12. Chapter 11

"How did you know the back door was going to be unlocked?" I ask as I walk about the room. Inspecting the sheets on the bed that were once white but yellowed over time, along with the worn pillows.

Then, down to the large rug that covers the floor with frays at its ends. There is a round stain on the corner. I do not let myself think of the things that might have caused it. A table and chair sit in the corner, untouched. People do not come here to chat or do paperwork. The chair looks like it wouldn"t hold the weight of a small child.

The other corner holds a rusted tub for washing. When I"m done with my inspection of the room, I notice Kirian"s eyes piercing me through a mirror hung lopsidedly on the wall. I stop as if his stare pins me to the floor.

"It"s no castle, I know." He says to my reflection, I rip my eyes from the mirror, to avoid him but also so that I don"t have to see myself. I haven"t forgotten that he hasn"t answered my question.

He"s right, though. It"s no castle, but it"s also no jail cell, either. Nervously, I sit on the edge of the bed, grateful to be off my feet, which now have more scratches and blisters than I can count and a bruise appearing on my left ankle. I begin to pick at the mud that weighs down my trousers. Gods, I"m a mess.

Suddenly, moans come from the opposite wall, I snap my head in the direction of the noise. Kirian clears his throat uncomfortably. "Uh, that"s how I knew the back door would be unlocked. The Charlie has a…reputation." He says nervously as he walks in front of me. My mind wonders as I peer at his boots. How many women has he had in a room like this one? I knew it was common, especially for the men in The Guard to buy…lovers.

Kirian is handsome. I wouldn"t think a man like him would have to pay for something like that. I lean back and prop myself up on my arms. I try to push the thought of Kirian entertaining women here, on this bed, out of my head. The noises from behind the wall continue forcing my mind to wonder once more. My subconscious pulls me from the bed, away from what it has seen. I now stand awkwardly at its edge, favoring my right leg.

"I"ve caught a few of my men here. I have never- I –"he stutters. "I"ve never stayed here." His cheeks turn red with embarrassment, and I give him a reassuring half-smile as he defends himself like a child. He quickly moves on. "So, uh, you"ll have to stay here for a few nights. I"ll bring you some food and a change of clothes." He is still stumbling over his words and avoiding eye contact.

Kirian turns as if he is done. Then he swings back to face me, his hand in his hair. "You"ve been requested to wear a dress." He says shyly at the end of his ramble. He finally looks up and scans me over me from head to toe, no doubt taking in the matted hair, bruised skin, dried blood, and Gods know what else.

I chuckle to myself, both my nerves bubbling over and at his statement. Like Hell, I"ll be wearing a dress. I push my knotted hair over my shoulder. He laughs, too, but it"s for an entirely different reason. He"s laughing at me. His face is stretched into that smile that shows his dimple and all of his teeth. I look down at his boots again, embarrassed. "Oh, you"re serious," I say when realization hits.

"Red or green?" he asks, and his smile grows impossibly larger. I remember the terrible red color that Medla dressed me in the day she and Adriel left. Red, the color of blood that ran down my face, both my own and Kirian"s. Red, the color of being left behind.

"Green," I answer. "No corset," I say at the end, never again. "And a change of men"s clothing as well." he tilts his head down, concealing his grin. I ignore him and continue. "I"m going to need a bath. I haven"t had one since- "I let my words drift off when I remember that I haven"t had one since he found me at the lake. When he was only keeping me away from the castle so they could search it. I took bird baths in the cell, and they brought us a change of clothes only once. My face warms and I look down at my trousers pretending to dust something off my knee.

Thankfully, Kirian is quick to fill the silence. "Anything else, princess? Furs or leathers? Jewels or gems?" Kirian takes the opportunity to tease me, so easily changing to the man who challenged me to his own bow and not the man who was in that small room tossing furniture and pushing me to tears.

"No," I say, still looking down. Not acknowledging his jest.

