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Devon grinned his roguish smile, and I couldn’t help smiling back which was absurd, given my situation. I really was deplorably weak where this man was concerned, but I remained convinced that, eventually, he would do the right thing before we reached Gaunt. He wouldnothand us over; he didn’t want to, and we’d been through too much together.
“A night in a real bed is exactly what I said you needed,” I pointed out.
“That’s the sort of place Latran’s soldiers will be checking,” Devon shook his head.
“Good food too,” I went on. “It’ll help you heal.”
“I’m healing fine.”
“You’re healing incredibly fine, actually, but think how much faster you’ll continue to heal if you stay in a bed. One night.”
He was tempted, I could tell.
“You said they were good people,” I continued. “Slip them a few extra coins and they’ll warn us of any soldiers. Won’t they?”
Devon rocked his hand from side to side. “I’d say it depends if the soldiers are offering bribes as well. But Latran’s soldiers aren’t paid much so perhaps we could be alright.”
I smiled. “You clearly want to stay. It’ll do you good.”
“I guess it will,” Devon relented. “But don’t think this is an opportunity.”
“Haven’t I earned your trust yet?” I hadn’t asked a direct question like that before, and I was slightly surprised by the seriousness of Devon’s answer, as he hung his head.
“You think you can make a decent man of me. That if you tow the line and treat me better than I’ve any right to expect, that I’ll do the right thing. You’re on a fool’s errand, Selena. I told you; there are things Ihaveto do, even if I don’t want to do them.”
***
“Marcus?” The landlady, Petra, was a large woman in her middle forties. “I kicked him out over a year ago. He had one hand in the till and the other up the scullery maid’s skirts.”
“Sorry to hear that,” said Devon.
“Don’t be,” laughed Petra. “I clonked him over the head with a saucepan, and dragged him out into the mud, then let everyone know that he’d been shortchanging them for years. Herders don’t take kindly to being cheated—it’s a lean enough life. They gave him a hiding and sent him packing. That’s when I married Thomas.” Then she turned around and bellowed, “Thomas! Come in here and say hello.”
The kitchen door swung open and a young man hurried in, whacking his head on the frame as he did so, though he didn’t seem to notice it.
“This is Devon,” Petra introduced. “And his friends. Say hello, Thomas.”
“Hello!” Thomas exclaimed. He was well over six foot and built like an ox, muscles threatening to tear his shirt open. He had a handsome face, thick black hair, and an expression that was so open, it was practically letting in a draught.
“Alright, back to it,” Petra instructed. “Customers waiting.”
“Right!” Thomas exclaimed and went back into the kitchen, whacking his head again.
“Does he always hit his head like that?” asked Devon.
“Yes,” nodded Petra. “But, don’t worry yourself. There’s nothing in there to damage. Not a brain in that man’s head. He’s the ideal man Thomas; too dumb to pilfer the takings, but smart enough to keep hold of a good woman when he’s got one.”
“Sounds like life is good,” judged Devon.
“Life’s what you make it,” smiled Petra. “I decided it should be good.”
I wondered how true that was, how many of the problems we face are of our own making.
“And you?” the landlady asked. “Same as ever?”
“As you see,” Devon nodded.
I had noted that, when we walked in, Devon suddenly straightened up and regained the swagger in his gait that had been missing since his injury. He was determined to show no weakness. Whether there were enemies here or not, he wouldn’t let anyone know that he was vulnerable.
