Page 25 of Roma Queen
Twelve
ZARA
I'm fully dressedand putting my socks on when I hear the sound of boots coming up the small set of steps that lead to thevardodoor. Pasha’s going to be miserable that I found a clean set of clothes in my pack and put them on, but even with the small fire I managed to get started in the grate I was freezing my ass off and couldn't wait any longer. There's a teasing reprimand on the tip of my tongue. I'm ready to give him grief for taking so long, but when thevardodoor opens ...
Oh.
The man standing in the doorway is not Pasha. I recognize him immediately, though. The worn, heavy, woolen coat with the sheepskin lapel is new. But the faded, threadbare, silk waistcoat and the pinstripe shirt beneath it are all too familiar to me, as are the brown corduroy pants he's wearing, which are soaked from the snow, the material darkened all the way up to his knees. His shock of silver hair is even more unruly now than when I first met him. He narrows his eyes at me, his mouth falling open as he sees me sitting on top of the blanket box, my foot half shoved into a sock.
“You,” he says in an accusatory tone. “How can it beyou?”
It's stupid of me really. The fox from the Midnight Fair with the cup game; I should really have put two and two together by now. Shelta even mentioned his name when we were talking, back at the fair. What were her exact words?“Hmm, yes. I suppose Archie does look like a fox.” Pasha's mentioned the name Archie numerous times since we arrived at the camp. Made it clear that we were staying in the man'svardo. There's been so much going on, though, so many different moving parts to this scenario, that I haven't really had time to fit any of the puzzle pieces together.
Archie's glaring at me like he's just seen a goddamn ghost and he's none too happy about the visitation. “If you've come to get that key back, I'm afraid I can't help you,” he tells me. “It's long gone. I traded it. I mean, I lost it,” he says. He doesn't seem too sure what happened to the key I left lying on the table with him back in the fair. Whatever happened to it, whether he does still have it in his possession or not, he clearly doesn't want to return it. So fucking weird. The whites in his eyes are showing as he takes a step back down the staircase that leads up to thevardo. If I'm not mistaken, the man is actuallyfrightened. I get to my feet, holding out my hands.
“Shit, I'm sorry. I haven't come back for the key. You can keep it. I came here with Pasha. He said you wouldn't mind if we slept in here last night. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. If you can give me a few moments, I'll get our stuff together and we'll be out of your hair.”
At the mention of Pasha's name, Archie's expression transforms into one of pure disbelief. “Pasha? He's here? And you're here with him?” He sounds pleased that the heir to the Roma people has found his way back to his clan. Conversely, he doesnotsound happy that he brought me back with him as his guest.
“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. “The boy's heart’s been pricked by a redheadedgadje. I knew there was going to be trouble the moment I saw that owl this morning.”
“I'm not here to cause trouble, I promise. We're trying to help. Sarah's been taken hostage by Lazlo. He wants Pasha to accept his role as king. If he does, then Sarah goes free.”
Archie shoves his worn coat back into his hips, placing both of his hands on his sides.
“Lazlo. Lazlo is alive? And he hasSarah?”
I should be used to the shocked reaction by now. It’s getting annoying having to explain this, though. A cold knot of guilt tightens inside me as I nod. “He also killed a little boy.”
The lines that bracket Archie’s mouth deepen as he grimaces. “The little boy you were looking for at the fair that night?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I'll be damned.”
Archie studies the floorboards in front of him, a deep frown on his face.
“What a mess, then,” he says. “What a complete fucking nightmare.”
Something occurs to me as I look at the old man, his eyes distant and unfocused as he presumably tries to process this information. “Wait. You didn't ask who Sarah was.”
His eyes snap up, piercing through me with an intense gaze. “I know Sarah. I know her true name. And I know why she changed it, too. I've been keeping tabs on her, off and on, over the years. Not this visit though. Not yet. I planned on going by her place next week.” He rubs his hand over his mouth as if he's trying to wipe the tension away from his face. I think he's going to say something more about Sarah's kidnap situation, but instead he says something completely unrelated.
“My coin. The cup you chose at the fair. The coin wasn't underneath it. It wasn't underneathanyof the cups. What do I have to do to get it back?”
“I'm sorry. Coin?”
“Yes. The game we played, littlegadje. The coin in the cups. When you walked away from my table, that coin went with you, one way or another. I'd like the opportunity to claim it back.”
“I'm sorry?” I pat my pockets, as if the damn thing’s going to be on me, here, in thevardo. “I don't have it. I watched you put the coin inside the cup and that was the last I saw of it. I promise.”
For a horrible second it looks like Archie's about to burst into tears.
“It was a silver dollar, right? What was it worth?”
Archie squints at me as if I just posed the question in a foreign language. His face then smooths out, his confusion melting away. “Oh, I don't know. Thirty dollars. Forty. Not much. It had sentimental value is all. And a Roma coin is worth a Roma favor. Not smart to go around losing things like that.”
Poor Archie. He looks genuinely distraught at the concept of his missing silver dollar. I really don't have a clue where it is though. I was severely annoyed by his theatrics back at the Midnight Fair. I hadn't really cared where the coin had disappeared to, only that he had seemingly tricked me. By rights, Ishouldhave asked for that key back. It was a weird thing to have to pony up as collateral in the first place. It was nothing. A simple mailbox key, completely useless to me now, but that really isn't the point.
