Lila's Wolf (Out of Time Book 1) (5 page)

There was too much in my head to allow me to sleep at the moment. Thoughts of Jared. Memories of last time. I rolled onto my side and peered at Marc sitting up in bed. “Why did you train to be a
ghardian
?”

His eyebrows lifted and he ran a hand through his hair. “I believe in justice, which is why I became a soldier. But I trained as a
ghardian
because I wanted to specialize in time jumping.” His hand strayed down to tug at his beard in a brief, uncomfortable gesture. “I grew up when the jump process was being developed and, right from my earliest memories, I wanted to try it. I learned all about the runaways and how their selfish actions can jeopardize the timelines. I like fixing mistakes, I guess.” Dark eyes smiled down at me. “So, why did you become a historian? And why this period?”

“The official answer is that my family group were all trained as historians. Between them, they manage and administer archives around the world. But like you,” I found an answering smile of my own, “I was hooked on the idea of jumping.”

“And this period?”

“This period, the Dark Ages, is one of the least-known eras in our Archive. If I’m going to be a historian, I want to have a specialty, to make a name for myself.”

“Ambitious.”

My cheeks warmed. “A little.”

His hand shifted away from his beard and dropped to rest on the pile of fine wool blankets. I wondered how it would feel to slip my hand in his, as I’d done with Jared. Would he be shocked? Annoyed? Or just plain embarrassed? I cast around for something useful to say. “What do you suggest we do next?”

“After a good night’s sleep?” He was teasing me. “Our best option might be to talk to the servants and slaves.”

“The non-Saxons. You know, it was the oddest thing.” I pushed myself to a sitting position, my brain racing ahead while I tried to formulate the right words. “There was a slave watching me at dinner.”

Marc shrugged, waited for me to elaborate.

“Well, don’t you see? They keep their eyes down. They’re not allowed to look at the free men, but he stared at me. Openly.” Though I hadn’t been able to see his eyes, there was something about him, the tilt of his chin, a hint of pride in his stance, all achingly familiar.

“Marc,” I murmured, as a new possibility blinded me. “What if Jared was taken as a slave?”

Jared

As soon as Hilde was settled for the night, he’d try to find Lila. No matter that he’d be beaten if he were caught sneaking around. Freedom now lay tantalizingly close. He could practically taste his escape.
My name is Jared, and I will soon be free
. He often ran errands for Hilde. If he were caught, he’d use that as an excuse.

At least she didn’t want sex again that night. Tired from a heavy dinner, she wanted Jared to bathe and oil her feet, and then brush her hair, before she finally settled in bed. He stood waiting to be released, trying to rein back his impatience, concentrating on keeping still and giving nothing away. All the while thinking of Lila.

He’d not known for certain that she’d made it to the jump site. He only knew that sending her with the soldiers had been her best chance. The messenger for Flavius had brought devastating news—the village had been burned to the ground. Jared didn’t care what the Archives said. The raid might have been insignificant, from an Archivist’s perspective, but it was vital to him. The innkeeper and his heavily pregnant wife. The children that played around the smithy. Flavius’ younger brother. All gone.

In that danger filled, terrifying moment, one thing had taken priority: getting Lila to safety. She’d had a damaged ankle, couldn’t ride fast enough, and the Saxons would catch her. The Romans had been a blessing. He’d wanted to fall at their feet and thank them, while handing over his purse and begging them to take his
sister
. When Flavius charged back to the village fuelled by grief and fury, it would be a suicide raid, but one that might buy Lila some more time.

He should have expected her to argue with him. That was one of the things he loved about her, after all: that she constantly challenged him. It’d been hard enough trying to break her heart, to make her go willingly. Firing the stunner into her arm and seeing the stark bewilderment on her beautiful face had come close to breaking him. After that, for a while, he hadn’t cared if he lived or died. Fighting the Saxons, being captured, watching the group of rebels being executed…he’d been next to go and he’d been fine with that. By a fluke of nature, they’d spared him. His odd colored eyes, looked down upon in his own time, had saved his life when the young Saxon had claimed him: “A prize for my grandmother. This can be her new wolf.”

