The streets were full of shouting as snows began to fall over the market. The crowds were bustling and yelling, calling over one another, maneuvering their baskets of goods over each other. It wasn't hard to discern two others making their way through the throng, nor was the shouting of several gypsies something to gawk at.
He pulled her into an alley and pressed her against the shadows as the man ran past them.
"I think we're safe," he breathed. "This way."
He led her out of the alley and through the market, wrapping his arm around her to try and shield her from the cold. He found them a barn for the night and made her a bed out of the hay, taking the cloak and scarf off of his shoulders and laying it over her.
"Try to sleep," he murmured.
"Will they find us here?" she asked.
"No," he lied, glancing out the doors. "Try to sleep, Adellade."
He stood watch over her, only moving to wipe the blood off his hand. He didn't have much of a choice once he had freed her. That gypsy had caught them...had tried to kill her…. He had to kill him-to protect her-to protect Adellade. It was the only way they would be free-the only way he could get her to be safe.
I got her out of there. I got her to safety and away from them, he thought to himself. That's all that matters. She may think me a monster because I killed a man in front of her, but she's safe now. That's all that matters.
They slowly made their way across the country on foot, with him stopping every so often to find work to feed them. It was simple enough: stay in a town for a week, find her someplace to hide, go out and work in the day, return at night, then move on before anyone got suspicious. He could find work anywhere. Everyone was always willing to pay to have someone do labor, haul supplies, build something….
He would work, finding himself dreaming up ideas in his head about how this thing or that thing could be improved…. He once had a man thank him for giving him warning about a beam that would soon collapse, saving his workers.
He went to collect his pay, seeing another man there as well.
"You!" the man barked with a heavy accent of some sort.
"Yes?"
"Your master here tells me that you are very good with things. Come work for mine, and you will have double the pay."
"I can't," he muttered.
"And why not? My master will pay you well for your services, will treat you to a decent meal-which you look as if you could use. What reason do you have to refuse?"
"I have mine." He bowed and collected his pay.
He took several turns to get to where he was going, often doubling back on himself as he did so. He sighed and glanced up at the sign before entering. He walked over to the bar and took a seat, eyeing her as she finished cleaning.
"She was starting to worry, you know, my boy. Kept wanting to go outside, and I kept telling her that you always stay out late doing some thing or another." Rosina laughed to herself as she swept the bar clean. "You make her worry too much, Erik! I've seen men come and go from here, yet you're the only one I've seen who can make a girl worry as much as she does."
"You know every man who passes through this town, don't you?" he asked, lowering his voice.
"My dear boy: if a man passes through this town without me knowing it, then he wasn't here at all. Why do you ask? Is there a man after your woman?"
"No." He shook his head, glancing over his shoulder to see that she wasn't looking. "It's not that, it's-there was a man-with an accent of some sort-who was trying to convince me to leave-to work for his 'master'."
"And you didn't take the offer?" she raised an eyebrow at him.
"I can't leave her, you know that."
She reached over and smiled, putting a hand on his cheek. "You need to find yourself a woman, Erik. I know a few good girls who would love to have a man like you. Even with your little mask."
"Rosina…."
"You live for two years in my inn, Erik, then I have every right to treat you like my son, and that means that as your mother, I am going to see to it that you have a woman on your arm. She is sixteen years old, Erik. You can only look after her for so long, and it's time you did some growing up, as well. By your age, all the men out there are finding themselves a woman! I will not have you be left alone, and neither will she."
He sighed, watching her as she cleaned up a table, chatting with the patron sitting there. He eyed her, seeing the way she had grown up, the dark hair falling past her shoulders, blue eyes alight, lips curling up into a smile as she talked. She stood and held the tray of glasses, maneuvering through the tables with the grace of both a lady and a dancer.
"You're back!" she greeted.
"I told you he was out late again!" Rosina pointed out. "See? Nothing to worry about, darling. Now, why don't you tell this young man to go out and find himself a nice woman."
She giggled. "You think I haven't been trying that for the past year and a half? All he ever does is either go out and work or read one of the books in his room! It's a wonder he has any place to sleep!"
