Tatterdemalion

valuable asset but did little to shield him from abuse and prejudice. Though he’s now free, for the first time in his life he’s alone—and he hates it. All he wanted was an apprentice and traveling companion in this

hostile land. Instead he winds up the unintentional owner of a slave with a mulish attitude…and a

suspicious history.

Yveni dares not tell the truth about who he is, and Paole refuses to trust him until he comes clean. The

battle of wills only serves to heat up a sizzling attraction that throws a new complication into the mix: love.

Paole wants acceptance. Yveni wants his birthright. Even if they manage to come to an understanding,

forces are gathering against them that could tear them apart forever…

Warning: Virginal angsting, interminable UST, and tender loving.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Many Roads Home:

His irritation grew as he discovered another difficulty keeping an unwilling prisoner brought him. His

normal routine when he arrived in a town, same as Mathias’s had been, was to make a camp just outside

and go in on foot with what he needed, occasionally taking Peni if he was collecting materials or supplies.

Mathias had always taken Paole with him, and even sent him off to deal with patients on his own, as

Mathias’s age meant he could do less than was demanded of him. But Paole couldn’t turn up to see people

with a slave on a chain. Mathias had never chained him, had never needed to. Gaelin would run off as soon

as Paole unleashed him.

So he was forced to drive into town, leaving the boy chained to the wagon while he visited the

ironmongers for what he needed, then head out to where he pla

there was a tree sturdy enough for the purpose, since he didn’t dare leave the brat with easy access to the wagon and all its tools in the back.

Gaelin resisted as Paole dragged him over to the tree. “Why are you chaining me up here?” he

demanded as Paole fastened the lock on the new longer chain and tested it. “What have I done now?”

“Nothing, and that’s the way I want it to stay.”

“But what if it rains, or I need to eat?”

Blast it. Paole hadn’t considered that. “Then you’ll get wet.” The sky was clear, so there was no risk today, but it was something else to worry about. “I’ll leave you food and water.”

“Is there no task you want to set me?”

Paole had a dozen things a trustworthy apprentice could be set to, but nothing for this boy. “No, and

mind your tongue.”

“I just want to be useful, master.”

Paole felt like rolling his eyes.

“Is there not even a book I could read?”

He supposed that was reasonable, though he suspected the boy’s motives. “I’ll see if there’s

something. Now, no more demands, or you’ll do without food and water until tomorrow.”

“I understand, master.”

Again that flat tone which carried no obvious insult, but it still managed to sting. Perhaps it was just

Paole’s guilty conscience. Better not to engage with him at all, until he felt calmer.

He left the boy with Kusa’s Herbalist, since it was replaceable if the brat decided to damage it, as well as the canteen of water, some fruit and dried meat. He’d buy bread in the town and other supplies.

Something else to consider—he’d have to buy enough for two now. And what about the winter? He nearly

groaned. He hadn’t thought this through in the least.

He did his best to lose his foul temper before he reached the town again, but Addler the healer still

quirked an eyebrow at him. “Something biting you, Master Paole?”

“Not really. Just some business in Kivnic that went awry.”

“Someone said they thought you had a companion with you as you came through earlier.”

“Aye. Giving a lad a ride towards Sunik.”

Addler lifted the other eyebrow in surprise, but Paole didn’t elaborate on the lie. Let people chatter.

Better that than they learned the truth.

He bought supplies, spread the word he was in town, called in on two of Mathias’s regular patients

and spent time socialising, all the time with his mind half on the brat back at his camp and what mischief he might be up to. When he returned that evening, he was so wound up to expect a problem, that finding the

boy quietly reading and causing no difficulty whatsoever didn’t appease his a

He held out his hand for the book. “Give it to me.”

The boy frowned but handed the volume over without further argument. None of the pages had been

folded over, and Paole could see no food or drink stains on the cover. Normally, this would please him, but his irritation overrode everything. “I didn’t damage it.”

“I told you to mind your tongue.”

Gaelin’s mouth snapped shut. Paole instantly regretted his temper, but he couldn’t apologise to the

boy because that would show weakness. Instead he put the supplies and book away, and tried to calm

down. He was a wreck after a few hours owning this boy. Such a dreadful mistake he’d made.

He fetched a fresh bread roll from his new purchases, thinking to offer that instead of an apology. He

found Gaelin talking to Peni and scratching her jaw. “Leave her alone.”

“I was just—”

“I said, leave her alone!”

Gaelin stepped back at his bellow, and Peni whi

deep breath. He opened his eyes, and held out the bread. “Here. That’ll tide you over until I make supper.”

The boy took the bread and mumbled a wary “thank you”. He made sure to keep well away from Peni

and from Paole both.

Paole walked off. This wouldn’t work. After he finished in town, he’d return to Kivnic and leave

Gaelin there. The slavers would be gone, and the boy would have to fend for himself. He was smart

enough, and there were the mysterious friends he couldn’t bring himself to tell Paole about. They could

help him.

The decision made, he felt calmer. Better to put this stupidity behind him and find another way to

make it through the winters. At least this way he’d only be hurting himself.

Gaelin was back under the tree when he returned, the roll already eaten. Time to make the fire and put

on the beans he’d had soaking. The boy said nothing until Paole had the fire laid and the beans and dried

meat cooking.

“You could leave me that kind of thing to do.”

“No thanks.”

The boy sighed. “My friend has that book. She had one she said was better though, from Uemire.

Hosta’s On Medicinals. Do you know it?” He’d switched to Uemi to ask the question.

Paole answered in Tetu. “One, I don’t read Uemi because I was a child when I was abducted, and two,

stop trying to be nice.”

The boy straightened up, haughty indignation on his pretty features. “I’m not trying. I’m not the one in a bad mood all the time. I enjoyed the book. Sofia used to dose her family, and us. She sometimes read

to us from that book. I didn’t know what it all meant but it sounded interesting. Is that what you do? Make medicine?”

Paole knew better than to answer, but he did anyway. “Yes. I’m a healer, though not certificated. I

have the Healing Sight.”

“Oh, like Raina.” The enthusiasm sounded real. “I was travelling to Grekil with her clan. I thought it

was a rare gift, though.”

“It is.”

Who was this boy? So friendly with Uemiriens, yet possibly in league with slavers. Open about his

friends, but not about his family or his destination. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?” he murmured to

himself.