need to wash and lie down. You can go out into the hallway for five minutes or you can promise not to look. What will it be?”
Marius placed his hand over the still skin of his heart. “I promise.”
“Liar.” She smiled and knelt down in front of the pail. “Go on. Turn around.”
Marius turned and faced the simple drapes over the window. There was a slither of clothing, and then splashing as Keth performed her ablutions. Marius resisted peeking, and tried not to remember how she looked naked. Not that such thoughts would do him any good now, anyway, he thought. Better to stay away from them. He did not need to add a lack of reaction to a naked woman to all the other signs of his continuing death.
“Tell me about this place,” he said in order to give himself something else to think about. “Why all the effort?”
“It’s mine.”
“I know that. But why go to all this trouble? Surely when you move on–”
“No.” Marius heard Keth climb into bed, and risked turning round. Only her face was in view, her long hair brushed out of its braids and spread out over the blankets. If Marius could have cried, the lack of stirring in his groin would have driven him to it. “You’re not listening. It’s mine. I own this room.”
“But…”
“I bought it from the Waldens six months ago. They’re the managers. Everything in here.” A long white arm emerged from the beneath the sheet and waved at their surroundings. Marius stared at the arm, and waited for a sign from below. Nothing. God damn it. “I own it.”
“What? You mean forever?”
Keth giggled. “Maybe. Or maybe not. I don’t know.”
“But why…?” Marius looked around at the dismal collection of furniture, the sad little decorations, the desperate attempts to add dignity to what looked like nothing more than a collection of cast offs.
“Because I can .” Keth sat up, a flush of anger spreading across her skin. The blanket fell away, exposing her body down to the waist, but Keth was too angry to notice. Marius did, and almost smiled. Not so dead after all. But Keth was biting out words, and he realised there was nothing to smile about at all. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to get all this? To convince someone to sell me even this lot, never mind this fucking room? Because I’m a woman , in this city? Do you have any concept how precious it is to know I can finish my shift and come home, safely, to somewhere that belongs to me? A woman, in this city, owning anything ? Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked for this? Don’t you dare look down on what I have, Marius dos Hellespont.”
“Helles.”
“Don’t you Helles me, merchant’s son. You don’t have to scrabble for what you want. You’ve always had a choice.”
“But… you could have–”
“Could have what?” Keth glanced down at how she was sitting, and gathered the blankets about her. “What, Marius? Waited for you? Been kept by you? How was that ever going to work?”
“But I…” Marius turned away from her in confusion, saw the tankard and picked it up. “I could have given you better than this.”
“God damn it, you don’t understand a thing. It’s not the having, Marius. It’s not even the money. Look at all this. Look at it.” She gathered up a handful of blanket and shook it at him. “I own this. It doesn’t matter what it looks like, or that it’s not made of velvet or smells of lavender. It’s mine. I have it, and nobody can take it away from me. Everything in this room. This room. Do you know how many women own even a room in this city, for themselves? It’s not about money, Marius. It never was. I can work, and own things, and have my own life.”
Marius stared at her, saw the pride in her eyes, and the anger. And the words came before he had time to regret them, and realise what he was placing between them.
“How much of it did you earn on your back?”
She stared at him for longer than he could bear. When she spoke,
Marius placed his hand over the still skin of his heart. “I promise.”
“Liar.” She smiled and knelt down in front of the pail. “Go on. Turn around.”
Marius turned and faced the simple drapes over the window. There was a slither of clothing, and then splashing as Keth performed her ablutions. Marius resisted peeking, and tried not to remember how she looked naked. Not that such thoughts would do him any good now, anyway, he thought. Better to stay away from them. He did not need to add a lack of reaction to a naked woman to all the other signs of his continuing death.
“Tell me about this place,” he said in order to give himself something else to think about. “Why all the effort?”
“It’s mine.”
“I know that. But why go to all this trouble? Surely when you move on–”
“No.” Marius heard Keth climb into bed, and risked turning round. Only her face was in view, her long hair brushed out of its braids and spread out over the blankets. If Marius could have cried, the lack of stirring in his groin would have driven him to it. “You’re not listening. It’s mine. I own this room.”
“But…”
“I bought it from the Waldens six months ago. They’re the managers. Everything in here.” A long white arm emerged from the beneath the sheet and waved at their surroundings. Marius stared at the arm, and waited for a sign from below. Nothing. God damn it. “I own it.”
“What? You mean forever?”
Keth giggled. “Maybe. Or maybe not. I don’t know.”
“But why…?” Marius looked around at the dismal collection of furniture, the sad little decorations, the desperate attempts to add dignity to what looked like nothing more than a collection of cast offs.
“Because I can .” Keth sat up, a flush of anger spreading across her skin. The blanket fell away, exposing her body down to the waist, but Keth was too angry to notice. Marius did, and almost smiled. Not so dead after all. But Keth was biting out words, and he realised there was nothing to smile about at all. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to get all this? To convince someone to sell me even this lot, never mind this fucking room? Because I’m a woman , in this city? Do you have any concept how precious it is to know I can finish my shift and come home, safely, to somewhere that belongs to me? A woman, in this city, owning anything ? Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked for this? Don’t you dare look down on what I have, Marius dos Hellespont.”
“Helles.”
“Don’t you Helles me, merchant’s son. You don’t have to scrabble for what you want. You’ve always had a choice.”
“But… you could have–”
“Could have what?” Keth glanced down at how she was sitting, and gathered the blankets about her. “What, Marius? Waited for you? Been kept by you? How was that ever going to work?”
“But I…” Marius turned away from her in confusion, saw the tankard and picked it up. “I could have given you better than this.”
“God damn it, you don’t understand a thing. It’s not the having, Marius. It’s not even the money. Look at all this. Look at it.” She gathered up a handful of blanket and shook it at him. “I own this. It doesn’t matter what it looks like, or that it’s not made of velvet or smells of lavender. It’s mine. I have it, and nobody can take it away from me. Everything in this room. This room. Do you know how many women own even a room in this city, for themselves? It’s not about money, Marius. It never was. I can work, and own things, and have my own life.”
Marius stared at her, saw the pride in her eyes, and the anger. And the words came before he had time to regret them, and realise what he was placing between them.
“How much of it did you earn on your back?”
She stared at him for longer than he could bear. When she spoke,
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