"Alright, done." He says, walking for the door, his right hand on the knob, the other squeezed tightly at his side. He twists his head over his shoulder. "Katsia." My name on his lips makes my heart quicken as if I am about to receive another bit of bad news. "Do not leave." He waits a moment, his words as serious as a strike to the heart, straight from Zeus. His eyes bore into me, and I swear heat radiates from his words. So, I nod.

"I will be back at dusk with food, then I"ll ask the servants to bring hot water for your bath." He gives me a reassuring smile then leaves shutting the door behind him. His feet shadow the other side of the door, when I stand and click the lock into place, he leaves.

I curse at myself for not getting more information from him before he left and now, I will be alone all day, until dark, until Kirian returns. I pull the chair to the window and take a seat, looking out at Thorn Row, or the little of it that I can see anyway. It helps to have the distraction from my thoughts of Shadows and men that want me to occupy their laps. I push Claire"s cryptic warning and Kirian"s words that were said to get under my skin out of my mind.

As the sun warms my face, I retreat from the window so that no one will see me as I watch the city. We traveled far from the markets, but you can tell where they are from the faint glow in the sky when the sun was still coming up. The owners are most likely lighting lanterns and setting up their respective shops for the soon-to-be-busy day.

Finally, I strip from my dirty clothes, looking down at my body, noticing that my ribs now protrude from my torso and the bones of my hips jut out further than my stomach. I run my fingertips over the hills and valleys of bruised skin before climbing into the bed. Ignoring my thoughts of what has previously happened under these same sheets.

The midday sun spills into the space, warming the small room, making it hard to keep my eyes open. I watch as the light reveals more of the room"s character. Torn curtains and cobwebs fill the corners. This bed is much more comfortable than the metal cots with broken springs under their thin mattresses at the jail, and for the first time in a long time, I fall right to sleep. No eyes or whispers, no nightmares, or pools of darkness, or the rattling of chains wake me.

Sleep does not last long. When I wake, I return to the window and think only of what the world would be like if I were in it, if I were the woman floating towards the markets with a basket in hand, if I had left House Luz long ago.

Father would not have had his reputation of generosity for taking me in. Cedric would not have had to seek me out for punishment for disrupting his wickedness. Adriel wouldn"t have had to fake kindness or pretend she wanted to be near me. Who knows how Medla would have chosen to release her anger had I not been the target of her insults.

Basking in the diminishing light and listening to the sounds of the city and sometimes the sounds of satisfied men and women so used to the noise now that I am unbothered by it. I stay like that until there is a knock at the door.

Is that fresh bread I smell?The sweet scent that I often enjoyed as Lupita fussed over my hair or made me wash my face and hands before I could take a slice for myself.

I open the door a crack at first, just to be sure. When I see Kirian holding a bag from the markets, I open it all the way, letting a smile take over my face at the thought of a good meal. He sees me eyeing the bag and hands it to me immediately. I take it over to the small table that I have placed near the window as well and sit down on the chair that is surprisingly still in one piece. Kirian follows, sitting on the edge of the bed to face me. He is not in his uniform this time. Just black slacks, a white tunic, and a gray jacket adorned with brass buttons. Its fabric stretched to fit his massive shoulders.

"So, where am I to go?" I ask through a mouth full of bread and cheese. Kirian"s eyes go wide as he watches me eat. I do not let it deter me as I continue. He laughs at me once more, and I"ve decided I"m okay with that. My siblings used to laugh at me, too.

I used to care, used to question Lupita about all the ways I could avoid their laughter, their judgment, or unnecessary comments. How to act and what to say. Until, no matter how many times I tried to win them over, they still went on about their lives without me.

So, I pay no attention as Kirian"s eyes bounce from my tangled hair to my dirty hands and finally land on my nose, still sore to the touch. Which likely means that it"s fractured. I ignore that unusual look that takes over his face for a second too long.

He clears his throat. "The Spent have questions. They will decide where you stand amongst those who have The Connection and most likely assign you a job within the organization." He watches as I wipe my hands off on my trousers. He takes out a handkerchief and places it on the table, I slowly reach for it and nod in appreciation.

