I’m just shifting sacks back into place when Kaan’s voice comes to me—hard and heavy. “Raeve, get beneath the boards.”
I snort-laugh. “Youget beneath the boards.”
Since I know there’s not a lick of hope he’ll actually do it, I don’t bother hanging around and crawl toward the flap. I clamber through, flicking my hood up as I wedge between Kaan and Noeve, my next breath thick with sweet herbal-smelling smoke. “Wow. The view’smuchbetter up here,” I say, plucking a feather from the loose ends of my hair.
Noeve arches a brow at me.
A low rumble erupts from Kaan’s chest. “If someone recognizes—”
“Eitherof us. Or have you forgotten Bothaim? The ambush? Besides,” I say, thinking of the female’s glazed eyes as she consoled her youngling; of the way she discreetly tried to re-ruche the neckline of her blouse, “this is my hunting ground.”
“We’re not hunting,” Kaan grinds out.
“Not if the soldiers behave.” I crack my neck, the tips of my fingers tingling. “Which I’m hoping they don’t.”
“You’reblood bound.”
“Hasn’t killed me yet.”
“Feather sack. Get in. Now.”
I frown. “Do youwantme to die? I’d bet my entire dagger collection that’s the first thing they’ll stab. No, thank you. I’ll have much more fun stabbingthem.”
“If you two get blood on my cart, I’ll turn you into cushions,” Noeve mutters around the smoke stick dangling from the corner of her mouth. “I have a newfound respect for the comfort they provide for my sore, sorry arse.”
Probably not a good time to tell her I’m not particularly good at clean, tidy slaughterings …
Kaan tugs my hood farther down with more gusto than necessary. “Where’s your veil?”
“Anyone sees my face, or yours, I’ll cut out their eyes.”
He grumbles about begging the Creators for patience.
I’ve tried that a few times. Another thing that doesn’t work.
The colk stomps to a halt at the gate with an impatient snort. She shakes her big, boxy head, jostling the shell of snow that had collected on her pelt. Obviously as hackled as we are by this meddling blockade.
A soldier steps up to Noeve’s side, his helmet shielding all but his thin mouth, nose, and the red bead dangling from his ear.
Piercing green eyes fix on us.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Noeve pulls on her stick, looking right at the soldier as she blows a smoggy breath free, dousing him.
It’s hard not to smile.
He bats at the smoke, passing an uninterested glance over Kaan and myself. “You headed to Gore?”
“Nearabouts,” Noeve says. “I have feathers from my slaughtered flock that I’m hoping to sell.”
“The city is already at capacity. We’ll require three pouches of bloodstone for your passage in. Precautions, of course, in case you don’t leave before the fall.”
Three pouches? Precautions?
What a load of spangle shit.
Noeve stares at him for a long, tense moment, then clicks her tongue and lifts the lid on the compartment by her feet. She pulls out three bulging brown pouches of bloodstone and hands them over.
Though she’s quick to replace the lid, the soldier’s beady eyes are quicker. “We’ll take whatever else is in there, too.”
