Page 72 of Ruthless, But for Her

“Very few in Mere’s End sleep deeply, and most who do, never wake.”

Before meeting him, Cassia would not have believed it. But now? To be constantly alert would be an important habit in the world in which Ashton lived.

“Will you break your fast below?” she asked, more hungry than she’d been on this entire journey for some reason.

“Without you? Nay. I will bring us both a fresh loaf of bread and warm water. Is there anything else you require?”

In fact, there wasn’t. Cassia required much less than she ever expected.

If she were a braver woman, Cassia would have asked him to take her in his arms again. There, she felt… safe. But of course, she knew where such intimacy led and Cassia was less interested in experiencing that again.

“Nay. I want for nothing. But I’m looking forward to beginning the first of the two books.”

Ashton seemed about to say something, but instead, he finished dressing and left their chamber.

Their chamber. When had it become more than just a place where they hid from danger?

Cassia took care of her needs and dressed, finding she enjoyed doing so herself.

It was a small thing, to dress oneself, but she’d been discouraged from doing it her whole life. Who said ladies had to have maids, anyway? And why was it decreed that women were considered their husbands’ property? Why did Ashton and his brothers have to fight to survive, when others had more than they could possibly need in three lifetimes?

Once, in a book called the Policraticus, she’d read that a prince who rules for himself alone is no prince but a tyrant, and that the law binds him as surely as the meanest man in his household. She’d been perhaps fifteen when she’d first read that. And even then, she’d wondered whether the law bound a husband. But she had known better than to ask her father. Now, she wished she had.

Cassia moved to the shutters, not daring to open them, even though she very much wished to feel the sunlight on her face. It so rarely came out from behind the clouds this time of year. Instead, she made do with the sliver of movement Cassia could spy in the courtyard below.

She eventually moved to the chair, reading just a few lines when someone knocked. She headed toward the door and began to lift the bar when his words came back to her.

She was to only allow him and Magge entry.

“Who goes there?” she asked, expecting Magge since Ashton hadn’t made his presence known.

There was no response.

Another knock.

Ashton would have responded. Magge would have responded. So, she knew it was neither of them. And Cassia would not speak again, alerting whoever was on the other side of that door of her presence.

She stood beside it and listened. Nothing. Whoever it was hadn’t gone, or he had gone so quietly, she’d not heard it. She didn’t know which was worse.

When another knock sounded, Cassia jumped.

“Alys?” Ashton said.

Thank the heavens. She unbarred the door, and as promised, Ashton carried in a tray of freshly baked bread. This time, not white.

“Someone knocked,” she told him before he could sit.

Ashton froze. “Who?”

“I know not. I asked for them to reveal themselves, thinking it was either you or Magge. Instead, I received only silence and another knock, which I ignored.”

“When?” he asked, placing the tray on the small table beneath the shutters, its top scored with the rings of a hundred cups.

“Just a few moments past. No longer than it took me to cross the chamber twice.”

Ashton moved to the chest and retrieved his sword. He’d told her the day before that a hired man would carry only a knife. He took the sword anyway.

“Answer for no one. Not even Magge.”