Hilde regarded him through half-closed eyes. “You can go now, boy.”

“Mistress.” He inclined his head, already turning on his heel, eager to be away. Her hand shot out and grasped him tight around his wrist, the fingernails digging in like claws.

“And, Wolf, I’ve heard rumours I don’t like.” He stood completely still, not daring even to breathe in case she saw the suppressed excitement on his face. Had Lila been asking questions about him? Did Hilde know they would be rescuing him? He waited, unable to do anything else.

“I’ve heard Rowena has showed an interest in you. Is this true?”

Fuck
. Damned if he said anything, damned if he didn’t. He licked his lips and tried to think of a diplomatic answer. “If this happened, mistress, how would you have me respond?”

The claws dug in farther. “I would remind you that you’re mine, and your first loyalty is to me. If not for me, you’d have been executed.” Her eyes bored into him. “I can see why you may be tempted by Rowena, but she is the wife of my son. Even I would not be able to protect you from his wrath.”

He blinked.
Not the answer he’d expected.
Her grip loosened, she patted the back of his hand and released him. “There is a leftover honey cake on the platter, if you would like it. Go now, Wolf. I will expect you in the morning.”

He slipped quietly from her room, the sweet smelling honey cake encased safely in his hand, but stopped dead just before tripping over one of the children. The young girl, Kai, was crouched beside the door and sprang to her feet when he appeared. She was no more than twelve years old. It killed him the way they treated the children. It was bad enough for the adult slaves, but to use little ones in the same way…it was a harsh world. “I have a message for you, Wolf.” She rubbed her grimy face with a dusty hand. She looked tired enough to fall asleep where she stood, and Jared felt a wave of protectiveness toward the mite. He nodded for her to continue.

“You must go down to the stable block, now. A lady waits to see you.”

His mouth fell open, before he remembered to clamp it shut again.
Lila
. It had to be Lila. Excitement surged, and he sucked in a joyful breath. “The stable block?” Kai nodded. This was it, his ticket out of here. He couldn’t hold back his grin, probably the first real smile since he’d ended up there, and Kai stared at him, a wary expression on her face. He remembered the honey cake and presented it to her. “Go on. You can have it.”

Her eyes widened. Slowly, as though expecting it to be lifted away, she extended one grubby finger to stroke the top of the sweetmeat, and then stared at him again. He nodded. It was the least he could do, to repay her for bringing this message. “Thank you, Wolf.” She snatched it, devouring it in seconds before turning to run away down the corridor.

He knew how to dodge the guards on the doors and which exit to use, and a few minutes later he crept across the dark yard, circling round the moonlit patch to avoid detection. He peered through the open doorway. Horses surrounded him, most of them sleeping, while he picked his way through the stalls, heading for the central area. He’d sat here a few hours earlier, to polish the harness, and re-polish it after it’d been dirtied again. Pausing, he let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He could make out a figure in the far doorway: petite, long robe, hood. Female.

His heart pounded against his ribs as though he’d run across the fields, and he wanted to shout and punch the air in delight. This was the moment he’d dreamed of. He took a second to savor the anticipation. He stepped into the shaft of moonlight and paused as she turned to him, the hood rustling over her hair.

“Lila.” His voice croaked on her name. His chest felt warm and,
Jesus
, he had tears in his eyes. “You came back for me.” He moved forward another pace and another, and then ran the final steps to halt just inches from her. “
Lila
,” he breathed, raising a hand to push back her hood. A fraction of a second too late, he realized his mistake.

“Lila?” Rowena’s voice snapped like a whip. Oh no.
Dear God, no
. “Tell me, Wolf. Who is Lila, and why would you be meeting her here?”

Lila

Marc considered my suggestion and nodded. “It should be easy enough to find out. I’ll ask one of the house slaves.” He stood and stretched, rolling his head from one side to the other as he yawned. “Will you stay here?”

He had to be joking. “I’ll come with you. We can pretend to be looking for the kitchen.”

The night was still young, and the house bustled with people: servants and residents, slaves and guards. With my arm tucked through Marc’s, we strolled along as though we had a destination in mind, chatting quietly while we walked through the maze of corridors. I recognised a face. “Marc,” I whispered, “that’s one of the slaves that served us at dinner.”

