“How… how?” he asked weakly.
“While she was following you, I followed the horse,” Tomaz said. “Trudger’s a good horse. Wouldn’t want to lose him.”
“Trudger,” the Prince said. “I didn’t know it had a name.”
Tomaz smiled slightly. “He does.”
The Prince thought about what the giant had said for a moment—about the girl following him. Abruptly, he turned to her, and saw her staring out at the distant city.
“I don’t know your name,” he said bluntly. The fact that he was still trying to catch his breath made him more curt than he’d intended.
The girl turned to him and raised an eyebrow. He looked at her for a long moment, then swallowed, took a deep breath, and spoke again.
“Would you please tell me your name? I would like to know it.”
“I’ve heard that question before somewhere,” she said dryly, “though I vaguely remember being the one to ask it.”
The Prince nodded. And then, on sudden impulse, he took a step forward, drawing the dagger she’d lent him. She tensed, but he ignored that. She had every right to be wary of him—for that matter, she had every right to hit him upside the head and leave him unconscious to meet his fate, the way he’d done to her. But he didn’t strike her with the dagger, as she must have feared; instead, he offered it to her.
“I… apologize. For the way I acted.”
Part of him was watching what he was doing in disbelief, but the larger part of him felt that this was right. She had saved his life, even though he had given her no reason to. There was honor in this, and justice, in a way that was separate from the laws of the Empire. This was something between the two of them. This was a debt he had to repay. And this was the least he could do to fulfill that obligation.
“Thank you for lending this to me,” he continued, holding the dagger out in both hands. “And thank you for coming for me of your own free will.”
He turned and nodded to Tomaz.
“Both of you, of course.”
Tomaz nodded and smiled. The Prince turned back to the girl and watched her, wondering what her reaction would be. She stared at the dagger, and then looked up into his face.
“I don’t either,” she said.
Given that this response didn’t seem to make sense, the Prince suddenly wondered if she had been hit on the head during their escape.
“Don’t… what?” he asked.
“Don’t kill people unless I have to,” she said quietly, piercing him with her green eyes. The Prince drew a sharp breath as he remembered her reaction to him when he had said that. He opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it. He didn’t know what to say, and so, as Tomaz had recommended on the day they’d met, he would say nothing at all.
“We need to move,” Tomaz rumbled. The girl broke her gaze away from his and nodded to Tomaz. She paused, then spoke again to the Prince.
“Keep the dagger. You might still need it. We aren’t out of this yet.”
She walked away, and the Prince realized that she wouldn’t answer his original question and tell him her name. He didn’t know why, but that realization hurt, and it made his heart sink.
It was understandable, though. He was probably the last person she wanted in her debt. And why would she trust him with her name? He had betrayed her. He slid the dagger into the belt of his borrowed clothing and looked out at the city again, trying to hide his disappointment.
“Leah,” she said.
He froze, then quickly turned back around. She was still facing away from him, her back tensed in a way that told him the answer had slipped out on its own through clenched teeth.
“My name… is Leah Goldwyn.”
He swallowed to work moisture into his mouth.
“Thank you, Leah Goldwyn, for saving my life. I am in your debt.”
When he fell silent, she walked away, over to the horse.
