TWELVE

 

"I thought I told you to inform me when she awoke," Vardan said, staring down at the girl. Now she lay on the stone floor instead of the snow, but her closed eyes and the swelling bruise beneath her hair taunted him for being a bad host who did not properly protect his guests.

Inga must have run from the other end of the house, for she was still breathing hard. "Nobody told me, master. This is the first I knew of it, and it looks like she's no longer awake, anyway."

This wasn't Inga's fault, Vardan told himself, but it was hard to contain his anger. The girl was hurt, for heaven's sake.

"Who did this?" Vardan demanded. "She's just a slip of a girl. No need to clout her over the head. Inga here could probably restrain her."

Rolf coughed out a laugh. "She's more than a mere girl. Threw me across the corridor, she did, before she tripped over her own cloak and hit her head. I'll wager this one's a witch. How else did she get here?"

Vardan wet his lips. "I don't know, but I mean to ask when she wakes. Again. What did you say to her to make her attack you, Rolf?"

"I called her a thief." Rolf twitched the corner of her cloak aside and revealed a small casket. "She was carrying this."

Vardan lifted up the box. "From the cargo of the Rosa," he noted, tracing the merchant's mark on the side. He lifted the lid. "She's quite a discerning thief, then. A fine squirrel pelt, and a veritable treasure trove of jewels. What are these purple stones called?"

"Amethysts, master," Inga said. "Just the right shade to match that fur, too. The girl has a fine eye for colour."

A magical thief with fine eyes, who could match Rolf in a fight. Against all his normal inclinations to imprison her for being a thief, instead he felt the unfamiliar desire to protect her.

Vardan badly needed to speak to this girl. She sounded like the most remarkable woman he'd ever met, and he didn't even know her name yet.

"I'll take her back to her room, and this time, I intend to be there when she wakes up," Vardan said, once more scooping the girl up in his arms. Ah, that felt better. She was much lighter than before, though more heavily dressed, so her clothes must have been soaked through when she arrived. How had she made it from the ocean to his rose garden?

He added that to the list of things he wanted to ask her. In the meantime, he carried the welcome weight in his arms to her bed. After all, it wasn't like she could leave the island. She was trapped there as much as he was, whether she slept in a dungeon or the queen's bedchamber.

He settled her in her bed and sat down to wait. Answers would come soon enough.