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“A’Deve,” Bron greets, returning with the requested tankard of ale and a wooden cup of spirits. He circles the long table to sit next to his brother.
“Here,” I say to Rina, plunking the cup down in front of her. “Drink this. It will help with the leg.”
She sniffs at it. “What is it?”
“Woman, can you not just do as you’re told? Not even once?”
“Probably not.” But she takes a drink anyway.
Over her choking and sputtering, I tell Bron and Gray about what happened on the road with Dumfries and his cronies. “So I’ll need you to get Elsy to check on the girl tomorrow,” I tell Bron. “Her name was Fanny something.”
“Fanny?” Bron says doubtfully. “Never heard of a girl with that name.”
“Her name was Farrana,” Rina rasps, leaning against my arm, still recovering from the rot-gut.
“The candle maker’s daughter? Dark hair?”
Rina nods and Bron pulls a face.
“She’s still a child practically.”
Gray finishes off his drink. “That band will be a problem if you’re not careful,” he says, pushing to his feet. “Now, I bid you all a good night.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the training ground, Gray,” I try, but he walks away without answering. He may never come back to the Range, but it will always be worth the attempt to convince him. “Come, Rina, let’s put you to bed.”
The stairs prove too much for her and when I sweep her up in my arms, she nestles against my chest. “That was a wonderful thing you did for that girl tonight,” she murmurs. “It made my chest swell with pride. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not a good man, Luka. You are.”
I snort, though her praise is soothing. “You’re too tired to think straight. In the morning, you’ll reconsider.”
Her soft sigh peters out when I don’t continue to climb the stairs. “Where are we going?”
“It’s too far into the cold season for you to stay in that room,” I tell her, not mentioning how unacceptable it is to me now not to know for sure that she’s safe.
Nudging the door open with my boot, I carry her in and find Kata sitting next to the blazing hearth with a needle and thread. She immediately stands, setting her sewing aside.
“Kata, hello,” Rina says, lifting her head from my shoulder. “Is it not late for you to still be up?”
The mute woman shakes her head.
“Did you get the things I asked for?” I demand.
She nods vigorously and walks to the bed to show me where a night dress has been laid out, along with woolen socks and another shirt.
“Good. You can go.”
Inclining her head, she goes to the bed and throws back the fur cover and the feather-stuffed ticking to show me the heated bricks she’s placed in the bed to warm it up. Then she retrieves her sewing and skitters away.
“Luka?” Rina whispers. “Whose room is this?”
“Mine.”
“Yours?” She sounds aghast as I set her down on the bed.
“Yes, like you.”
She’s suddenly much more alert. “Like me, what?”
“You’re mine.”
