The Duchess Hoax (World of Jordinia)

Chapter 9: Elsi

NIGHT HAD FALLEN IN EARNEST upon the woodside shanty on the city's edge, where it turned out they'd be spending the night. There were two bedrooms on the second floor—one for the women, the other for the men—with a water closet in between. In the tiny washroom, Elsi had cleaned her hands, face, and the soles of her feet as best she could. She inspected her arms and clothing for any more shards of glass, and combed out her hair.

Wearing the plain linen nightshift she'd packed, Elsi lingered in the cramped alcove opposite the bedrooms, peering through the open window to the unkempt lawn below. Hugo and the woman who lived here, Ymelda, had been speaking out there for a long while. Sometimes their voices sounded angry, sometimes hushed, but Elsi couldn't quite make out what they were saying. She strained to overhear something, anything, of value.

No one had given her a straight answer as to who, exactly, Ymelda was—besides some kind of fortune teller—but her history with Hugo in particular was obvious enough. Elsi understood now, that there was more to the men than they'd let on. Ymelda had called Hugo a thief and a grifter. Was it true? Or was she only lashing out at him for apparently having scorned her?

The pair appeared deep in conversation now. Elsi wished their voices would carry just a bit farther. Standing by the windowsill pretending to count the stars wasn't enough. She would have to get closer somehow. She threw a backward glance over her shoulder, assuring the doors behind her remained shut, then leaned over, sticking her head out the window as far as she dared.

"...just like the last time," she thought she heard Ymelda say. "And all of the others—!"

Hugo hushed her. Elsi thought his tone sounded placating. Ymelda crossed her arms.

A deep voice at her back said, "Careful lest you fall."

Elsi startled. Her head thwacked the window. She yelped, clutching it.

"Sorry," said Sol at the same time she did.

"No, I am." She rubbed her crown, wincing. "I know better than to eavesdrop." She regained her vision, blurry at first. Then he came into focus.

The man was all brawn and no shirt. The door to the washroom was ajar behind him; she could see droplets of water on his massive shoulders, dripping from his dark blond hair that he'd wetted and combed.

He advanced on her. Elsi's throat closed up, as though an invisible hand were crushing her windpipe. Yet he only moved past her, to the window. He leaned out of it, assuming the same stance he'd just caught her in.

He'd left ample space beside him. Cautiously, Elsi approached him. She poked her head out the window alongside his.

"Just look at them," muttered Sol. "What are they plotting?"

Elsi watched the two silhouettes converge. She couldn't hear anything anymore, and wondered if they were still speaking at all. It was admittedly rather difficult to concentrate with a grown man's hot, hard arm crowding hers, his damp hair smelling strongly of clover and boiled water.

The shadows on the lawn embraced, then kissed, long and drawn-out.

Elsi felt the blood rush to her head.

"Pathetic," remarked Sol.

"Nauseating," she squeaked.

He ducked out of the window and so did she. At the same time, they made to turn, winding up chest to chest in the alcove.

Elsi flattened against the wall, letting him pass. Her breaths came shallower than normal as she watched him retreat.

"Sol," she called at his back, before she lost the nerve. He turned. "Are you a grifter?"