It"s almost laughable. How many questions had Kirian asked me about associating with The Spent, with Claire? Yet he is to deliver me straight to them. I make sure not to let the surprise leak to my face. If I wasn"t so worried about death, the Shadows, and my Father, maybe I would have realized that The Spent is who he is working for. I should have picked up on the not-so-subtle accusations. He so clearly thinks that I had figured it out long ago.

So I let him believe I knew all along as I ask, "And if I don"t want to work for them?" I pay no mind to his curious grin. I wipe the crumbs from the corners of my mouth with the orange fabric that Kirian pulled from his pocket, it smells like him.

His face goes from playful to serious. "You"ll have no choice." He tells me. "For some reason, they care more now than ever about keeping those with The Connection alive. That"s why you"re not hanging from a tree somewhere." This turns my stomach in an awful way, only hours ago I was terrified that that was my fate. I do not ask more about the Spent. It"s clear that Kirian will be handing me over to them whether I want him to or not.

"So, you"ve done this before?" I ask in hopes that the distraction will take my thoughts away from the image of me swinging back and forth, my neck in a noose.

"Yes." He says calmly as he stands. He leans against the wall, crossing one leg over the other. And the room grows unbearably quiet, so quiet that music can be heard from somewhere on the floors below.

"How did you know that I escaped?" I ask to fill the silence. Even though I have a million other questions.

"When I went to your cell to check on you, you weren"t there." He pauses. Raises an eyebrow at me. "I wish I had noticed sooner." Kirian leans his head to the side to see the city below.

He wasn"t there. When I passed those guards, he was not one of them. "Do you always check on the prisoners?" I ask without thinking.

"Only the ones I am assigned to watch" he lets that stupid smirk pull at his mouth again. I become suddenly interested in the crumbs I left behind on the table, pushing them around with a finger. How many times in the night did he come to see me in the fit of nightmares? My cheeks heat at the thought of him watching me sleep.

"You"re turning red, Katsia." He says, but when I look up, he still looks at something outside. Not at me at all.

"I"m embarrassed. That I didn"t notice."

"You were not meant to notice." He pulls a bag from his shoulder, just another thing that I had not been paying attention to and didn"t see when he came in. But give me some slack, I was jailed and thought I was days from death, wished for it even.

He takes out a pair of trousers and a black shirt. Then a jacket with gold buttons. It is of high quality. I wonder if it cost him a lot, or if he had it from when he was a boy. There is no way I would be able to fit into something of his now.

Then, he pulls out a long, solid green dress and a white petticoat. I hate it. And my feelings are not well hidden because he chuckles as he lays them on the bed. "It"s not that bad, is it?" he asks. He sets a pair of worn boots at the foot of the bed, my boots, I realize. I stare at the worn straps that hardly hold the leather together.

I look up at him, and his eyes were ready for mine, as he settles back into his comfortable stance against the wall. "Have you ever worn a dress?" Now it"s his turn to turn a shade of red, but I just keep his eyes as I wait for an answer. And he steps up to the challenge.

"No Katsia, I have never worn a dress." He says, looking between my eyes wildly as he waits for me to speak.

"Well, count yourself lucky. Don"t get me started on all the things you"re not allowed to do in a dress. Not to mention the things you physically cannot." I shake my head as I speak. "You can"t run or lift your arms above your head. You can"t walk through tall grass, or the skirt will be filled with burweed. Even if you could do those things, you wouldn"t be able to breathe while doing them. The damned thing is a death trap." I point to the fabric on the bed, peeling my eyes from his.

Kirian doubles over, a deep laugh fills the room.

My cheeks redden further, I only said what was true, I don"t understand what is so funny.

"You"re feral." He says after his fit of laughter. Feral? I use forks and knives when I have them. Reply to others with please and thank you. That is not feral, but no use to argue, I know that. I know what people see when they look at me.

