Bee Among the Clover (198 page)

A
RON was not alone anymore, not with Cate willing to help. She could
read. She knew the ins and outs of Londinium, and she’d be able to lead
him to Roman’s father. Roman loved him. It was still a wonder to him. He hadn’t even known his darkling’s real name until now. He’d known it
wasn’t Roman, but hadn’t given it much thought after Roman… Marcus
had refused to tell him.
Now he knew. Now everything was clear.
When he made it back to the inn, his belongings had been rifled
through, but nothing appeared to be missing. It wasn’t as if he had
anything of value, but he was doubly grateful now the letter had been in his pouch instead of his packs. He made his way back down the stairs and left a coin with the innkeeper. He didn’t notice the eyes watching him
from a corner table or the shadow that broke away and started following him back toward Cate’s. He was focused on one thing alone: his darkling.

inn and up the stairs. He thought his eyes must be deceiving him. Surely
he couldn’t be in Londinium. He would’ve heard rumors if a thane and his entourage had arrived. Not to mention the boy would have no reason to
come here alone.

He was about to follow him up the stairs to investigate when the boy
reappeared carrying several packs, and a wicked smile crossed the battleseveral packs, and a wicked smile crossed the battle
lord’s face. A runaway. He didn’t know what had possessed the fool boy to try to run, but it didn’t matter. This was his chance to get his position
back.

He started following him through the town, staying back at first, but
closing the distance when it appeared the boy was paying no attention to the activity around him. Even more foolish. What did Aethlyn care about

He watched from a small distance as the boy ducked into a shop, and when he didn’t reappear after a while, he asked a couple of questions regarding the owner. He could hardly contain his pleasure. A woman, the boy was staying with a woman. That was both amusing, considering how he’d spent his time at Wulfgar’s, and convenient. A woman couldn’t stop him.

His hand came up to touch the side of his neck. The mark was long gone, but he still felt it. This boy and his whore had cost him his livelihood. A slow smirk curved his mouth. It was only fair they help get it back.

Cate sighed, gesturing for him to sit. He did, unsure what she was going to say, but from the look of her, it wasn’t good, and his heart began to pound. She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “I’m sorry, it was nagging me earlier, but I didn’t remember until after you had left. Aron, there’s no easy way to tell you, so I’m simply going to say it. Marcus’s father cannot help you rescue him. He died not long after Marcus was taken. I’m sorry.”

Aron’s newfound energy drained from him. Well, that answered a few questions. His heart grieved for his darkling, who didn’t even know his father was gone. He was determined, though, that Roman’s hope wasn’t going to die as well.

Aron closed his eyes against the new wave of helplessness. “Tell me he at least searched for him,” he whispered, opening his eyes again to catch Cate’s nod.

“Aye, up until the moment he fell sick. It was over with rather quickly.”
Aron sighed in relief. That, at least, was something he could use to help shield his darkling from this new blow. Without Roman saying so, Aron knew how much the silence from his father ate at him. Aron rested his elbows on the table, dropping his head into his hands. “I feel so lost,” he murmured, hardly aware he’d spoken out loud.
Cate sighed, and her hand on his shoulder was warm. “There’s still hope. Marcus’s father was a powerful man. Perhaps bringing the letter before the magistrate might help. They could decide to pursue it.”
Aron sighed and lifted his eyes, but he wasn’t seeing Cate or her shop. All he could see was his darkling, standing on the bank of the river, watching him drift away. Flashes of the night of the Hunt filtered through his mind, the look in Roman’s beautiful dark eyes as Aron had made love to him, the scented softness of his skin as he lay curled against him in the dark. He missed him so much it hurt, to the point he more than halfwished he’d never left, that he was still there. Prisoner or not, he’d had Roman. Gods, it was hard to remember that wasn’t his name.
He smiled. Marcus Naevius Atellus. It was a beautiful name, very exotic and strong, yet at the same time musical and beautiful. Just like his darkling.
He blinked to find Cate watching him with an amused expression on her face and shook his head sheepishly. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” He focused back on the conversation.
Cate shook her head. “Your mind is obviously very far away. Come, I’ll show you where you can sleep. Tomorrow you can approach this tangle with a clearer head.”
Aron didn’t feel much like sleeping, and he thought it’d elude him in any case, but night was swiftly falling, and there was nothing he could do before morning. “Thank you, Cate.” He rose from the table, his eyes intent. “Why are you so willing to help me?”
Cate smiled ruefully before turning her back on Aron, leading him to a small room behind a curtain. It had a small fire and a cot, the accommodations spare, but Aron was grateful for them. “I understand your loss.” She paused, meeting Aron’s eyes, and he caught a glimmer of wistful longing in her eyes. “When you love someone and they return it, it’s a magical thing.” She smiled. “Good eve, Aron.”
Aron lay down, for a long time just staring at the roof, unable to slow his whirling mind. So much had gone wrong. There would be no aid from Roman’s father, and the chances of any other authority assisting were slim at best. He didn’t understand Cate’s willingness to help, but he was glad not to be alone in this.
He wasn’t a fool. He knew there was no way he could get to Roman alone. He had lived in that household and knew the security under which it was kept. What ate at him the most, however, was worry.
Worry that Roman had been found out, that Wulfgar knew his darkling had aided his escape and Aron wasn’t really dead. Even now, right this moment, Roman could be paying the price of Aron’s freedom, and it clawed at his gut.
His darkling was alone, hurting in one way or another, and that affected Aron more than his own loneliness and hurt. He’d find a way to get to him, find a way to free him. There was no other option.

A
ETHLYN had been watching for several days, gathering what he needed and studying their routines. He didn’t know who the woman was or how the thrall had come to be with her, but it didn’t matter. He’d have his prize and, when all was said and done, his reward.

Darkness had long since fallen, and he waited for some time after he saw the lights flicker out through the windows of the shop before stealthily moving in. He was a large man, but he made no sound as he slipped inside and past the narrow stairs he knew led up to the main living area the woman occupied. The thrall, he knew from watching, was bedding down in the back room, which only made the taking of him all the easier, as he didn’t have to worry overmuch about awakening the woman.

Silent steps led him into the small room, and he drew back the curtain separating it from the main area. Aethlyn drew out his dagger as he moved closer, smiling down at the boy who stirred restlessly in his sleep, his face drawn in pain. Oh, he didn’t understand the meaning of pain. Not yet.

Aethlyn clamped a large hand down over Aron’s mouth, watching as those clear blue eyes flew open before bringing down the hilt of his dagger just behind Aron’s ear. The thrall went limp again, and the displaced battle-lord paused, listening to see if those slight noises had stirred anyone.

Nodding, he quickly trussed the thrall up tight and wrapped a blanket around him, throwing the smaller man over his shoulder. It wasn’t far to the docks, and a boat was waiting for them. Once they went ashore, he could arrange for a horse. He was certain that Wulfgar would pay well to have the property he valued so highly returned to him unharmed. It was for that reason and that reason alone Aethlyn refrained from abusing him.