Reuben had to admit, it was really impressive how fast Ayla could move when she put her mind to it. She was off him and across the room in a matter of seconds.

He turned and looked at her. Her smooth satin cheeks were suffused by a blush almost as deep red as the blood that stained the front of her dress, where she had landed on his bloody skin. He grinned at her, and in return she gave him a glare that could have made a general quake in his boots.

“Yes, you can come in, Burchard,” he called.

Her mouth dropped open in astonishment at his affront, which only made him grin wider.

A massive elderly man with thick, black hair and beard entered the room. He glowered at Reuben as if he was breaking the law just by breathing. The knight thought it best to turn to the wall again, but still regarded the newcomer out of the corner of his eyes.

“I see our guest has recovered consciousness—and insolence,” the black-bearded man grunted. “Who are you, if I may ask?”

Reuben was spared an answer by the girl. She stepped forward and said: “Burchard, can't you postpone the interrogation for five minutes? Can't you see that he's bleeding heavily?”

“I can. Actually, I’d hoped that fact might speed his tongue. Bandages are very hard to come by.”

Burchard's eyes narrowed as they focused on Reuben. That look told it all. Reuben realized that here was a man as hard as flint, who wouldn't rest until he knew every single little thing about his unexpected guest and had confirmed he was no danger. Not good.

“Burchard!” Ayla chastised the man. Reuben wondered what position he held. Adviser? Weapons master? “How can you say such a thing! Unless you can control yourself, leave immediately!”

“Tell me,” Burchard demanded of his mistress, completely ignoring her orders, “how that got on your clothing.” He pointed to the bloodstains that surrounded the delicate neckline of her dress.

Ayla turned a lovely shade of red again, and Reuben quickly looked away.

“I had to get the arrows out of him,” she said, sounding as if she were defending herself. “It got a bit... messy.”

“Messy, eh?”

With a grunt, Burchard dragged one of the chairs into one corner of the room and sat down astride it, all the while not taking his eyes off Ayla. “I think I'd better stay. Just in case things get messy again.”

Peeking, Reuben saw the girl roll her eyes. “Fine, if it makes you happy. Just don't get in my way.”

Ayla went to the table and fetched a bowl of water and some clean linen.

“Here.” She held out a linen cloth to Reuben. “I'll need you to press this on your chest, so that it won't bleed that heavily. Can you do that, in spite of the pain?” Despite the brusqueness of her voice, it wasn't an unkind question.

Reuben just nodded and pressed the cloth on his chest.

Ayla, meanwhile, began to methodically clean his back wounds. He was amazed that she still didn't seem deterred by his injuries. Now that the arrows didn't conceal the wounds anymore, they had to be a pretty grizzly sight, and bleeding heavily, if those on his chest were anything to judge by. Yet Ayla never hesitated, never wavered. Reuben could feel her small hands caressing his back through the wet linen—but no, he reminded himself, cleaning, not caressing. Cleaning.

“So,” Burchard grunted, “start to talk, fellow. I'm mighty curious about you. What's your name? Who and what are you?”

Reuben opened his mouth.

“He's a merchant, and his name is Reuben,” Ayla said.

“I didn't ask you!”

“No. And it was so rude of me to interrupt, since you asked so nicely.”

Reuben was glad he was turned to the stone wall, so neither of them could see the grin on his face. Perhaps he wouldn't have to worry about answering questions, after all. He could just quietly lie here and listen to those two bite each other's heads off.

However, he was not so lucky. Burchard just ignored Ayla's retort and returned his attention to him.

“So, Reuben. What would a merchant be doing out alone in the forest?”

Pensively, Reuben stared at the texture of the stone wall. What on earth was it that merchants did? They always seemed to be rich when he robbed them, and trying to get richer, but how did they do it? What did they do to get all their money?

“Looking for people to trade with?” he suggested.

“Wouldn't a market be a better place for that?” Burchard's voice undoubtedly contained traces of sarcasm.

“Well, that was where I was heading, actually. I was going to... Frankfurt with a few bags of rare spices, when I ran into this group of mercenaries. They demanded that I give them all my wares and become their prisoner.”

“And did you?”

“I probably would have,” Reuben said, slipping increasingly into his role. “After all, I'm just a cowardly, helpless merchant. What was I to do?”

“Yes, very helpless,” said Burchard, and Reuben could feel the man's gaze boring into him, examining the thick bands of muscles around his legs, arms, and torso. “And how exactly did you end up with three arrows in your back, helpless merchant, if you didn't fight?”

“I don't really know. Suddenly I heard screams, and these other men came charging out of the forest, attacking the mercenaries. They must have been robbers, I think. The next thing I can remember is waking up here.”

“I'm sorry, Reuben,” he heard Ayla's voice. He almost didn't recognize it, because her tone was so soft and hesitating for a change. “That must have been a terrible experience. I... I realize the things they did to you must hurt very badly. I'm doing my best to fix it as quickly as possible, I promise. I'd be quicker if he,” she shot Burchard a look, “didn't interrupt me all the time.”

“And that is all?” Burchard asked, not paying any attention to her.

Hmm... Reuben thought. Burchard still seemed skeptical. How to make them both believe his story? How best to play his role? Well, there was one way... “No, not really. There's one thing: you didn't by any chance find my wares, did you?”

“No, we didn't,” Ayla said. “I'm sorry. The robbers must have carried them off.”

Reuben sighed. “That is unfortunate. I guess, in that case, I have no choice but to demand compensation.”

“Compensation?” Now the girl's tone was suspicious. “From whom?”

“Why, from you, of course, Milady. After all, you are the lady of these lands, are you not? As such you are responsible for upholding law and order within your domain. May I not expect compensation when I am wronged?”

She gasped and her hands flinched away from his back.

“You... you... ungrateful piece of...” she stuttered. “I just saved your life today!”

“And I'm very grateful for that,” he said, in a pleasant voice. “However, if you had done your job properly and upheld law and order in your lands, there wouldn't have been any need to save my life in the first place, now, would there? But, as I said, I'm very grateful. If I now receive the compensation that is my due, I will have nothing to wish for.”

She uttered a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a growl. It was cute, and he couldn't suppress a grin, particularly when he heard Burchard's laugh and knew that his strategy had worked.

“All right,” the elderly man chuckled. “You really are a merchant. As for your compensation...”

“...We won't throw you out of the window,” Ayla finished the sentence. “How's that for compensation?”

He dipped his head, graciously. “Most generous, Milady. Exactly what I would have expected from you.”

Burchard sniggered again, and Ayla returned to washing Reuben's back, with considerably more force than before.

“Burchard,” she said, “be a good steward and go and tell Dilli that I will be needing another bowl of water. Don't worry about what will happen while you're not here to watch. I promise I won’t kill him—for now.”

Burchard grunted and went to the door. Apparently, he was satisfied enough with Reuben's story to leave him alone for the moment—a fact that would have pleased the knight considerably, were it not for Ayla's words.

I promise I won't kill him—for now.

Reuben's throat went dry because the words were all too close to reality for his liking. She could kill him at any moment, if she chose to. All she had to do was call her guards. In his weakened state, Reuben would not be able to resist them.

Yes, she could kill him—and she would, if ever she found out who he really was.

Angrily, he clenched his teeth together. How come he had almost forgotten that? How come he had felt relaxed, amused, even somewhat at home here in this castle, in this room? He was in the midst of his enemies! It was not like him to forget something like that.

It wouldn't happen again. She was his enemy. He had to remember that.