"You"ve caught me at a bad time," I reply, turning back towards my crumbs to avoid his gaze.

"I haven"t caught you Katsia. You cannot be caught. Why just yesterday you escaped me, remember?" He plays on my words. Then he walks over and squats in front of me, using the back of my chair to hold himself up, our heights even now. "It"s more fun when it"s not easy." He drawls. When I look over at him, he has wiped the smile from his face. "I"m sorry for what I had to do." I glance down at his hand to see if the cut remains on his palm. It"s now scarred over slightly, pink but still there. He, too, is looking at the place on my neck where blood dripped down onto the white shirt.

It was kindness, what he did for me, his blood over my own. I see that now. I look at him, really look at him, to make sure that his apology rings true. While I have his face so close to mine, I catch myself studying his features. His jaw is sharp, and the blonde stubble along his chin gives him a look of a man.

When he is clean shaven his features turn more boyish, that"s who I saw first, the man who sat next to me on that bench in Center Square, a boy. There are thin lines around his eyes and mouth, years of wearing that smile. My hand plays a foul trick on me, reaching out to touch one of those lines that surround his mouth. The same gentle caress that he afforded me.

He clears his throat, something I"ve noticed he does when he is uncomfortable. I don"t want to make anyone feel like that. I snap my hand away quickly, just as he did when he guided me under the window, both of us ashamed of what we might have made the other feel. I turn my head, looking anywhere but at him.

My hair tickles my arm as he lets out a breath. "I"ll get the servants to bring you hot water," he says before he stands and points to the tub that barely fits in the small room. It"s rusted on the sides. I try not to think of the disgusting things men have done in that tub.

"T-thank you." my words barely make their way out. He stalks out the door, disappearing for a short while. When he comes back, he is disheveled, his hair is ruffled, and he has pulled a few buttons undone, baring his chest to me. I do not let myself look for long.

"Get into the bed, cover yourself with the blankets when the maids come in. Once they are done, you can bathe. Do not let them see you. I will be back." I nod my head but do not say anything. He walks out the door once again, running into a servant as he leaves. He pulls the door behind him so that they do not see me. "My wife is not decent. She needs a moment," I hear him say to one of them.

I leap to the bed, tucking myself under the blankets. When the door opens again, he gives them the okay before pushing past them. They filter in, I hear the buckets of water sloshing into the tub. They come in and out a few times before a woman"s voice tells me the bath is ready. The door shuts again, and I get out of the bed to lock it before crawling into the clawfoot tub. I"m already warm from my interaction with Kirian, so the warmth from the tub does nothing to relieve me.

"My wife,"I have to laugh to myself at his words. What kind of couple would choose to stay in a dump like this?

Kirian does come back that night. He places a bag on the table as I lay on the bed. He must have thought I didn"t have my fill of food because my nose rejoices with the scent of something sweet as he passes me.

My black shirt clings to my body where my long hair has dampened the fabric still wet from the bath. My legs are only covered to just above the knee, which he scans over quickly before looking back at the table.

I pull the blanket over myself to hide from the emotion on Kirian"s face that I cannot place. Hunger, I decide. He looks at me like he hasn"t eaten in days. I prop myself up on my hands "Would you like to stay and eat with me?" I ask him.

His large hand pulls at the strands of blond at the top of his head. He seems to go into thought because his jaw clenches and his eyes wander the room but never make their way back to me. "No." he decides. Then, he walks back to the door, white knuckles the knob, before turning it and slamming it behind him. This time he does not wait for me to lock it. His boots are already heavy on the stairs, and I hear the back door of The Charlie slam into its frame as he closes it.

It was not hunger that I saw behind those green eyes. No, it had to have been anger. At me, for not staying in that damned cell, for being ignorant to the world, for forcing him to take care of me in this room for three days. I do not open the bag he left. I only strip off my damp clothes, lock the door, and lay in bed with my eyes open, wishing I knew how to correct the situation I put him in.