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“Why should I agree to die then?” I asked.If we’re going to deal, let’s deal.
“Why should we agree to let you live?” He looked interested at least.
“Lady Healer still needs to be paid—how can I do that if I’m dead?”
Healer stood from half a dozen places down the table, Darling stretched beside her plate, fishing something off it with a delicate paw. “It’s true, I have a debt to reclaim. Her corpse would not be worth as much as she owes.”
I would have stood for my answer, but no, I was trapped by the table. A toddler wedged into a highchair amidst the grownups. “I would pay Lady Healer back for her great services to me.”
“Services that would have been unnecessary if we’d just let her die and not healed her in the first place.” Nasty Tinker Bell popped up like a little gold cork. I thought about throwing a piece of fruit at her, then remembered something.
“But your judgments are not considered,” I said, seizing on her remark from before.
“It’s true, Lady Incandescence, you know you may not speak.” Falcon frowned at her. “Lord Rogue, as host, do you wish to censure her?”
“The lady may leave my table,” Rogue answered easily.
Nasty Tinker Bell threw her trademark look my way, with a generous slice for Rogue. Then she poofed, leaving a shower of golden glitter tinkling down on the table. A smattering of polite admiration ruffled through the room, as if that had been a particularly good trick. I raised my eyebrows at Rogue, who returned my gaze with bland indifference.
“Why doesn’t she get to vote?” I whispered out of the side of my mouth to Rogue.
Amused interest glittered in his unearthly eyes. “She is in my service—until I release her, she may only do as I say.”
Nice system.
The pink gal next to Rogue stood. “Lady Healer, what do you claim as recompense? Lord Rogue has claims of hospitality as well.”
“Traditional payment is acceptable—a life in return for her life.”
And here I’d been thinking a pot of gold.
“Lord Rogue?”
“Return service is acceptable.”
“Lady Gwynn, do you agree to the terms?”
I could see now that Pinkie had rosy wavelike patterns on the right side of her face, reminiscent of the fluted petals of a carnation. I chose my words carefully.
“As you are aware, lady, I am a stranger to your people and naive in the world—I apologize, but I do not understand the specifics of the terms. Can someone elucidate for me?”
Someone in the room laughed and Puck shifted restlessly next to me, but I thought I felt Rogue’s approval, though he appeared to be toying with the remains on his plate.
“Enough of this,” a voice called out. “She is too powerful. No terms. Death!”
“By dancing!” shouted someone else, which was greeted with general enthusiasm.
“Harnessed to our yoke,” Puck said, “she could be a considerable weapon in our glorious battles against the outlander barbarians.”
“Harness a lion to your cart, Puck, and see who it scratches!”
This brought on general hilarity, with suggestions shouted out for bedding wildcats, various paraphernalia to be used in the harnessing, and the likely state of Puck’s genitalia following certain efforts.
Puck joined in, leering at me. “Perhaps I’ll rent her service from Rogue!”
“Can you afford that?” Rogue returned, sweeping a hand at the room, finishing at Healer. “Consider the price of my hospitality.”
I was uneasy about what services I might render and suddenly felt much less enthusiastic about the concept of bedding Rogue.
