We passed the front of the house, and I glared at it, knowing the old bitch would see me and not giving a damn that she’d probably curse me for it. She’d already brought trouble to my door when she told them I was in her barn.
“What do you need a trailfinder for?” I asked the soldier as we headed back to the town square.
“To find a trail.”
I waited for more, and when he didn’t elaborate, I decided it was in my best interest to wait until I was in the town square.
I saw the merchant I came in with earlier that morning, and by the shit-eating grin he gave me, I knewexactlywho had told them about me.
I hoped he got run over by his own wagon next time he left town.
“Is this them all?” a stern-looking soldier asked when he saw me.
“Last one,” the one who found me said.
“Right.” The stern-looking one looked me and three others over. “We’ll hire two of you to take us north.”
Two? I dipped my head into the warmth of my cloak to hide my smile. I was perfectly safe here. The other three knew me well. One I’d punched, one I’d taken his fee last time he was on a trail and got lost, and the third one favored his right leg from where I’d stabbed the bastard the night he hadn’t understood “fuck off” meantfuck off.
Not one of them asked where they were going. One immediately volunteered, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He got lost going back to his own village, for the gods’ sake. Limp-a-lot sniffed and stepped forward.
“How much are you paying?”
“Enough,” the soldier growled.
Limp-a-lot shrugged. “Aye, I’ll go.”
Perfect. I waited to be dismissed.
The officer started to talk when a cold, clear voice rang out over the square.
“We’ll take the girl.”
The officer who’d spoken turned and looked at the three soldiers who’d arrived, wrapped in heavy cloaks.
“The girl?”
He pushed his dark cloak back, and light blue eyes met mine. “Yeah, that one.”
Chapter 2
I foughtthe urge to run as he approached. I watched him carefully as he strode confidently toward me.
Shit, did I know him? Had I stolen from him?
When winter was colder than the heart of the Frozen Mountains, alleviating a merchant or a soldier of their coin purse was sometimes what I referred to as an occupational hazard.
Merchants might be conmen. But soldiers? Soldiers were worse.
A girl needed to eat, and they had more than they needed.
And more importantly, I was gone long before they knew their purse was gone too.
The soldier stopped in front of me. He looked normal. Average. I had no recollection of seeing him before, but he was so bland that nothing about him screamed memorable.
“What’s your name?” he demanded as he opened his cloak to show his golden armor beneath.
“What’s yours?”
