Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

slung them across his back. “I’ll see if I can nab us a rabbit or squirrel for breakfast. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. And if the faceless return, tell them to wait for me as well.”
    Then he was off, trudging deeper into the king’s forest. Alyssa knew he wouldn’t be gone long. During her time at Felwood Castle, when Yoren had often visited, he’d shown himself a competent hunter. To pass the time she tossed more wood onto the fire, watching it burn and finding comfort in that somehow. When he returned, he carried a dead gray rabbit by its back legs. He dropped it on the dirt beside the fire. Alyssa took it without question.
    “I’ll need a knife to skin it,” she said.
    Yoren paused, then shrugged and tossed her a slender dagger from his belt. She caught its hilt in the air, doing her best not to show irritation at the idiot for tossing it so carelessly toward her.
    Any other time she might have felt squeamish about the blood and guts. She played the tomboy well enough with her foster families, or when she wanted to irritate her father, but it was mostly an act. Though they might never admit it, she’d long ago learned young men treated her better, more respectfully, when they believed she could wield a knife and not squeal at the sight of something dead. But pretending to handle blood and actually handling it were two different matters.
    She pretended the rabbit was Yoren’s head. It did wonders for her stomach.
    When the rabbit finished cooking, Yoren gave her the bulk of the meat. He was once more playing the dashing suitor, as if the angry condescending brute from the night before had only been an illusion. She flashed her prettiest smile at his jokes. The lies came more easily to her than she preferred.
    “Come,” he said when their meal was done. “It looks like we’ll have to trust the faceless bitches to find us. Clean yourself up a little; you’ve got grease on your face.”
    “Where are we going?” she asked as she wiped her chin and lips with the inside hem of her dress.
    “To meet with my father.”
    He looked her up and down, scowling. She was wearing the same clothes as when her father had thrown her into the cells, and they were torn and faded from the recent abuse. Although she’d brushed her hair as best she could with her fingers, it had done little to remove the dirt and damage. She looked more like a haggard maid than an heiress to a mining empire.
    “This will never do,” Yoren said. “You must look like my queen, not my servant. Where are those blasted women? Surely they know a thing or two about primping.”
    “Yes, because their beauty is seen so often,” Alyssa said. Her sarcasm was stronger than she’d expected, the cut of her comment deep enough to narrow Yoren’s eyes and make him doubt her docility.
    “By now Maynard has every cutthroat he owns in the city searching for you,” he said. “Otherwise I’d take you to a bathhouse and make you look respectable. But it looks like I’ll have to bring you as you are to my father.”
    He scattered the fire and took her hand.
    “Oh, and dear,” he said, smiling at her. “Hold your tongue in my father’s presence. I’d hate for you to make a fool of yourself.”
    Her mouth twitched but her eyes remained dead.
    “Yes, milord,” she said.
    He completely forgot about the dagger that should have been safely tucked inside his belt, the one that had disemboweled the rabbit.
    The one Alyssa hid underneath her skirt.
    They walked south for over an hour before Theo Kull’s encampment came into view.
    “A warm fire, thick blankets, and, thank the gods, horses,” said Yoren.
    “Such charming accommodations,” Alyssa said as he held her hand. Safely out of sight of the city’s walls and the prying eyes within, Theo’s camp stretched out for several hundred yards. Wagons formed its outer perimeter, some covered, some not. Several fires blazed within the circle. On one side were twenty smaller tents, shelters for the mercenaries. On the other was a single large pavilion of a faded green color.
    She felt his grip tighten, and she wasn’t at all surprised when it slid up to latch onto her wrist.
    “Your barbed tongue makes it seem like you don’t appreciate all we’ve done for you,” he said.
    “Forgive me,” Alyssa said. “It is only the stress and exhaustion. I will feel better after bathing, I promise.”
    Yoren kissed her cheek, then looked her up and down.
    “I hope so,” he said.