Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

her.
    “Something might happen to you,” Zusa said. She hesitated a moment, then took a seat beside Alyssa before the stream. “Something unfortunate.”
    “I’d see any bandits coming for miles,” Alyssa said, gesturing to the grasslands beyond.
    “You act as if I speak of threats beyond the Kulls’ own camp. It is Yoren who might do something unfortunate should he fear you attempting to flee.”
    Alyssa swallowed, and she stared into the water in hopes of keeping the strange woman from reading her reaction.
    “Why would he think I’d be fleeing? He is my love, after all.”
    At this Zusa let out a laugh. It was so rough, so sudden, that Alyssa jumped.
    “Yes, yes. Of course. Your true love. That is why you flinch just before he touches you at night. That is why you smile when he looks at you, yet never before, and never after his eyes leave your face. Yoren may be a fool, Alyssa, but do not treat me as such, nor my sisters.”
    Alyssa felt her neck turning red. Was she really so terrible at hiding how she felt? Or was the other woman just that good at reading people? Seeing that masked face, that aura of danger that settled around Zusa as comfortably as the gray cloak she wore, Alyssa dared hope it was the latter. She tried to decide how to continue their conversation, if at all. Yoren and Theo were the faceless women’s employers. Yet she seemed to speak only with contempt of Yoren…
    “Forgive me, then,” Alyssa said. “Sometimes we must share a bed for reasons other than love.”
    “Such as?”
    “Power. Safety. Respect.”
    “If you think Yoren gives you any of that, then you are as big a fool as he. Come back to the camp, Alyssa. I’d hate to see you punished needlessly.”
    Zusa reached out, grabbing her arm. Alyssa refused, instead pulling away and glaring.
    “I am no fool either!” she said. “What else am I to do? My father will have banished me, blaming me for the attempt on his life you damn women made. I was once heiress to one of the most powerful families in all of Dezrel. Yet what am I now? Nothing but a warm place for the cock of a fat, disgusting tax collector’s son. I know he would use me, but one day he’ll learn just how wrong he was to ever dare to do so.”
    Zusa stood there, arm still holding her. Alyssa met her unseen stare, not caring anymore, not willing to keep up the act. She was alone, damn it, this was supposed to be her tiny sliver of solitude.
    Slowly the wrapped fingers released her.
    “Alyssa…” Zusa started to say, then paused. “What if … what if I were not in the Kulls’ employ?”
    Alyssa swallowed, remained silent.
    “What if,” Zusa continued, sitting down cross-legged before her. “What if the only reason we serve is to bring land into Karak’s possession, land currently owned by the Gemcroft family?”
    “Land promised to you after my father was dead,” Alyssa said, easily piecing it together. “Land promised to you after I was wed to Yoren.”
    “Land you could promise to us as well.”
    Alyssa shook her head.
    “I can make no promises, Zusa. You have to know that. Even if I could somehow convince my father to take me back and accept me, I cannot guarantee he would give up any land to Karak’s temple. You tried to kill him, and Maynard is not so forgiving.”
    “What if your father were no longer alive?”
    Alyssa dug her fingers into the dirt beside her.
    “No,” she said. “No. Then you are no better than Yoren and his shit-eating snake of a father. Go back to camp if that is all you can offer me. I want to be alone.”
    Zusa stood, her cloak rustling as it folded around her, hiding her slender form.
    “I know you keep a dagger in your dress,” she said, just before leaving. “You will have only one chance to use it. Just one. But know there are two types of mercenaries. There are those who work only for coin, and those who think for themselves.”
    “And which are you?”
    “We are the best of the best, Alyssa.”
    She waited until Zusa crested the hill, then ran. Her feet were bare, and they sloshed through the mud of the stream easily enough. She held her skirt up high as she could, but still the muddy waters splashed across it. No turning back, she thought as she rushed along the other side. Everyone wanted her father dead, wanted her to pledge power she didn’t deserve to people who had not earned it. Enough was enough. She would rather risk the wild, rather go to her father and throw herself at his feet and beg