She didn’tthinkhe was that kind of asshole.
“I would be an awful governess. Remember the cursing?”
“I believe you could refrain from cursing if you put some effort into it.”
“And you think I should be a governess?” she asked him incredulously. “Can you imagine me sitting around and listening to people talk all day? The whole time being laced up so tightly I can’t breathe. Or trying to convince some poor child to read another history book instead of going outside to play. That’s what you think I’d be good at?”
“There are worse ways to spend a summer’s day than with a book. Don’t you like to read?”
She’d seen a book in his bags when she’d gone through them in Toam. History, she thought. She’d been surprised he let it take up the space, but then she supposed even witch hunters needed to relax sometimes between slaughtering women.
“We don’t have a lot of books in Toam.”
Something moved across his face—pity, she thought. “If there are gaps in your education that need to be addressed, I’ll hire an instructor for you.”
Would he? Just like that? How much money did he actually have?
“I can read,” she told him. “My mother made sure of that. It doesn’t matter though. I’m not going to be a governess or clerk or sailor.”
The witch hunter—Casrian, he kept insisting she call him—studied the patch of mountain juniper clinging to the hillside on their left. She knew there was nothing hiding in there. The trees would have warned her if there was, but she let him look. No good way to tell him how she knew they were safe. And his silence was a welcome reprieve from his newfound hobby of laying out all of her problems so they could study them together.
It didn’t last nearly long enough. Once they were through the hollow and climbing the next rise, he turned to her again.
Before he could speak, she said, “You can stop now. I’m not going to fit in anywhere in the capital.” Or anywhere in his world, apparently.
Maybe she could take her mother to the Academy and join a trading caravan. If her mother was safe, she could go anywhere. She fixed her gaze on a squirrel scurrying through the canopy ahead of them, jumping from the heavy branch of a bur oak to a golden-leafed birch. She could feel Casrian watching her, but she didn’t want to look at him.
“The world is much larger than you know,” he said quietly. “You’ll find your place in it. When this is done, I’ll take you and your mother to the capital. Once you’re dressed properly?—”
“I’m already dressed properly.”
“I’ll buy the clothes,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about the money.”
“My breeches are fine.”
“What’s your objection to dresses?”
She gave him a look. “I used to wear dresses until men started shoving their hands up my skirts. Then I had to switch to breeches.”
His smile disappeared like someone snatched it off his face. Good. Maybe he’d take the hint and stop asking stupid questions.
She nudged Copper past him, guiding him up the next hill and through a stretch of tall pine. The horses’ hooves were nearly silent on the bed of needles. She paused at the top to get her bearings, noting the position of the river below. A break in the scrubby brush on the riverbank, worn clear by whatever animals still lived in the woods. They should stop there to water the horses.
Casrian came up beside her. “Who?”
She glanced his way. “Who what?”
His hands gripped the reins so tightly that Kenzi shied away for a moment before he drew her back under his control. “Who put their hands on you?”
Edom whenever he got drunk. A trader who passed through on his way to Sulen. Lucen Rey not even a week before his wedding. None of them had gotten far. One of the first things Toby had taught her was how to throw a punch.
She frowned at him. “It doesn’t matter. Why would you even want to know?”
She didn’t wait for his answer. Shaking her head, she urged Copper forward. Casrian followed, blessedly silent as they picked their way down the hill to the river. She let out a very unladylike grunt when she swung her leg over Copper’s back to dismount.
“Here. Let me.” The witch hunter came up behind her when she started to fall. His hands closed around her waist, steadying her as he eased her to the ground.
Her legs trembled like a newborn fawn. She was tempted to lean back against his strength, but she didn’t let herself do it.
