It was a stupid question, considering I didn’t see a giant, foul-smelling corpse in front of us, but Radven didn’t treat it as one. He shook his head, rising from where he’d been inspecting a small pool of blood.
“No. But it has one of my daggers in its throat and another in its eye. It won’t make it far.” He turned and glanced in the direction the creature had retreated, and I wondered if he meant to go after it and finish the job, but he seemed to think better of it.
“Come on,” he told me. “We need to get down to the inn.”
The crease in his forehead belied his easy, ambling stride as he strolled past me to the edge of the trees. There, he bent down and grabbed a bundle of fabric he’d apparently dropped when he’d switched into beast-slayer mode.
“I stole these off a clothesline for you,” he said. “Put them on.”
What he’d grabbed, it turned out, was a simple, off-white dress, as well as another tunic-like garment that was pale brown with laces up the bodice.
Apparently my confusion showed on my face, because Radven pointed to the off-white fabric and said, “This one first. The other goes on top.”
“But why do I have to wear this?”
He didn’t say anything, just gave the jeans and T-shirt I was wearing a meaningful look.
“Stupid question, got it,” I said, looking down at the stolen garments again. I guess this wasn’t really any different than all those times I’d gotten dressed up to go to the Ren Faire back home, or when I’d cosplayed at the regional fantasy convention.
“We need to be as inconspicuous as possible,” he said. “Which means from this point on, you’re not Marigold from the United States or another world. You’re going to have to play a part.”
“And what part, exactly, is that?” I asked. “Tavern wench?”
He grinned one of those wicked grins. “It’s your lucky day, butterfly. You get to be my wife.”
20
Playing the Rogue’s Wife
“I’mgoingtobeyourwhat?” I was sure I hadn’t heard him right.
“My wife.” Radven was looking more and more amused by the second.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious,” he replied, grinning. “Therador works a little differently than your world—in some ways it’s more progressive, but in others, far less so. Trust me, after spending a decade in your world I much prefer many of your social mores, but here, a young, unmarried woman walking into an inn with a young, unmarried man is sure to attract attention. Far easier for everyone if we just play the part of a married couple.”
That made sense, though I was honestly a little bitter about it. “So you’re telling me that in this world a woman can be as powerful as Laitha but she can’t walk around without a man?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. There are certainly women who hold positions of power here, both in an official capacity and in the political underworld. And plenty more who travel on their own, for various reasons. But they almost always draw attention, and that’s what we’re trying to avoid. Far Meadow sees many travelers, but they’re still a small village, and people talk. We want to pass through without notice.”
I had plenty of thoughts aboutthat, but I had to admit that he had a point for the time being. I’d had enough close encounters for the day—my best bet was to lay low until I could figure out my next steps.
I glanced around, looking for a place I might change in private. There was a small clump of berry bushes near the edge of the trees that looked like it would provide plenty of cover—and was in the opposite direction that the boarlath had run—so I headed there.
“Don’t even think about trying to steal a peek,” I said over my shoulder to Radven.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, butterfly,” he called back, and I could hear the wicked smile in his voice.
I ducked behind the brambles, then, after the briefest moment of hesitation, peeled off my T-shirt and jeans. Both were stained and torn beyond repair, so I shoved them beneath the bushes out of sight. Then I pulled on the white dress.
It was a little too long, and definitely too tight across the chest, but it mostly fit. I had the same issue with the brown tunic—I could get it on over the under-dress, but I’d have to be careful not to trip on it. And I couldn’t even begin to tighten the laces across the bust. I never thought of myself as having a particularly generous chest, but I was practically bursting out of this.
Forget Ren Faire maiden, I thought, shifting the fabric to make it slightly less obscene.I‘ve gone straight into ‘busty barmaid’ territory.Eventually, I managed to get the dress and tunic to lay across my chest in a way that didn’t look quite so vulgar, and only then did I step back around the bushes toward Radven.
He’d been watching the woods in the direction the boarlath had gone, but he turned when he heard me approaching.
And his eyes went wide, his lips curling devilishly.
