Snow was melting on the shoulders of his coat. Beneath it, he wore civilian clothes. He hadn’t shaved yet, and a smear of ash or dirt darkened one side of his jaw. His ponytail was in disarray, long strands of blond hair falling out of the waxed cord that tied it back, and dust covered the legs of his trousers. I’d never seen him looking so disheveled outside of combat. He was usually very fastidious; it was one of the traits he and his cousin had in common.
“Good morning,” I said, looking away again. Looking at him made my chest tighten and my stomach hurt. He had no right to be so handsome.
“It’s afternoon.” He glanced past me. “If you opened the shutters, you’d know that.”
“I’m still not used to windows.” I limped back into the examination room and tucked the reports I’d been writing into my satchel. My hands shook, so I kept my back turned to him. I wondered if I should have sent Caro and Jack away. There was safety in numbers. “Would you mind picking up the lamp?”
“Where are you going?”
“To my office.” I looked over my shoulder as I buckled the satchel. “Unless you want to talk in here. But it’s warmer in my office.”
His jaw tightened, signaling impatience. Then he stepped past me and picked up the oil lamp. “Go ahead.”
I felt safer as soon as I sat behind my desk, even though I knew the sensation was illusory. Droit draped his greatcoat over one of the visitors’ chairs and stood close to the fire, warming his hands. His clothes were as smudged and dusty as his face. No sign of blood, though, which meant he hadn’t been in a fight.
I made sure my steel letter opener was on top of the desk, within easy reach, and kept my crutches close.
“Have you finished your rounds?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He turned and scowled at the expanse of wood between us. His green eyes flashed as he looked up at me. “If you’re going to hide behind that desk, I’m going to sit on top of it.”
I pushed my chair backward as a reluctant concession. He shook his head and walked around to my side. I glanced nervously toward the door as he leaned against the desk, looking down at me as he pulled the rest of his ponytail loose. Now he was close enough to stop me before I could grab the letter opener.
My palms started to sweat. I rubbed them on the legs of my trousers and waited. His positioning was a power play; I knew that. My next move would be to stand up — to try to put myself on more equal footing with him. I didn’t bother. I’d need to use my crutches, and he was taller than me, anyway.
“Last night you said I needed to think about why I was wasting my time on you,” he said at last. I swallowed.
“Yes. More or less.” I took a deep breath and looked up at him, waiting. “Did you?”
His eyes narrowed. Firelight played over one half of his face.
“Ever since I moved to Cislunar I’ve had my pick of pretty idiots who want to brag that they’ve shared my bed. I thought you were one of them.”
“A pretty idiot?” I asked, my voice tight. I glanced at the letter opener, knowing that he’d see the glance but unable to help myself. “That seems … unlikely.”
“Shut up and let me talk. I made a mistake. I knew you weren’t an idiot, but I treated you like one anyway, because you’re afraid of me, and I like that.” He reached over and picked up the letter opener. I flinched. He paused, then handed it to me hilt-first. “But I’m not Yzyrchye’s Hound anymore. I’m better than that. I don’t need — I don’t need my friends and my family to fear me.”
He paused, but I kept my mouth shut as I took the letter opener from him. He drew in a deep breath, lifted his chin, and continued.
“I want to start over. If you’ll let me. Because I do respect you. I like having someone around who isn’t an idiot. You’re never a waste of time. So, if you’ll warn me whenever you see me lapsing into the Hound’s bad habits, I’ll — I’ll work on my self-control.”
I looked down at the letter opener, turning it over. I’d already seen how desperately Droit wanted to free himself from Yzrychye’s influence. This was the first time he’d given any indication that he understood how badly that influence had warped his relationships with others. Friends and family. Saying that must have taken him some effort.
The wood in the fireplace popped and sizzled. Droit shifted, leaning over to rest a hand on the desktop, his face a foot away from mine.
“This is an apology, Axton. I’ve apologized about three times in my life, so some acknowledgement would be nice.”
