Page 19 of The Warrior Priest
“I thought you’d say that.” He cleared his throat and turned to face me. “Then you’d better get married.”
It was so utterly unexpected that I burst out laughing.
Rhys didn’t join in. His eyes shuttered. “Find it ridiculous, do you? Well, I don’t. A married woman becomes the responsibility of her husband. Everything she owns belongs to her husband. The governor won’t legally be able to get his hands on you or your pendant.”
“I don’t want to be a man’sresponsibility. I don’t want to become his property, forced to do his bidding until the day one of us dies.”
“A good husband won’t force you to do anything.”
I put up a finger as I thought of another thing. “A husband won’t let me continue to spy for you.”
“You won’t need to spy. He’ll support you. You’ll have his children and keep house for him.”
“Ugh. Sounds dull. Who would I marry, anyway? The only eligible man I know is my neighbor, the butcher’s son, and he smells.”
“He’s theonlyone?” he scoffed.
“Getting married won’t stop Uncle Roderic anyway. It will stop him fromlegallygetting his hands on my pendant, but you forget about all the illegal methods he could employ. Marrying won’t protect me. All it will do is expose me. I can’t use my false name because that’s for a man, so I’ll have to give my real name, which will then be recorded in the city’s marriage registers. Then it’ll simply be a matter of time before news reaches Uncle Roderic that a woman going by the same name as his niece is getting married.”
My logic seemed to annoy him. He strode past me, whipping his cloak off the back of the armchair as he did so. He stopped when he reached the door. “You’re right,” he bit off. “It was a stupid idea.”
Why was he being so ill-tempered about this? It was so unlike him.
“Goodnight, Jac,” he said, opening the door.
“Wait, Rhys. I almost forgot.” I approached him, not wanting to speak too loudly with the door open. “I followed Giselle today and I need to tell you something. She’s a thief.”
“No, she isn’t. She’s an assassin.”
Chapter5
Ispent a restless night wondering why Rhys would leave the priesthood for an assassin. I’d finally managed to fall asleep when the incessant peel of the high temple’s bell woke me late in the morning. It only rang that many times when there was something to announce.
I scrambled out of bed and hurriedly dressed. I was still buttoning up my jerkin when I joined my neighbors in the court outside our homes. One woman had already sent her son to the market to see if the city’s criers were spreading the news yet.
Mistress Lowey emerged from her kitchen, wiping her hands in her apron. Unlike the neighbors, she lacked enthusiasm. “We already heard about the deputy governor,” she said with a shrug.
“What about the deputy governor?” I asked. Hopefully he’d been arrested on charges of rape after all, although I worried about the poor woman who’d accused him. She would have a difficult time convincing a judge to find her attacker guilty, and then she’d have to pay an exorbitant fine.
“It won’t be about him,” said Mistress Milkwood. “That’s already old news. Anyway, he’s not important enough for the high temple’s bell to ring this long.”
Several faces turned in the direction of the high temple, even though we couldn’t see it from the courtyard.
Mine wasn’t one of them. “What about the deputy governor?” I asked again.
“He’s dead,” Mistress Lowey said. “Murdered in his own home late yesterday. The news was all over the market this morning.”
“Good riddance,” Mistress Milkwood muttered. “The killer did this city a service getting rid of that flea.” Nobody chided her for her heartlessness. The deputy governor had no supporters among ordinary Tilting folk. “Apparently, constables were crawling all over his house last night, looking for clues, but they didn’t find the killer. Even the sheriff was there.”
“I hope he got away,” Mistress Lowey said.
“I reckon he escaped on the river. That part’s quiet at this time of year. The toffs don’t go boating much once the weather turns, and the factories and port are further downstream. If I were the killer, that’s how I’d escape.”
Mistress Lowey chuckled. “I’d like to see you climb up a vine and slip through a window.”
Mistress Milkwood clasped her ample bosom in both hands. “I’d get stuck.”
Both women laughed.
