Part 12 (1/2)

'I'm not ”his” woman,' said Arielle irritably. 'And, oh yes, he's very good at his job. Very popular. Slick Stefan.'

'It doesn't matter who he is, he can't treat you that way.'

She banged the table again. 'I know!'

Il-Eruk began calling from the kitchens.

Arielle gestured towards the bar. 'Duty calls.'

d.a.m.n! He leaned towards Arielle. 'Anyway, you gonna take my advice? Get shot of the Pres?'

Arielle frowned. 'I dunno. It's late and I've had quite a bit to drink.' She stood up, pus.h.i.+ng her chair under the tabletop.

'Fit!' came a rasping voice from the bar.

'Coming!' yelled Fitz, following Arielle to the door. 'Come here again tomorrow night. Drinks on the house,' he whispered. glancing over his shoulder. 'Let me know how you get on.'

She eyed him appraisingly from beneath a raised eyebrow. 'I might take you up on that.'

With that she pushed through the clattering doorway and into the rickety wooden corridors of Pierhaven.

Fitz watched her go, wondering if he should have offered to walk her home, wondering if he would ever see her again.

He did see her again. The very next night. She came in very late, wearing a figure-hugging red dress, and a frown the size of Scotland. By the way she floated up to the bar Fitz could tell she was the worse for drink.

'How did it go?' he asked gently.

Arielle's beautiful face bunched up, reddened, and she shouted a word that silenced the bar and made Fitz gasp in horror.

He wordlessly poured her a gla.s.s of whisky. She downed it in one go. Then she burst into tears.

All the customers had turned to look at her.

Fitz turned to Val, whose face suggested she had just popped the sourest boiled sweet in the universe into her mouth. 'So, yer girlfriend's back,' she growled.

'Val, take over for a sec. I need to speak to her.' Fitz turned away before Val could protest. and, taking the bottle of whisky, ushered the compliant, weeping Arielle to a private booth on the far side of the bar.

She sat opposite him, shoulders slumped. face wet with tears. Fitz wanted to reach over and hug her. Crying women always made him feel guilty and upset as though somewhere down the line it was all his fault.

Clearly not so, in this case.

Fitz hated this President guy for bringing her to this state. He'd seen him on the news earlier that evening. He looked a right smarmy git. He guessed Arielle didn't want to know his opinion of her lover, but instead needed cheering up. 'Good swear back there,' he said.

Her brown eyes flicked up at him, and down. There was the briefest of smiles.

Fitz began to feel uncomfortable. Should he tell her how great she looked in that dress? He remembered her litany of hate. 'He only likes me for the way I look.' Probably not. He settled for an uninspired, 'What happened?'

She spoke, not looking up at him. 'He took me out for a meal. Well, not out. At the b.l.o.o.d.y palace. He b.l.o.o.d.y proposed to me.'

Silence. The whole world seemed to recede to just him, the woman in the red dress, the whisky on the table and the bluegreen curtains of the alcove. 'Go on,' prompted Fitz.

'I turned him down. And I told him I never wanted to see him again.'

'How... how did he take it?'

She looked up at him then. Her eyes were like two golden jewels, bright, unattainable. 'He went mad. Violent. He scared me.'

Her hands reached out across the table. Fitz took them. He noticed a bruise starting to bloom on her forearm, the imprint of gripping fingers clearly visible.

He quickly looked up at her. Through choking sobs, she was saying something Fitz couldn't quite make out.

'What? What is it?'

She let go of his hands, wiped the tears away from her eyes. 'I did it. I'm free of him! Free of him.'

Fitz felt sh.e.l.l-shocked. He'd never had someone take his advice with such devastating effect.

She didn't want to go back to her rooms at the university that night, in case the President tried to contact her, so she slept in Fitz's room. Fitz slept in the kitchen, in the baleful presence of the dishwasher, the oven and the refrigerator.

The next day, Fitz got the morning off to help Arielle sort out her life. They left the tavern early and breakfasted together in the town. It was a bright, clear Jaquaia day, and Yendip was as serene and beautiful as ever.

Arielle didn't speak much over breakfast. She asked Fitz about his life, and he spun some tale about coming to Yquatine to find his fortune, and ending up working in Il-Eruk's Tavern. She accepted what he said without further questions.

After breakfast, as they walked along the esplanade. Arielle came to a decision.

'I'm leaving Yquatine,' she said as she gazed out at the wide green ocean. 'Today. Within the hour.'

Fitz stood beside her, trying to act casual, unconcerned, while his guts knotted and his heart pounded.

Now was his chance. He had to go with her. But how? What could he say? Could he tell her about the coming darkness?

She knew the President. She might have some sense of duty left, although she didn't love the man. She'd want to warn him. if only for the sake of everyone else on Yquatine. Fitz felt the colour drain from his face. Couldn't he warn the authorities? Let them deal with it? Pa.s.s on the responsibility? He was tempted. for just a moment, but then his doubts returned. headed up by the biggest and blackest of them all: what if the mere act of warning the authorities was the trigger that set events rolling towards the future he'd seen? what if the mere act of warning the authorities was the trigger that set events rolling towards the future he'd seen?

No. He couldn't. He had to think of something else. But his brain refused to help.

Something tickled his fingers, and he looked down with surprise to see Arielle's hand, finding his. He looked at her. Her face had a tight, concentrated look of worry. 'Fitz, all I have is the clothes I stand up in, and my credit card. I've packed some cases, they're back in my rooms. I can't go back there: I know Stefan, he'll have his people out looking for me.' She glanced over her shoulder, but the coast was apparently clear. Her hand squeezed his. 'I'm going to ask you something important. Can I trust you?'

Fitz nodded. 'Yeah. Yes, you can.'

Her eyes took on a veiled, distant look. 'You're not doing this just because you fancy me? Because if you are, then I'll do it on my own.'