Harem System novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Terms

Nils sets his terms for Ruenna in front of the whole lobby, cooks her the first meal anyone has made her, and at midnight Veyra signs a trial contract on the landing and demands to be taken back.

The lobby went quiet enough to hear the clerk's pen.

"Terms," Ruenna said again, and folded her arms.

Nils picked her card up off his file.

It was cracked at one corner, and the ink on it had been rewritten twice.

"Thirty-day trial," he said. "That's the first term."

A man on the bench snorted. "He's negotiating."

"Let him," Ruenna said without turning.

"I don't work nights anymore," Nils went on. "You pay the rent. I'll cook, and I'll nurse you when you're hurt, but I don't take another shift."

"Done."

"Nothing past a held hand until I've built my first core in the Trial Gate."

Her eyebrows went up.

"A hand," she said. "That's all?"

"That's all. The Gate comes first. After that, we see."

Two women by the door started laughing.

They wore the green-and-black coats of the Mourne Guild, and one of them leaned on the other's shoulder to do it.

"Eleven men, and now a man who makes rules," the first one called. "Cask, you've finally found one who wants a contract with a leash on your side."

Ruenna's shoulders went tight.

She turned slowly, and every person in the queue found something else to look at.

"Say that again," she said.

The laughing woman stopped.

"Third term," Nils said, loud enough to cut through it. "Either of us can end it by saying so. No papers, no fee, no begging."

He looked at the clerk.

"Write it as spoken."

The clerk wrote.

Ruenna signed first, in a hard slanted hand that tore the paper at the last stroke.

Nils signed under her.

The trial seal pressed warm against his palm and went cold.

"Done," the clerk said. "Slot one of three is held."

Ruenna took his bag off his shoulder before he could object.

"Come on," she said. "I'm not leaving you in here with those two."

Her flat was on the third floor of a tall brick building behind the mercenary yards.

It had one room, one window and a cold stove.

There was a bedroll on the floor and a pile of armor in the corner, and nothing at all in the cupboard but a tin of dry biscuits.

Nils looked at the cupboard for a long moment.

"Where do you eat?" he asked.

"The guild canteen. When I'm in funds." She dropped his bag on the one chair. "Take the bed. I'll take the floor."

"There's no bed."

"Then take the floor first."

He took off his jacket instead and counted the loose coins in the dish by the door.

There was enough for rice, onions, an egg and a small piece of cured pork.

Ruenna watched from the doorway with her thumbs in her belt.

"You don't have to do that tonight."

"I know."

He lit the stove, and the room smelled of fat and onion within minutes.

She stopped pretending to look at her armor.

When he set the bowl in front of her she stared at it and did not pick up the spoon.

"You made this," she said.

"I did."

"For me?"

"Eat."

She ate with her whole attention, scraping the bowl, and when she reached the bottom she did not lift her head.

Her shoulders shook once.

"Sorry," she said into the bowl. "Nobody's done that. Not once."

Nils sat down on the floor across from her and refilled the bowl without a word.

After the second one she wiped her face with the back of her wrist and held out her hand.

"Term two," she said, rough. "A held hand."

He took it.

Her palm was calloused and very warm.

For a moment nothing happened, and then something slow and gentle drew out of his chest and through his fingers.

It did not hurt.

It felt like the first night's sleep he had had in three months.

Ruenna's eyes went wide.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, that's what it's supposed to be."

Her hand tightened on his, and she did not ask for more.

He noticed that, and he noticed himself noticing.

They sat on the floor like that until the stove burned low.

Then someone knocked on the door.

It was past midnight, and the knock came soft, with long pauses.

Ruenna pulled her hand back and stood, one fist already closed.

Nils opened the door.

Veyra stood on the landing, barefoot.

She wore the same sweat-soaked nightgown, and one of his coats was hanging off her shoulders.

Her lips were gray.

Behind her, two neighbors had opened their doors a crack to watch.

"How did you find me?" Nils said.

"The Center. The clerk said third floor." She swayed and caught the frame. "Nils."

"Go home, Veyra."

"I'll sign."

She pulled a folded page from under the coat.

It was a trial contract, the standard one.

She had already filled in her name in a shaking hand and pressed her thumb into the seal.

"Every page," Veyra said. "Any week. Any term you want."

Her knees gave a little, and she locked them.

"Now take me back."

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