“All right?” His breath touched her cheek, carrying the scent of mint from their morning tea.
She closed her eyes, nodded. But he didn’t let her go.
“Rowan…” His fingers tightened, the tips pressing into her skin through her thin shirt. “I know you were raised in a place where the standards of decent society are not upheld. You might not understand how wrong that behavior is. Those men… That should not have happened to you.”
No. It should not have.
“It hasn’t happened since I started wearing breeches,” she told him. “I think it’s because now they can see the knife.”
Casrian made a sound in his throat like he’d swallowed a bug.
“Are you all right?”
She pulled away to better see his face. He released her, reluctantly. He was angry. She didn’t understand it. She was fine. Why would he care anyway?
“Do you even know how to use that knife?”
“I keep the blade sharp. I could use it if I had to.” Probably. She’d never actually had to hurt anyone. Toam was more dangerous for outsiders than it was for its own. No one had ever pulled a knife on her there. “Just having it on me is warning enough.”
He shook his head slowly. “It’s not enough. If someone calls your bluff—which someone eventually will—you need to know how to use it. You can’t just draw your blade and swing it around hoping for the best. You’ll get yourself killed that way.”
“I’ve survived this long.”
“It’s a wonder.” He was silent for a moment. “Any chance I can convince you not to carry a knife around with you when we get to the capital?”
Ifshe went to the capital, which seemed increasingly unlikely. “No.”
His mouth pressed into a tight line, and he nodded. “I’ll show you the basics then.”
“You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to do anything more than what we’ve already agreed on. Why do you even want to?”
“You saved my life. You came out here with me to find my men. I owe you.”
She studied his face, which had gone starkly serious.
“For Jarn, too.”
Was that what this was about? He was feeling guilty?
She shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything more than the money we agreed on.”
“I think I do.”
“Think what you want. I won’t be tied to you that way. My mother has already forgiven you for Jarn. It doesn’t matter what I think about it. Just pay me the money you owe me when this is through and we’ll be square.”
“That won’t be enough,” he said.
There was no point in arguing with him about it now. They were stuck together for at least the next week. She’d accept her payment for this job, what was laid out in the bargain they’d made, and then she’d be done with him.
“Rowan,” he said. “I?—”
His attention shifted suddenly to a point past her shoulder. His body stiffened. She turned to follow his gaze. He was staring at the river, at the stand of black hawthorn and scrubby brush that covered the embankment.
There was something moving in the brush. The branches at the center thrashed like something big was tearing its way through.
Fear punched her in the gut. The witch hunter pulled her behind him. He was fast. His sword was in his hand and he was standing between her and the threat before she’d managed to steady herself.
She pulled her knife from the sheath in her boot and moved to his side, peering into the woods. She couldn’t see much. It was all a tangle of brush and trees. Some movement as the top branches swayed against the wind like something big was moving through.
