Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(12)

“Wargi, finish the dishes for the lady, then throw some crusts at that vermin outside,” he barked as he walked away.

Wargi stood and gently removed the dishrag from her hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him. He looked embarrassed and began tackling the pots in the sink.

“Come, rest your feet a moment, dear girl,” Tensyn said.

She could think of no way to refuse and keep her cover, and so took the seat offered, cringing as Tensyn slid uncomfortably close to her.

“Beauty such as yours should never have to look upon that filthy Elsiran. Wargi, find a bag to cover the pig’s head with.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jasminda shot a quick glance toward the porch but couldn’t see Jack from her position. Tensyn launched into a long and meandering tale of his valor during the Seventh Breach, of the vast number of Elsirans he’d killed and the accolades he’d received from the True Father. Every so often, he would twirl the tips of his mustache and pause to check her reaction. She’d never thought herself a good actress, but she strove to appear impressed.

He finished his story, and she bobbed her head enthusiastically, eyes wide as saucers to portray her awe. He then gave a great yawn and announced he was off for a nap. Jasminda slumped in her chair, exhausted, and noticed Wargi had slipped away at some point. She stood to retrieve the extra food she’d set aside for Jack before heading out to the porch.

He sat propped against the railing, looking like a discarded scarecrow with the sack covering his head. She knelt before him and removed the bag. He blinked at her, then frowned.

“I was rather enjoying the privacy.”

She bounced the sack in her hand. “I can put it back if you like.”

He yawned, stretching his shoulders as far as he could with his arms tied. His shirt was still open, and she watched the muscles of his chest bunch and flex. Though he was bruised and scarred, she couldn’t draw her eyes away.

Silence stretched between them, and she realized he hadn’t missed her stare. Her cheeks grew warm and she ducked her head, pushing the bowl of mashed turnips toward him. He picked it up and awkwardly shoveled the food into his mouth with his bound hands, then turned to her with raised eyebrows and a grimace.

“Those are the herbs,” she said. “They’re bitter, but they’ll help you heal.” She would have to wait until later in the afternoon to use any more Earthsong.

A clattering inside drew her attention, and she slipped back through the door.

In the main room, Wargi knelt in front of the large oak cabinet, the contents of which were lined up on the floor. Spread before her were the memories she kept locked away. Her mother’s quilts, toy trucks whittled and painted by her father’s hand, the twins’ hiking boots, their sketch pads, tiny tin soldiers. When they’d first gone, she’d opened the cabinet several times a day to touch something of theirs, to remind herself that though she was alone now, she hadn’t always been.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

The boy turned around, his eyes wide behind his spectacles. “S-sergeant said to make an inventory.”

“An inventory? Of what?”

“Everything, miss.”

“For what purpose?”

Wargi stared at her, one of the seven bottles of gin her father had purchased shortly after her birth shook in his hands.

“Put that down before you drop it,” she snapped. He placed the bottle down next to the others.

She spun on her heel and marched into her parents’ bedroom. Wargi scrambled to follow her. Tensyn lay across the bed, a cloth covering his eyes. He startled when the door crashed against the wall and sat up, moving a hand to the empty holster at his hip. His revolver sat on the dresser, just out of reach.

“Sir, your men have no right to paw through my family’s belongings.”

Tensyn blinked slowly. His normally perfect hair was lopsided from the pillow. His mustache was slightly askew to match.

“Miss Jasminda. It is imperative that we take all the necessary security precautions during our stay here.”

“Including snooping through my things?”

“It is standard procedure and should cause little problem if you have nothing to hide.” He rose, taking a moment to stop in front of the mirror and pat his hair back into place. He smiled that repellant smile, then led them back into the main room.

“Seven bottles of gin?” His eyebrows rose.

“The dowry my father prepared.”

He bent to inspect a bottle. “Where did your father acquire this? I’ve never seen this labeling before.”

The brand was Elsiran. Jasminda’s mind raced to come up with an explanation. How would an Elsiran product be purchased in Lagrimar? “I was an infant when he bought them, so I can’t be sure. Perhaps it was bounty from his time in the Sixth Breach.”

After scrutinizing the bottle for a few more moments, he finally set it down. The tension in her shoulders unwound just a notch. “I’m sure you realize that a dowry is an old-fashioned concept, Miss Jasminda. The True Father frowns upon such indulgences and archaic traditions. All nonessentials must be paid as tribute to the True Father or his representatives. This is a difficult time for my men, and if there’s something here that can make them more comfortable, I’m obliged to provide it. I’m sure you must understand my position.” His voice oozed false sincerity.