The young man wore a coarse, stained tunic and the iron collar that all the slaves were forced into. He ignored us as we approached, intent on his task, stacking wooden platters together to carry in a teetering pile, presumably back to the kitchen. He jumped when Marc spoke to him and trembled when he turned to face us.

Younger than I expected, barely out of childhood, he was painfully thin. His pale eyes flashed left and right before dropping to stare at the floor. “Master,” he whispered, his voice unsteady, “how may I serve you?”

Marc drew him into a doorway, out of sight of the guards. “I’m looking for someone and I think he may be a slave here. His name is Jared.”

The boy shook his head, still averting his eyes. His hands twisted together, fidgeting constantly.

“He would be older than you, with dark hair and odd colored eyes, one green and one blue.”

The boy tensed. His hands stilled, and he peeked up at Marc for a second, interest flashing across his face, before bending his head again. “Wolf. He’s called Wolf. He serves the lady Hilde.”

It felt as though I’d been hit on the head.
Jared was a slave
. I couldn’t think straight. All this time I’d imagined him free and happy, living a wild life as a rebel. Dear Lord, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He’d been there at dinner, and I hadn’t known. My lungs tightened, and I forced myself to take a deep gulp of air. I had to say something. “Thank you,” I blurted, reaching out to touch his arm. “What is your name?” He flinched and stiffened when my fingers brushed across his skin.

“My name is Connad. Please, master, may I go now?” He scurried away as soon as Marc said yes.

We made our way outside, walking slowly as I tried to adjust to this new reality. My plans were useless. Yes, he’d abandoned me—
sacrificed me
—but as for the price he’d paid in return? It made me sick to think of it. We had to take him from here, no question about it. But I’d no longer argue for him to be punished as a common runaway. The usual sentence was ten years in the penal colony, but even at its harshest, it was a holiday compared with life as a slave.

“I’ll send a message back to the
ghardians
.” Marc’s composure settled my nerves a fraction. “We need a squadron to come and assist with the retrieval. I’ll find a quiet spot and transmit tonight.”

Jared

In a split second, Jared considered and discarded several alternatives: restrain and subdue Rowena while he searched for Lila…kill Rowena and search for Lila…pretend ignorance…or tell her the truth. He could do none of those and yet he had to protect Lila somehow.

He feigned disappointment. “Mistress, I must apologise for my familiarity.” He dropped his eyes and made sure his hands were loose at his sides. Submissive. “
Lila
is a term of endearment in my native language. I was happy that you wanted to see me again so soon.” Thank God for the low light in the stables. One close look and she’d see the naked terror crawling across his face. It was a miracle his voice didn’t shake more. His palms were so moist and clammy, he expected them to drip.

She paused, her arms crossed and foot tapping the dusty floor as she made him wait. He’d kick himself for this later, but right now he had to stay calm.

“On the ground,” she snapped, and he scrambled to obey, his body frozen, tension rippling through every muscle. Kneeling before her, he waited for the next command. The foot on the back of his collar took him by surprise, but he didn’t resist and pressed his face onto the floor. Hayseeds clustered in his nose and eyes, and he concentrated on not sneezing, on holding the position for Rowena.

“Lick my feet, slave.”

The pressure on his neck released, and he contemplated again if he could knock her out and keep her hidden while he found Lila and escaped. Even as he thought it, he knew it was futile. Rowena would have her personal guard nearby. Slowly, he lifted his head and extended his neck, his mouth an inch away from her jeweled slipper. One long lick up the center of her foot, almost to the ankle. Her giggle reassured him. This situation could be retrieved.

“Do it properly. Take off my slipper and try again.”

O-kay.
Using one hand around her ankle and one on the slipper, he wriggled her foot free, and then guided it to his mouth. A moment of distaste. Realisation that he’d done far worse already. He closed his mouth around her big toe
. Think about eating grapes, instead.
Firm but tender, sweet and succulent on the tongue.
He lapped and licked his way along her toes, tickled the underside of her arch, and gave a playful nip to her heel before starting on the other foot.