Theda met me at the kitchen door and took the basket. I gave her a pointed glance and she dumped the contents into a wooden bowl on the table. Nothing but chestnuts. Except for a single slip of paper that I unrolled.
“You didn’t read it in the woods-“
“I didn’t get the chance,” I breathed, wiping my nose with my bare hand as I read, “I was interrupted.”
“By whom?”
I snorted, “Wolves. In various forms.”
The note from the leader of the cell of Resistance in our province was short and to the point. Despite the stinking presence of the Berchten officer in our home, I had sneaked out in the early morning to return the gun to where Edgar had found it. According to my brother, there had been quite a few weapons stashed in the musty cave by the creek. They were all gone by the time I made it. I hid the pistol with a short letter of explanation. It was a risk but the only way to contact them. Now I had received my answer. I crumpled it up.
“What does it say?” Theda’s dark eyes widened in the firelight.
I sighed and laid my hands on the table, recalling the cold words of the government issued letter from eight months earlier.
It is my painful duty to inform you that a report has been received from the War Office notifying the death of Lieutenant Sidney Roux, 20th Southern Cohort, on the 12th of February. The report is to the effect that he was killed in action.
His name and rank were blanks to be filled on the crisp sheet of paper. I wondered how many were written the same night by Sid’s superior after Sid was killed. Seven months since we heard about father and six since Regena officially surrendered.
“I have to do something about it,” I moaned, my stomach tightening as I glared up at Theda, “I can’t sit here every evening, I will run mad. There must be something I can do to help.”
“Do about what?” A deep voice asked behind me.
I froze. Theda glanced over at Lieutenant Gruber in the doorway. Casually, I lifted my hand with the scrap of paper and put it in my mouth. Swallowing it down, I turned towards him with a weak shrug.
“Rationing has become tougher on us in the south. I think I need a job.” I surmised, breaking eye contact with the handsome Berchten.
“Then get one.”
Theda shook her head and clucked her tongue, “The only job openings in the immediate area are at the pub in town. A daughter of the Roux family serving beer? Unthinkable.”
Gruber folded his hands at his back and edged into the room. He winked at Theda, “This is war, Mistress Theda, not a country social,” he met my eyes once more, “Lots of unthinkable things happen.”
I whipped back towards the table. My skin went cold as he came up beside me. Brushing a hand briefly over the small of my back, he scoffed as he eyed the bowl of chestnuts. Acid crept up the back of my throat in silent indignation.
“How lovely! Any crackers about?” He crowed, tossing one into the air.
“Best be waiting for winter, Lieutenant,” Theda answered stiffly, “We roast them on Solstice Eve.”
“Ah, quite right. We must get used to your quaint country ways and traditions. We plan on staying for a while," he meandered out of the room.
Theda shot me a death glare, “For the sake of your brother, not another word. You hear me, Georgiana? Not tonight at least.”
I shook my head as she left me to my thoughts. Agitated, I tapped my fingers on the table. It didn’t matter anyway. Apparently the Resistance had little use for someone like me unless it was a special circumstance in which they would contact me. Till then, I would have to suffer the smirking presence of a Berchten officer under my family’s roof. I was essentially hosting my brother’s murderer.
Picking up a couple sticks of firewood, I strode into the parlor where Theda was knitting at the table. Edgar shot up from the floor by the hearth and raced over to me in his pajamas. A grin flickered over Gruber’s mouth where he stood by the fireplace. He turned his chiseled countenance towards the flames.
“Georgie! Look at what the Lieutenant fixed for me!” Edgar exclaimed.
I took the slingshot from his outstretched hands, “I thought you had ruined this one for good last summer.”
“Me too! But Lieutenant Gruber said it just took a little patience. He had a pocket knife and let me hold it for a second before he mended it-“
“Now, Eddie. Don’t get me in trouble with your lovely sister.” Gruber chuckled, peeking over his shoulder.
It was nauseating how the man could pretend we were some kind of twisted, happy family motif. From the way he looked at me, I knew he had ulterior motives for this kindness to my brother. It was all a façade. Not that there weren’t more beautiful and willing girls in the village. The challenge to bed me was merely another chance for Berchten conquest.
“His name is Edgar,” I snapped, making my brother jump at my stringent tone, “Not Eddie.”
Edgar took the sling shot from me and inspected it quietly, “I like Eddie better.”
I swallowed a weak grin and rubbed his dark head, “Don’t shoot anymore chickens with that thing. Aim for empty bottles, understand?”
“Bed for you, child.” Theda bustled her ample form over and ushered the fussing boy towards his room.
The silence was stifling as I brought the wood over to the hearth. I tossed a couple pieces of kindling into the purpling tongues of fire at the hot center. Gruber perched an arm on the mantel piece, his jet boots gleaming.
“You were late getting back,” he commented casually, digging into his pocket, “I thought I was going to have to go out there and look for you myself.”
My mouth went dry. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and offered it to me. I shook my head and crossed my arms over my sweater.
“No thank you.”
He put one in his mouth and cupped his hand around his lighter, “What took you?”
“A pack of wolves.”
Gruber snorted a cloud of smoke, “Really?”
“Yes, they were hunting and I was alone. It’s not even winter and they are going hungry. Your men hunt too much.”
“My men need to eat.”
“So do the wolves.”
Pin pricks raced up my scalp as he studied me quietly, “So? Just the wolves?”
I felt like I was being interrogated. Perhaps I was. “And one of your goons.”
Gruber barked out a laugh and undid the top button on his uniform jacket, “The watch? Who was it now?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like him.”
“Domnin. Was it Domnin?” He checked his wrist watch, “Must have been. Sergeant Viktor Domnin from the city of Tyr. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, of course.”
It was the second largest metropolitan area in Berchta next to the capital. It was also the oldest with some of the most famed and beautiful clock towers on the continent. Tyr was known for its cold beauty high in the mountains and for its skilled clockmakers.
“He is a stone cold brute, that one.”
“His face is young.”
“Don’t let that fool you. He’s been here since the beginning. I’m surprised he let you off so easily. You wandering around in the mist like a ghost.” He met my gaze, his cognac eyes hemmed with thick lashes, “A pretty one at that.”
I clenched my fists and scowled, “Good evening, Lieutenant.”
Turning to leave, I wondered if getting a job, even a lowly one at the pub, would up my chances for getting in with the Resistance. There was no way I would be able to ride out the rest of the year with Maxim Gruber living under my roof and not do anything about it.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
