The Spymaster’s Prize: Chapter 4

Elia cradled her bowl and watched Cass raise his spoon to his mouth. He still sat on the edge of the bed and she sat on the floor, her coat spread beneath her. The cabin was far from warm, but it had grown comfortable enough that she thought it wiser to acclimate to the chill. When night came, she’d need a blanket. There was only one on the bed and she doubted it would be enough.

He ate in silence, his dark eyes trained on his food.

“Well?” she asked.

Cass paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“How is it?” There hadn’t been many options for ingredients, but she’d still watched with interest when he’d taken that first bite. That his face told her nothing had been disheartening, to say the least.

“It’s fine.” He took another bite.

Elia watched, unsure how to react. What had she hoped for? That he might rave over her culinary skills? That a warm meal would melt through his chilly exterior? The concept was ridiculous. Of course it was fine. She’d made a decent soup from mediocre supplies, something edible that was relatively pleasant in taste, but otherwise unremarkable. She tempered her disappointment at his lack of reaction and fed herself.

He gave her no compliments, but when his bowl was empty, he got up to refill it. That, she decided, was a compliment on its own.

“What do we do now?” she asked between bites. She hadn’t thought beyond bandaging his injury, and that was already done. He hadn’t been pleased to give up a garment for her to cut into strips, but whatever reward her father offered would be more than enough to replace it.

Instead of returning to the bed, he sat on the corner of the hearth. “Eat. Then sleep.”

“It’s late afternoon,” she protested.

“More time to sleep, then.”

“Surely you have something else to do. Books, wood carving—”

“You’re welcome to fix the door, if you’d like.” He pointed at the hole his cloak occupied with the end of his spoon.

Elia shot him a frown.

“Well, if you don’t like it, you’re welcome to make other suggestions.”

Any suggestion would have been better than that, but she found herself scanning the tiny cabin and turned up nothing. It was a single room, sparsely furnished, and completely lacking anything she might have found useful for occupying her time. Repairing the door started to sound like a viable option, after all. “Have you got a hammer and nails? I’ll put something over it.” She wasn’t sure what, but even a sliver cut from a piece of firewood would help.

Cass glanced at her, surprised, but then pointed out what she assumed was a toolbox.

“And your axe, so I can cut a plank from one of those logs?” She’d never wielded an axe before and wasn’t sure she could use it effectively for cutting lumber, but she didn’t think it would be impossible.

He pointed to that, too.

Elia finished her soup and left her bowl on the hearth, then crossed the room to select a piece of firewood from the stack beside the door. He offered no suggestions or help as she worked out how to split off a narrow plank, but he did take a third serving of soup.

The wood didn’t split easily, but the axe was sharp and she worked at it with little taps, lest the log split in a way she didn’t expect. Eventually, it came away with a crack and she held up the new piece before the hole in the door.

Cass finished his meal and stacked his bowl with hers. “You’re more independent than I’d expect from a woman who got herself waylaid in the woods.”

She gave a quiet snort. “It’s not as if I was supposed to be waylaid. I’ve been out to Vinson’s sugarbush a hundred times. It’s always been perfectly safe.”

The twitch at the corners of his mouth seemed less sure. “Not much of Kentoria is safe right now.”

Elia wouldn’t disagree. The country had been in upheaval for years, as king after king suddenly died and the throne was passed about like a hot stone in a children’s game. The instability had caused trouble for everyone. Her father’s businesses suffered and her youngest brother—older than her, still, but the youngest of the boys—had not yet finished his term of conscription. Word from the army was nothing good. “It will get better.”

“You a loyalist?” An edge cut through the gruffness of his voice.

She raised her chin. “Are you not?” Support for King Gaius had been scarce, his rise to the throne perhaps the most tumultuous of all. But her favorite cousin now resided in the palace, and Thea’s proximity to the throne made it hard not to believe the best.

“Don’t know enough about the king to say.” Now he sounded indifferent, a stark contrast to what he’d said just a moment before.

“I think he deserves a chance,” Elia said slowly. Truly, she thought the new king deserved respect and support, but if Cass was one of the many who blamed the troubled Rothalan line for the kingdom’s woes, admitting as much could make their unexpected shut-in more unpleasant than it had to be. She fitted the cut plank over the hole in the door and readied a nail.

“He’s secretive,” Cass added. It was the first thought he’d volunteered on his own, and she paused with the hammer in hand to let him continue. He moved the bowls farther away. “I don’t expect a ruler to let everyone in their business, but hardly anyone has even seen the man. How are we to know he is who he claims?”