I looked up. His expression was serious and his long blond hair fell over one shoulder like a curtain. He was gorgeous, and he wasn’t angry at me, after all. I bit back my first response and forced myself to take an emotional step back.
After all, I reasoned with myself, he had just asked me to call him on his bad behavior.
“Are you sure that was an apology?” I asked. He gave me a blank look, then straightened up with an irritable huff.
“I’m sorry, Axton,” he said, scowling. “I apologize for my bad behavior last night.”
Better, I thought, as I nodded. Even though now he might be a little mad at me.
“Thank you, General.”
“Tegeus. Call me Tegeus.”
“You weren’t entirely wrong last night,” I continued, ignoring his demand. I wasn’t certain I was ready to use his first name yet. I would have to think about it more later. “I did initially have ulterior motives for befriending your cousin. And I’m writing another paper about you. I know that complicates matters.”
His gaze didn’t waver.
“Does that mean you accept my apology?”
“I — yes.”
He smiled, and despite myself, I found myself smiling back.
“You should do that more often,” he said, watching me. I blushed and looked away.
“Now you’re trying to embarrass me,” I stated.
“When I decide to embarrass you, I’ll be much less of a gentleman about it.” He held out a hand. “Now, get up.”
I let him pull me out of the chair, taking a split-second’s guilty pleasure in the warmth of his hand before I released it to grab my crutches.
“Why?” I wondered if he were going to kiss me. I was almost certain that I was psychologically ready to deal with an apology kiss. I was willing to try, anyway. Instead, he picked up my coat.
“I’m going to test your patience one last time,” he said, holding it out. More disappointed than I was willing to admit, I let him help me pull it on and waited as he put on his own coat. “I have a present for you.”
I froze as I abruptly realized why his clothes were so dirty.
“No.”
“I told you last night that ‘no’ wasn’t an option.”
“You didn’t move me. Not without my permission.”
“You gave me permission several days ago, remember? I told you I’d find you a new flat, and you agreed.” He reached out and grabbed my arm, and despite myself I drew in a sharp, frightened breath. “Trust me for once, dammit. It’s a nice place. And I didn’t move you in with me. As per instructions.”
I bit back all the objections that leaped to my lips. I hadn’t given him permission, not exactly, but neither had I forbidden it. And he had warned me last night that I’d be moved out today. If I’d wanted to protest, I should have done it last night. I just … I hadn’t thought I’d need to, after our argument.
“It’s not in Parkside, is it?” I asked with trepidation. Parkside was where he lived. He laughed, his grip loosening.
“You’re earning a good salary, Ichabod, but not that good.”
He’d relocated me three blocks away from the hospital, procuring two rooms on the second floor of an old converted house. The landlady met us at the door and gave me a sharp once-over.
“You work in the hospital, Mister Axton? And you’re Nobilis Aronson’s private physican?”
“Er, yes, I suppose so….” I leaned on one crutch and shook hands with her. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
She stepped inside. My borrowed clothes must have been good enough for this part of town.
“Your friend here says you’re a scholar and a medical man. I keep a respectable house, Mister Axton, very clean and quiet. You won’t have any problems pursuing your studies here.”
“Thank you.” I glanced at Droit, who looked smug. I could tell he was enjoying himself now that he felt in control again.
The landlady gave me the keys to the front door and my rooms, and let Droit show me the rest of the way up. He opened the door with a flourish. I stared.
“You didn’t move all of this yourself. Not in one day.”
“The rooms came furnished.” He strolled inside. “And you don’t own that much. I hired a wagon and got it all in one load.”
The two-room flat was small but more welcoming than anything I’d ever been able to call my own before. The front room was dominated by a large fireplace, a small table, and four chairs. Droit had put my books on a low wooden bookshelf under the window. He’d alphabetized them by author instead of organizing them by subject, but I could fix that later. The back room had a real bed in it; not the boards and crates I’d been using in the cellar. My clothes were folded and stacked on a small chest in one corner.
