“Study well, Riven,” she said in clear dismissal.“We’ve time enough, but none to spare.”
Riven rose, bowed, and let himself be led back to his chambers.
He had much to think on.
Chapter Thirteen
A mountain path in Athelbryght
After three days, Halithe was done with “adventures.”
The trail wasn’t so bad during the first day.It climbed steeply at the start but then mellowed considerably as it became more of an old dirt road traveling across open fields.Then the ground sloped upward again, through scrubby meadow and sparse trees, which still wasn’t too hard.But once it narrowed and started to do switch-backs, things got more precarious and there were a few washouts and boulders to navigate around.
Halithe wasn’t the only one struggling.Aramal didn’t seem to find the going too rough, but Ritathan was breathing hard, and they all had to watch their footing.
Except Bright Fang.The vore.Who had the highly irritating habit of racing up the trail, coming back, racing away again, and coming partway back, then lolling in the sun, tongue out, waiting for them.
Three days of sleeping on the ground, three days of struggling uphill, three days of peeing and—well, she’d really rather not think about that—three days of silence between two men, who clearly had a history and who were determined not to talk to one another beyond basic necessity.Not looking at one another, not speaking to one another, going out of their way to avoid physical contact.
It made her grind her teeth.
Bright Fang seemed to think the whole thing hilarious.
Which finally made her stop that afternoon, suck air in between her teeth, and say, “Not one step further.”
Both men turned and looked at her.
“We are making camp early,” she said.“I am going to bathe, eat something, and crawl into my bedroll.”She turned to Bright Fang.“Water,” she demanded.
Bright Fang snorted, sniffed the air, and loped off the path, heading toward some low greenery.Halithe followed, not really caring what the two men did.
Bright Fang led her to a stream pooling among the rocks.Halithe flopped down beside it,
unlacing her boots.The vore lapped at the water.
“I don’t even care how cold it is,” she grumbled, pulling off one boot and sock and wincing at the tender, red spots.“That’s not good, is it?”
The vore sneezed.
“It would help if you could talk,” Halithe said, then rolled her eyes when he glared at her.“I know, youcantalk, I just don’t understand.”She slumped as she unlaced the other boot.“I mean, I can’t exactly ask Aramal to translate when what I want is to ask questions about Aramal, and, well, you know.The two of them.Their history.”
Bright Fang grinned at her, his tongue lolling.
Halithe slid closer to the water and dipped her hand in, pulling it out with a hiss.“So I’m either cold and clean, or warm and gritty,” she grumbled.“Cold it is,” she said, and started to remove her tunic, then glanced at the vore.“A little privacy, please?”
The vore stood, shook itself, and turned its back, settling back down in a patch of rough grass with a huff.
Halithe stripped, being careful, when she removed her breastband, to set her folded handkerchief carefully aside.Then she set to washing, clenching her teeth at the initial shock of the chilly water.She almost wished it was deep enough to jump in, at least she would then feel a bit cleaner.
As she washed, her gaze drifted to the vore’s carefully turned back.She needed to know more.About them, about Athelbryght.She could kick herself for not paying more attention to her history lessons, as dull as they had been.Most of her education had been on court etiquette and how to make oneself appealing as marriage fodder.
Not so useful in current circumstances.
She wasn’t stupid enough to wash her hair.She just braided it up tight when she was done, sitting naked by the water to dry, skin starting to prickle in the breeze.Her hands ached, red, rough, and sore, and her nails…
Her teachers would have been horrified.
She grinned at that and pulled on her underthings, making sure her small, precious token was tucked safe in her breastband.She pressed her hand to her breast, thinking of Caris, still in the fine Palace, bathing in scented water and dressed in soft linens.A captive in a fine cage.
