Page 3 of Ruthless, But for Her

“Are you prepared?”

He spoke without looking at her, instead scanning the hall. Aware of everything and everyone, he was rarely settled.

“I am,” Cassia said, for there was no other answer.

He did cast a glance at her then, just as the meal was served.

“You are not happy?”

He frowned at the trencher placed before him. Cassia hid a smile, but he caught her.

“Cook has always been more loyal to you.”

She had no retort, since it was true. She thanked the serving girl and relished the first bite, and the subsequent ones as well. No one cooked quail quite like Cook, her favorite dish, a welcome reprieve before being cast to the borderlands.

“You've not answered, daughter.”

As always, he switched topics so rapidly, it was difficult to follow.

Of course she was not happy. Married to a man just short of cruel, and now being summoned north, courtesy of her husband's new appointment, to a place all agreed was beyond dangerous.

“You are not worried for my safety?”

It had been the question she'd wanted to ask since arriving home a fortnight ago.

He took a bite and settled back in his chair. Cassia watched him instead of eating. Waiting.

“I've little choice in the matter. Your husband has sent for you, and you must join him.”

He returned to his meal then. But not before she caught it, the briefest stillness in his hands, the way he set down his knife just a little too carefully. As if the weight of her question had landed somewhere he didn't want her to see.

He said nothing more. Neither did she.

“Pardon, my lady?”

The serving girl had returned, one Cassia had only met upon coming home. New to her father's household, she appeared capable, and Cassia had quite liked her.

“Forgive the interruption. It's young Thomas, the stable boy. He took a fall this afternoon and won't let anyone near the wound. He's been asking for you.”

Cassia rose without hesitation.

The boy was eleven, perhaps twelve, sitting in the straw with his jaw set and his pride intact despite the gash on his forearm that had bled through the cloth someone had pressed against it. She cleaned it, dressed it, told him he'd have a fine scar to show for it. He brightened considerably at that.

Stepping out into the night afterward, Cassia had little desire to return to her meal. She had little desire to return to her husband either, but she would do both.

For the moment, though, she allowed herself the small pleasure of leaning against the stone wall of the manor.

Tomorrow they would travel east toward the coast. The day after, she would find herself on a ship bound north. She dreaded reuniting with Roland.

The respite she'd been given since he was called to his new post would soon come to an end.

Unbidden, a single tear escaped down her left cheek. Cassia wiped it away, chastising herself as Nell would.

Foolish girl. To feel such sorrow for that which she could not control.

She pushed off the wall, stood straight, raised her chin, and with a breath she did not entirely feel, made her way back toward the hall.

She had quail, and for this one evening, it was enough.