He shook his head, sitting at the bar as other patrons filed in for the night.
"You know," Rosina muttered, leaning over toward him. "I was promised a violinist this evening, yet it would seem he's failing to show, and they're expecting a performance. It is such a shame, yet where am I to find someone to play for me on such a short notice?"
"I don't play," he muttered.
"The sounds from your room say otherwise."
He looked at her. "You're not leaving me an option, are you?"
"No I am not." She smiled, placing a violin in front of him. "Go on! They're waiting!"
He groaned and made his way to the stage. He tested the strings and sighed, lowering the brim of his hat.
She smiled, setting the tray on the counter. "Rosina!" she hissed.
"Yes?"
"How did you finally get him to play?"
"Simple: I told him they were promised a violinist, and one failed to show up."
"You didn't tell me there was going to be a violinist for tonight," she pointed out.
"I don't lie, Adellade." She winked. "I only said I promised one, I said nothing about asking around for one. He does have talent. Could make a fortune playing for the orchestras."
"He prefers to be alone." She sighed. "If he ever does plays somewhere, he'll be the one who designed the building and wrote the composition."
"With that talent? He could write an entire symphony and everyone would be in tears. He's already captivated them, and they hardly came for the music."
A man walked in, eyeing Erik as he played. She straightened as he made his way over to the counter.
"A drink, madame," he ordered, his voice thick with an accent.
"Of course." Rosina eyed him. "Adellade, be a dear and fetch this man a drink."
"As you wish." She smoothed out her skirts and returned with a glass, handing it to him.
He grabbed her by the wrist. "A pretty girl like you shouldn't be working tonight. At least, not serving these men."
"I have other girls," Rosina argued. "If you want one of them, then I suggest you move along."
"Adellade, was it? There can't be a nicer girl than you, and I've seen nice girls in the courts of Persia."
She twisted her arm free and picked up the tray, going to serve the other patrons. Erik finished much to the others applause and touched her arm.
"Did he-?" he whispered.
"I'm fine." She sighed and handed him a glass. "It was nothing."
He walked over to the counter and returned the violin.
"You play like that and earn your wages moving stone and lumber?" the man called out. "What kind of man are you to refuse a much better pay in a much better place?"
"A man who knows where he belongs." He straightened to face him. "I have my reasons for refusing you then, just as I do for refusing you now."
"You would do well in the courts of Persia. The Shah is always willing to hire a new musician-someone to entertain him. It will be worth your while, I can promise you that."
"I still refuse."
He stepped over to him. "I'll have you know that few have refused the Shah of Persia and lived to tell the tale."
"I still refuse," he repeated.
The man grinned. "We'll see about that."
He watched as the man left before his shoulders relaxed.
"Good thing too," Rosina muttered. "I have heard some strange stories about what happens in Persia. Things that should stay far away from here. Are you alright? Erik? Erik?"
"I am fine," he muttered. "It's nothing."
He sat at a table, staring at a glass as Rosina finished cleaning up for the night.
"What is it, darling?" she asked, sitting across from him.
"I have seen men like him," he muttered. "Men who will do whatever it takes to get what they want-men who will hurt to get what they want…. We need to leave-put as much distance between us and him."
"Erik…."
"You saw the way he looked at her!"
"And I run an establishment where those other women can do what they like feeling safe and secure-the same security that you and your sister have." She put a hand on his and he automatically flinched under her touch. "It's time you stopped living like there's a demon chasing after you. Give her a place to live, to be her own person for once, for you to act like the man you were meant to be."
"I-I'm not meant to-I mean, I'm…."
She sighed and stood. "A woman, Erik. By the end of the week."
"I have Adellade."
"You have a sister."
He walked into her room, pulling over a chair to sit next to her. He watched as she slept, seeing the moonlight reflecting on her hair. He reached out and touched her, smiling slightly to himself as he did.
"Erik?" she murmured.
"Back to sleep now, Adellade," he reassured. "Back to sleep." He stood.
"Where're you going?"
"I have someplace to be. It won't take long, I promise. I'll be back before you wake."
He took out an envelope and placed it on the nightstand for her to find before he left, closing the door behind him.