The apartment looked real. It looked like a place where a normal person would live.
“Can I afford this?” I asked, my voice faint as I ran my hand over the tabletop.
“You can’t afford Parkside, but you can afford Southgate with money to spare. I asked Elliot to check your employment contract for me. He says you’re making more at the hospital than Lorencz makes as a captain of the Watch.” Droit dropped into one of the chairs by the fire, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “Get used to it, Axton. You’re a respectable citizen now.”
“What about my specimens? I need—“
“I’ll have them delivered to the morgue tomorrow. Did you forget about that the body we found in the warehouse? It was still in your old rooms. In pieces.”
“It was frozen, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but …” He paused. “You’re not going to be able to anatomize bodies in your rooms anymore. This is a decent household.”
“Yes.” I sat down, across from him, and leaned my crutches against the wall. “Yes, it is. Thank you for finding it for me.”
“You’re welcome.” He looked around, then glanced back at me, pleased with himself. “It’s much more suitable for a tryst than that filthy cellar.”
I nodded absently, still grappling with the idea of living like a respectable citizen. And with being paid more than Lorencz. How had that happened?
“Your landlady says she has three other boarders besides you, and she serves breakfast and supper downstairs for an extra fee. I suggest you pay it — you’re too thin. She has some other rules, too. I like the one that says bachelors can’t entertain women in their rooms. That’ll cut down on my competition.”
“What if Captain Lorencz wants to visit me?”
“You’ll have to stay in the front room. It’s safer there, anyway. More escape routes if she starts throwing balefire.”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“She might if she found out you and Elliot were sharing romances.” Droit leaned over and pulled a book off the shelf, brandishing it. “The Curse of House Recardinate. Elliot’s name is on the inner cover.”
“Yes … he lends me books, sometimes.”
Droit flipped through it, pausing as a passage caught his eye.
“’Her breath caught as he slid his fingers beneath the silken laces of her bodice. With a small moan of protest, she tried to pull away. His mouth ruthlessly silenced her, his relentless tongue sliding between her lips as he backed her against the parlor wall.’ Hmm.” Droit looked up, his green eyes glittering. “Does Lorencz know her fiance reads this kind of smut? And shares it with you?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, suddenly wary. “But Elliot isn’t obliged to tell her everything he does.”
And, in fact, he didn’t. Just last week I’d advised him to talk to Captain Lorencz about his side business before their wedding. I was fairly certain he hadn’t taken my advice yet, though, because I expected Lorencz to be quite vocal about it once he did.
Droit had fallen silent, reading to himself and smirking.
“So, is this the sort of thing you like?” His sidelong glance smoldered. “Should we play ‘count and valet’ someday?”
I flushed, my imagination conjuring images that made me shift position in my chair.
“Does Nobilis Aronson know about this flat?” I asked. Droit gave me a sly look but set the book down. He was feeling in charge again, and he could afford to be magnanimous.
“No. I was in a bad mood this morning, and I didn’t stick around to talk.” He pulled out his pocket watch, opening its leather case and checking the time. “Let’s take a coach to his house. I’ll drop you off before I go home. I need to change before I go on shift.”
I looked at him, registering the golden stubble on his cheeks again.
“Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
“Not enough.” He stood and handed me my crutches as I got up. I slid my new keys into my waistcoat pocket, my fingers brushing the Banishat rings. For a moment guilt swept over me. Later, I promised myself, reaching for my coat.
Droit was looking around again, a half-amused, half-chagrined smile on his face.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself, Ethelbert. Nobody but Yzyrchye has ever whipped this dog into submission before.”
“You should probably stop referring to yourself as a dog,” I advised, picking up my satchel. “And please stop trying to guess my name.”
“What about the whipping?” he needled.
“I do like you better when you’re submissive,” I confessed, and felt a moment’s satisfaction at the choking sound he made behind me.