Keeper of the Heart (Book 3 of The Fallen Gods Trilogy)

CHAPTER FIVE

"And here comes the company now, love," Kerr called out as Rafe swung open the cottage door and let it bang into the wall behind it.

"Gods! Not more friends, is it? That's all we need. I don't care what the hell the Prince wants. I've had enough of this," replied the exasperated female voice from inside.

"Not as much as I have," Rafe assured her. "Where's the wine? My nerves can't take any more of this."

"Starting already, Rafe? It's barely past lunch. That's early, even for you. And aren't you supposed to be hiding in the boat with the others? Kerr, what's he..." The woman's voice faded to silence when Jill stepped out from behind Rafe and into the cottage.

Kerr pointed at Jill. "Meleene, this is Jill. Try to make her feel at home." To Jill: "Don't bother reading her mind. You're not going to find much there." To Rafe: "I'll go get the others." The door shut behind him with a solid thud.

The woman named Meleene looked at a loss as she stood there, a dripping dishcloth in her hands. Jill had always considered herself average height—not particularly tall but not short either. Meleene stood a good half-foot shorter than Jill with masses of blonde hair pulled atop her head to lend her height. The makeup around her eyes and on her cheeks looked a little too bright, taking away from a not-quite-pretty-but-still-interesting face. She was young, but the makeup made her look hard and used.

At the same time, Meleene gave her an equally appraising look with her enormous blue fringed brown eyes. Once finished, she flung the cloth to the side where it landed with a splash in a basin of water. If the fling indicated her mood, Jill guessed disgust covered it.

"So, is this another one of the Prince's women?" Meleene questioned, wiping her hands on the apron she wore. Her voice was a little rough, as if she did a good deal of yelling.

"Not exactly. Brexten's got a lot less women hanging around than he used to," Rafe answered though the question had been directed to Jill.

Jill glared at him, annoyed when he made her sound like part of some extensive harem. "That's not how it is, Rafe. I thought we'd already covered this outside."

He said nothing, and they both watched as he plunked himself down in one of the four rickety chairs around a makeshift table. In fact, the whole cottage appeared makeshift, as if it had sprung up overnight. The walls were as gray as the weather and the sea outside. It gave the cottage a dismal aura. The cottage itself had only two rooms with the sparse furnishings consisting of a bed, a stove, a scuffed wooden bureau, as well as the tables and chairs. The fact that everything smelled vaguely like rotting fish made the hovel seem that much dingier.

"If she's one of the Prince's women, what's she doing here then?" The blackness of Meleene's mood permeated the air.

Jill found her frustration increasing exponentially. "I'm not some—"

Head in hands as if exhausted by the whole ordeal of listening, Rafe barked, "Meleene, this is Arianie's Chosen. Brexten—your Prince, which I shouldn't have to remind you—specifically wants her taken to Mauti Isle. If you have a problem with that, take it up with him."

Meleene blanched and eyed Jill more cautiously.

"What about that wine?" Rafe reminded her. "Or did you forget?"

"Do I look like your maid? You know where it is so get it your damned self," Meleene sniped. "I don't need to listen to this. All these demands! All this stress! I can't take it! I don't even want to take it! I'll be outside with Kerr if you remember where you misplaced your manners."

And with that, Meleene flounced outside into the wintery weather—without a jacket or a shawl—leaving them alone.

"You didn't have to mess with at her or make me look like a bad guy. It's just as easy to be polite as it is to be an asshole," Jill said.