Hidden Truths - Ethan

9 - The Frog

Her look travels down to her hands fidgeting around with her fingers. I'm not a very patient person. "It's either now or when I finished my duties," I simply tell her and she finally starts to speak again.

"You said, I won't be able to use my arm for a while...," she looks shyly through her eyelashes at me.

I nod otherwise emotionless.

"... this means I will not... I mean... I won't be able to... work." Her cheeks turn a soft pink.

I nod once more.

"I... need that money, Sir. I can't lose this job. If I don't show up for my next shift they will replace me...," she tells me her concerns and I can see that there are tears forming in the corner of her eyes. Actually, I didn't take that into consideration; how stupid. I should know better what money and foremost honest work could mean to someone.

I'm the commander of the guards for so long that I haven't cared about money since the day we settled into that building. I get a personal payment and some of that money directly gets back as rent for my room, but I actually lost track of my account a while ago. That little opium or clothes I buy when I need some are rare occasions and there is not a lot I desire in general.

I think for a moment and then I nod once more. "I will take care of that. What's your last name?"

She raises her head and stands in awe of me. "Really?" She waits for another nod.

"I hurt you, so I will make sure you can continue your life after you are healed again. Are you able to read and write?" still looking at her when I get up again. She seems to be a bit ashamed as she shakes her head. I sigh and I think she takes that personal.

"...but I can clean and sew and also cook!" she tries to sell me her abilities. She doesn't understand my thoughts. It would have been easy to tell the Frog that I want her as my personal assistant for a few weeks and then that it didn't work out some weeks later, but without being able to read or write this will be useless. At least she won't be able to snoop around when I leave her here alone.

"So what? Want to serve me a three-course meal?" I grin mischievously and accidently show her my canines. She twitches in fear.

Good Lord, how sensitive. "I still need your last name," I say as a matter of fact and I'm happy that she seems to relax at my emotionless approach. "McDonnelly, Sir."

I take a long look at her and she seems to start to feel uncomfortable. "What is wrong, Mister Vinge?" she nearly whispers.

"Is your family from Ireland?" She hesitantly nods.

"My great-grandfather was Irish." Another grin on my face. Sometimes destiny gives you a sign.

"Did your great-grandfather bring some music to you from this lovely green country?", before I was able to finish the question she already started smiling brightly.

"Yes, Sir. Yes, he did! I can sing a lot of Irish songs." I smile back at her, happy that I now know exactly what we can tell people, what I will pay her for; without making it look as if I'm just taking advantage of her.

Maybe it's Tristan's blood in my veins that make me a bit more optimistic, but I like the idea of getting back some old tunes. Who knows? Maybe all that misery has a good side. Even if she does not really sing, we can still tell them that she does. I nod appeased in her direction. Things start to get better.

I straighten out. "I'll be back when the sun rises. Get some sleep, I'll also bring you something to eat," getting back to my commanding tone.

"I... you won't be... the one I hate, Mister Vinge," she suddenly says silently.