Bee Among the Clover (297 page)

T
HE trip for Aron was a blur. He slept when he had to, plagued btrip for Aron was a blur. He slept when he had to, plagued by visions
of Roman that his numbness concealed during his waking hours. He ate when he must and paid little heed to anything but his own misery. He didn’t know how long it took him to reach Londinium. Time was
meaningless, and it could’ve been a week or a decade, it mattered not.

The city was as busy and heavy with people as it was the last time, though this time he wasn’t overwhelmed or awed, just blank. He found his way to Cate’s shop without difficulty, which might have surprised him if
he was at all himself, but in the state he was in, he was simply grateful for it.

He tied his horse nearby and gathered his belongings before ducking through the doorway of the shop and glancing around with dull eyes. Cate
was hunched over a table with a mortar and pestle, concentrating on the
task at hand, and spoke without looking up at him.

“You can bring your things to the back room. You’ll be sleeping there for the duration. Then come back and we’ll talk when I’m finished
with this.”

Aron nodded and headed for the small room, stowing his packs
beside the narrow cot. For a second he sat down on it and raked both hands through his hair. This was so different from what he’d planned when he and Roman had left Wulfgar’s. They were supposed to be
arriving together, planning the best way to wheedle Cate into allowing
Roman to stay while Aron served his term with her. Instead, he was alone and would remain that way. Forever. The despair was overwhelming and cut through the numbness for an instant.

“Aron! Come here.”

His head snapped up at the sound of Cate’s voice, and he drew in a
deep breath. He had no choice, and he could almost feel the collar slipping around his neck again, closing tight and choking the life from him.

Whether she put one on him or not, the fact remained: he was enslaved, and without the one person who would make his captivity bearable.

“You said you wished to talk,” Aron said when he emerged and found the woman studying him. He was unable to keep the defensive edge from his voice.

“Aye,” Cate replied, setting her equipment down and wiping her hands on her apron. “You can start by washing your hands, then fetching some bread and butter. You’re not going to be of any use to me if you fall over from lack of food and sleep,” she said with asperity.

Aron gave her a sullen look, but he proceeded without saying a word. Cate waited as Aron forced some food down. When he couldn’t make himself eat another bite, he set the crusts aside and waited to hear what Cate would say. It didn’t matter; his entire life stretched out in front of him with nothing in it to truly live for. He was beyond the point of caring.

Roman was gone, back to Wulfgar where he’d always longed to be, and Aron had nothing—no home, no family, no love, just the realization of his own foolishness to keep him company.

Cate glared at him, shaking her head. “You, Aron, are a fool. You gave your life in exchange for your Marcus’s and didn’t even think to be sure he loved you as well before you did.” Aron straightened, indignation cutting through some of his self-pity. He glared at her, warning her silently to drop this subject, but if Cate understood his expression, she ignored it.

“Your Marcus walked away from you, did he? And you, foolish child that you are, assume he ran back to Wulfgar. Does that make it easier for you? To think that Marcus chose another instead of that he might’ve simply not wanted to be with you?” Aron flinched, fury starting to build, but before he could lash out at her, she shocked him to his core with her very next words.

“He didn’t, you know. Run back to Wulfgar, that is. He’s gone home.”
Aron’s eyes widened as he struggled to assimilate that information. Roman hadn’t returned to Wulfgar? He’d gone to Rome? He kicked himself for not thinking of that possibility. If that was true, if Roman hadn’t left him because he loved another, but for some other reason, then there was still hope. He could search Roman out, woo him if need be, win him as long as Roman’s heart didn’t belong to another.
His face broke into a wide grin, the sensation strange after weeks of depression. He jumped to his feet. “Cate, I have to go to Rome!” Surely, she would understand and free him from his duty here, at least long enough to find Roman and win him. Then they could both return here and Aron could finish out his term with Cate, however long it would be.
Cate shook her head, her mouth in a sharp line, and grabbed Aron’s wrist. “Sit down! You’re not going to Rome or anywhere else. Have you forgotten your oath to me? You’ll stay and you’ll serve me until I decide to release you.” Her voice was cold and her look hard. “You’re a slave now, Aron, just as your Marcus was.”
Aron stared at Cate in utter incredulity before trying to snatch his wrist back from her grip as rage rushed through him. Her fingers were as strong as iron, and after a moment he ceased trying and sat back down at the silent demand in her eyes. For the first time, he was frightened of her. It wasn’t enough to dispel his fury, which lingered in the back with all of the unanswered questions that seemed to follow her. How could he expect her to understand?
“Cate, please,” Aron said, trying to control the anger in his voice and barely succeeding, though he thought he hid the fear well. “I’ll come back. I promise. This is important.” He couldn’t imagine she had anything she really needed him to do. He had never met a woman so self-reliant; she much be a wicce despite her denial.
Cate frowned, and she released his wrist. “And your oath to me isn’t?” she demanded. “I gave you your chance. You knew Marcus loved you. You said the letter he wrote proved it. You were given the opportunity to go back and right things, and instead you mucked it up again. The both of you.”
Aron began to speak but subsided, fuming, at her warning look. It unsettled him; he couldn’t understand how she knew so much about them. He watched her as she got up from the table and returned to her workbench, picking up the mortar and pestle again and starting to grind herbs together. “You two obviously didn’t learn your lesson about not communicating.” Aron’s stomach sank. “Mayhap if you’d bothered to share your sacrifice for him or if he’d told you… bah, both of you. I quit my hands of it.”
“I trusted you,” Aron shouted, rising again in anger and frustration. “I thought you cared about me….” He bit back the rest of the words, futility clawing at him.
Cate looked up at him, surprise in her eyes. “Why would you trust me, Aron, or think I care? I am only interested in what you can do for me.” She shook her head. “No, you gave me your oath, and you’re not going to weasel out of it now. Perhaps if you cease sniveling and do a decent job I’ll allow you to write your Marcus in a few months. I doubt he’s going to go anywhere. This conversation is over. Go fetch me some more firewood.”
Aron swore under his breath and stomped out of the room. His apathy had disappeared, replaced with righteous indignation and frustrated rage. If Cate thought he was going to take his imprisonment without a fight, she was mistaken. He’d find a way to make her see reason. He snarled imprecations at the wood, at Cate, and anything else that came to mind. This wasn’t over. He was going to see Roman again, and he was going to get the chance to win him back. Aron stalked back into Cate’s shop, wondering what her next stupid errand was going to be.