“She won’t be any trouble,” Whit said enthusiastically and Krampasarian barely managed to refrain himself from snorting.
Of course she would be trouble. Females were always trouble. But it would be worth it to have her near him, where he could see her, possibly even touch her…
“And she doesn’t take up much room.” Whit continued, “She can share my bed.”
What? Jaelle would be in his bed, not the child’s, but why would Whit even think… A sinking feeling filled his chest.
“Whit, what are you talking about?”
“Cinna, of course. You said she could come and stay with us.”
“I said your sister could stay here?” he repeated disbelievingly.
“Course you did! When can we go get her?” Whit beamed up at him.
Chapter Five
Krampasarian muttered to himself as he strode back down the mountain path that night. How had he let the child talk him into this? He certainly didn’t need another person on his ship. But Whit had sworn that if he was not there to take care of his sister, she might starve to death. How could he, in good conscience, allow that to happen? And letting Whit go so quickly would not serve to teach the cruel male a lesson.
His footsteps hesitated as he passed Jaelle’s cottage, but he did not want to delay his mission. Would she bathe again before retiring? Perhaps if he were quick, he could watch her once more.
He was earlier tonight when he reached the village - more windows still glowed with light and he heard conversations coming from the houses. He slowed as he passed them, catching glimpses of a male talking to his female as they sat close together, of a parent carrying a child to bed, a group of young people gathered around a fire and laughing. They didn’t seem to mind the primitive conditions or the lack of common conveniences, and he found himself curiously envious. If he had been at home on Tandrok, he would have been alone in his perfectly maintained house as he meditated before retiring. Or perhaps he would have been at an elegant social gathering, where polite words and elaborate courtesies disguised malicious intentions.
Foolishness. He shook his head and increased his pace, following Whit’s directions to a small building on the outskirts of the village, close to the nearby river. “Old lady Linnea,” as Whit had called her, was a widow who took in laundry and sewing from the wealthier townspeople. She had three children of her own, all girls. As he passed the lighted front window, he could see the female bent over a small garment, her fingers flying busily as she chatted with two older children.
The room was small, the furniture shabby, but everything was spotlessly clean. Neat piles of clothes filled several baskets. Nodding approvingly, he slipped around the back of the cottage to the room where Whit had said his sister slept. He peeped through the window, then swore silently.
The tiny room had a bed against each wall, both of them containing a child. How would he know which one was Whit’s sister? Even more unfortunately, he was far too large to climb through the small window. He would have to wait until the female finished her work and retired to bed, then enter through the front door. Casting a disdainful glance at his surroundings, he tried to decide between the doubtful pleasures of perching on a snow-covered rock or leaning against the equally cold stone wall of the cottage.
A small sound interrupted his musing, and he looked down to see a pair of wide blue eyes staring up at him through the window. He braced himself for the child’s scream as he searched hastily for his sleeping potion. Despite his immediate instinct to withdraw, he had promised Whit that he would return with his sister.
To his shock, the girl didn’t scream. All she did was stare up at him, and as he stared back, he realized that although her features were smaller and more delicate, the resemblance was unmistakable. He had no doubt this was Whit’s sister. He was even more shocked when, after a moment of silent contemplation, she opened the window.
“Hello.” Her voice sounded like tiny bells, completely unafraid.
He had never been at such a loss for words. It took a full thirty seconds before he recovered enough to return her greeting. “Hello. Are you Cinna?”
“Yes.” She gave him a trusting smile. “Did you come to take me away?”
“No, of course not - well, yes, I did. Your brother sent me.”
“I thought so. Penny said the bad man took him and I was next.” Her small face wrinkled as she scowled over her shoulder at the child sleeping in the other bed. “I told her I wanted to be with Whit.” Turning back to him, she lifted her arms. “I’m ready.”
Still dumbfounded, he bent through the open window and carefully picked her up. Two tiny arms wound around his neck as she smiled up at him. His chest ached at the look of utter trust in her eyes. Had anyone ever looked at him like that before?
Determined to honor that trust, he gently adjusted her in his arms. By the Horns of Moroz, she felt impossibly frail, and he cast a worried look at the sky. An occasional flake of snow had begun to fall, and she was clad only in a thin sleeping garment. He had the sack, of course, but it seemed wrong to place her in it when she looked at him so trustingly.
In the end, he compromised and simply wrapped it around her small body. She snuggled against him and her eyes drifted close. She was asleep before he reached the other side of the village. Focused on his precious burden, he didn’t even pause as he passed Jaelle’s cottage, although he did spare it a regretful glance.
The light tap on her door made Jaelle freeze. She had spent the previous day trying to decide the best way to protect herself from Knut when she returned to the village, but she had never expected him to follow her all the way here. But the quiet knock hadn’t sounded threatening - and what if someone needed her?
She cautiously opened the door to find a woman leaning against the wall and panting.
“Do you really have to live so far up the mountain?” she said breathlessly as Jaelle stared at her.
“Melissa? What are you doing here?”
The plump tavern keeper surveyed her from head to foot, then snorted. “Always suspected there was more to you than you let on.”
Jaelle blushed and put a hand to her tangled curls as she realized she had forgotten to assume her usual disguise. “I…”
The other woman shook her head. “You don’t need to explain. Probably sensible not to let those horny bastards see the real you.”
“That’s what my grandmother said.”
“She was a wise woman, was Elise.” Melissa’s brows drew together. “But I’m not here about your secrets. Whit disappeared two nights ago. Now the girl’s gone too.”
“Cinna? Are you sure?”
“Linnea told me when she brought the washing. She said Cinna’s bed was empty and there was no sign of her. No one in the village has seen her. Linnea has to work, so I told her I would come see you.” Melissa peered over Jaelle’s shoulder into the front room of the cottage. “We were hoping maybe they were here?”
“Why would you think that?”
The other woman snorted. “I’ve seen you with them. You care about them and they adore you. I thought maybe Whit had enough of Knut’s bullying and ran away. But then I found this on the way up here.” The woman held out a scrap of pink. Jaelle’s heart skipped a beat as she recognized the ribbon she had given Cinna on a previous visit.