She raised a brow. “After everything the crown has revealed lately about the deaths of prior kings, do you think there are many who would falsely claim to be part of the Rothalan line?”

“No,” he admitted. “That bloodline is cursed.”

“Then maybe that’s why King Gaius keeps to himself.”

He considered that while she tapped the first nail into place. It wouldn’t be a quality repair by any means, but he’d be able to fix it with better materials come spring. Or perhaps on a more pleasant winter day.

“Still,” Cass said after a time, “he could stand to be more forthcoming. Talk in the city is he’s a dangerous man.”

“I saw you strike men with an axe. The same could be said of you.”

“That’s different,” he growled. “I had no choice.”

“Except to not save me, I suppose.” She couldn’t help the playful smirk she sent him.

Cass was unamused. “Don’t needle at me, woman. You’ll make me regret it.”

“Then I’ll strive to make myself a better house guest.” She drove in two more nails, then returned the hammer to the toolbox and dusted her hands together. “There, what do you think?”

Instead of just looking at her work from where he sat, he rose to inspect it up close. He explored the cracks in the wood with careful fingertips, lingered on the nail heads she’d driven in until they sat flush with the uneven slab of firewood she’d cut for the purpose. “It’ll do.”

That was it. No compliment, no praise, not even a word of thanks. He trudged back to the bed to sit down and Elia reminded herself he owed her no gratitude. It had been her fault he’d been in a hurry to open the door. If not for the strangers pursuing them, he would have had time to chip ice from the lock. She longed for even a hint of appreciation, but still made herself smile. “Good.”

Cass made his way back to the bed and folded back the blankets. “Put out the candles when you’re ready. Fire will burn itself out before morning.”

The transition between subjects was so abrupt, all she could do was blink. “I beg your pardon?”

“Hole’s patched, stomach’s full, nothing else to do but sleep.”

Her heart sank. “What about me?”

He considered the question a moment, then shed his boots and dropped one of the pillows on the floor.

Elia’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

“You’ve got a coat. Cloak’s over there on the floor, too. You should be all right.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “No way to get to the privy in this snowstorm, though. Should be another bucket around here somewhere.”

“A bucket?” she cried.

“So you should be all set.” He offered a curt smile, then flopped onto his uninjured side and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. “Good night.”

“You can’t honestly expect me to sleep on the floor!”

“I said, good night.”

She huffed and made a circuit of the room to snuff the candles. When only the crackling fire remained, she threw in another log to ensure it would burn a good portion of the night and glowered toward the bed. The floor was cold. Even the pillow she scooped from the floor was cold. She squeezed it to her chest and marched to the bedside. Her boots weren’t as easy to remove, and she teetered and stumbled back and forth as she worked to get them off.

Cass lay with his eyes closed, but the rhythm of his breathing hadn’t changed. She contemplated dropping the pillow over his head, but smothering one’s rescuer seemed in poor taste. Instead, she slapped it down on the bed beside him and sat down.

“Hey,” he growled.

She ignored it, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and yanked it out of his grasp. He tried to snatch it back, but she laid back before he could, positioning her hip over the edge of the blanket so he couldn’t pull it away.

“You’re out of your mind,” he said.

“Why? The bed’s big enough.”

“Hardly.”

She slid her feet back and nestled them against his legs.

Cass jerked back with a hiss. “Where are your socks? Your feet are freezing!”

“Stuck in my boots. I’ll get them in the morning.” She pursued him with her toes when he tried to escape. He couldn’t go far; the wall was to his back.

The sound he made was closest to a snarl. “You’re lucky it’s a blizzard, or I’d put you out in the dark and you’d be on your own.”

“Well, I’m grateful for your hospitality.”

He muttered something, but it was so low she couldn’t make it out, and he did not protest again. Instead, he shifted back until he touched the wall, fluffed his pillow, and pulled the blanket taut across the two of them.

Elia waited for him to change his mind and raise a fuss, her heart pounding. By the Light, what had come over her? She’d never been so pushy, so bold. Especially not with strangers.

She clutched the blanket close to her chin and drew a deep breath, willing herself to calm. Something about his prickliness brought out her courage, she decided. A stubborn man required a firm voice, or else he’d be impossible to work with. Tomorrow, if the storm cleared, they’d head for home, she’d see he was rewarded, and she’d see what could be done for her friend.

Thoughts of how she could help Peretor swirled thick in her mind as she waited for night’s approach and the first sign of drowsiness. Beside her, Cass remained still, and she did not know if he slept or not.

The howling wind around the cabin jangled her nerves, and she lay awake for a long time.