. Time, however, can be wasted. Just like this. They’re waiting. We have to go.”
“I want to know at least some basics. We can be five minutes late, or five parsecs or half an inch of melted wax or whatever the hell. I’m calling your bluff—I think you want me there for some reason, so unless you intend to carry me in kicking and screaming, answer a few questions and I’ll go.”
