The cog out of Bruges carried wool, wine and enough dyed cloth to make Margot very happy. Even better, they yielded before Ryker could even draw his sword which had put him in a foul mood.
Cassia took the merchant’s tally from his captain and began to read.
“You’ve forgotten something,” she said to him.
The captain looked at her. Then at Ashton and Ryker, apparently uncertain which of them he should fear more.
“I’ve forgotten nothing, my lady.”
Cassia glanced toward the barrels stacked near the stern. “Six casks of wine are listed here. There are eight.”
Ryker immediately abandoned the bolt of blue cloth he’d been examining.
“Eight?”
“Eight.”
He looked almost delighted by the deception. “And here I thought we’d have a dull morning.”
The merchant began protesting in French. Cassia answered him in the same language making Ryker smile.
Whatever she said next wiped the smile from the merchant captain’s face. He stalked past her toward Ryker.
“She accuses me of deception twice over. The wine is a mistake in the tally, nothing more. And now she claims the Flemish cloth was entered at less than its proper measure.”
Ryker folded his arms while the man continued, his voice rising with every word. When he finally stopped, Ryker glanced toward Ashton, the hint of a smile returning.
The captain apparently mistook the look for encouragement. He turned on Ashton.
“Surely you can see the woman means to find fault where there is none.”
Ashton let him finish.
“I believe you were speaking to my wife about what you owe.” He nodded toward Cassia. “It’s she you need to convince.”
The man’s head snapped toward her.
Cassia was already waiting.
They resumed in French, the captain louder than before, Cassia answering him without giving an inch. Ashton watched her and remembered the first time he’d seen her aboard The Aldgate. Frightened, though determined not to show it. A book still clutched in her hand.
The woman before him bore little resemblance to her.
Her chin was raised now, one hand moving as she argued her point, the other resting near her waist. The captain was twice her size and angry enough that more than one man on their crew would have watched him carefully. Cassia appeared entirely unimpressed.
His wife.
Ashton had not yet grown accustomed to the thought. He hoped he never would.
Eventually the captain threw up his hands and stalked away.
“What did you tell him?” Ashton asked.
“That he could pay what he owes,” Cassia said, handing the tally back to Ryker, “or I could count everything again.”
Ryker laughed and said to Ashton, “You married very well.”
“I know.”
It was one of those rare, sunny days where everything was going according to plan. With rumbles from the north of McGarron’s prolonged illness and from the south where a new deputy warden had finally been named, Ashton was determined not to look for future threats for a spell and simply enjoy a run well made.
As Cassia discussed terms with the ship captain, her hand went to her belt with Leif’s token inside, the knife they’d trained her to use beside it.
One a promise of protection.
The other, her own.
A reminder of Leif. Of strength. Of belonging.
“Where to next?” Cassia asked.
To a place he never imagined she would choose.
“We set sail for home.”