Brilliant Disguise

Chapter Twenty-Four

Although it had been a year since she'd been on the Long Lake, Sophie felt as if only days had passed since she lived there, in the drafty house with its leaky roof and rooms that all pitched to the left.

Roughly half of Esgaroth had been restored, and while none of the buildings were inhabited, according to both Thorin and Bard, Sophie knew she would find Sten and knew exactly where she would find him as well.

Their house had been at the southern end of Esgaroth, tucked between the fish market where Sten sold his catch, and another house and it was there that she stood, staring up at the new structure, finished save for windows. The scents of cedar and pine mingled with the cold, somewhat brackish smell of the lake water, and had she not been so nervous, she might have heard the gentle lap of the water against the new pilings and bulkheads. Instead, all she heard was the thundering of her heart.

A toolbox stood just to the side of the doorway, although the house had no door yet. Still, as she stepped over the threshold, she heard the sounds of someone moving about. The houses were all the same, the first floor was normally a mudroom of sorts, a place where oilskins, boots, winter coats and the like would be stored. A narrow staircase to her right would take her above, to the main floor. There, she would find a kitchen and great room combined, a small privy, and toward the rear of the house, two small bedrooms.

It took every bit of will she possessed to force her feet to obey and propel her up those narrow stair treads. As she emerged into the kitchen, she saw a familiar pair of boots in the doorway. Battered, scuffed, one held together with a strip of leather wound about it.

Sten's boots.

Of its own volition, her hand found its way into the small satchel she carried, her fingers curling about the knife handle. She slipped it free, drew in a deep breath, and called, "I know you're here."

"Why?"

Her blood ran cold at the familiar, softly menacing tone of Sten's voice. She'd learned that the greater his fury, the calmer he sounded, and while he didn't exactly sound calm, she was wary just the same.

"I could ask you the same."

"Come here."

"No." She tightened her grip on the knife. "You come here."

He appeared in the doorway between the great room and the short hallway that would lead to the bedrooms and she fought the urge to gasp at the sight of him.

Tall and handsome and blond and I thought he was utterly perfect. That was how she'd described him to Thorin and once upon a time, that had been true.

Once upon a time.

Now, however, Sten's once-handsome face was lopsided, no doubt from its meeting with her cast iron pan a year earlier. He bore distinct burn scars on his face as well, although, in a darkened alley to a frightened little girl, they might not have been noticeable.

"Surprise to see me, are you?"

"Why are you here again?" She took a step closer, but made certain to remain beyond his reach. "What do you want from us?"

"I want my wife. My daughter."

"Your wife and daughter. Don't make me laugh, Sten. You were going to kill me that night, weren't you?"

"I was wrong, my love. So terribly wrong."

"Do not call me that, for we both know it to be a lie. I don't believe you, not a single word of what you say."

"You should, for I speak true."

"No." She shook her head, trying to will her arms and legs to stop quaking so badly. She didn't want him to see any hint of fear for if he did, he would pounce. "You need to leave us alone, Sten. I want you to leave us alone. I want you to give me a divorce and go on your merry way."