Page 62
The sound of the river reminded her of the one where they’d fished. It was a different bank, grassy and full of wildflowers, but it had the same rises and falls, the same gentle pull.
She had hoped she didn’t need to kill him, then, too.
Revni’s quick-basket had fallen apart in all the rain, so Eavus carried everything. Revni didn’t see a spare rope among the items he carefully untied from the thick square of canvas. A small relief, and more mystery. How did he expect to get her in the city?
“More people will show up as night gets closer. We should be able to get more food.”
The strange, pungent dish they’d gotten from the caravan had become a congealed lump covered in lint. The spare tunic had pressed into it.
Revni took off her ax, trying not to stare at Eavus’ hands as he took stock. How to get the ring? She couldn’t just ask for it. He’d know she was planning to run. But the only thought that kept popping up was, Chop off his finger.
She was pretty sure that would raise his suspicions.
She could trip over a tree root? Take his hand to help stand up? The idea made the center of her palm sting. She wasn’t a good faker. He’d notice for sure.
“Do you dance?”
Eavus reacted like she’d blown sparks in his face.
“What?”
She colored. It was an odd question.
“In Aleteria,” she tried casually.
“I don’t…I suppose people do. What about Isfolj? Do you dance?”
Memories suddenly flooded her—of the Hall, of Niall’s Soti Faes, her aching feet and head dizzy from laughter and spinning, stiflingly hot with sweat and breath and bodies, the sharp cut of the cold wind when the door opened, the sour tang of aul soaked into the floorboards. She shook it off, looked for something else she could try.
Women’s voices traveled over the burbling river, and Revni finally spied them downstream—knee-deep in the shallows, dipping clothing in the water, their skirts dark and heavy from wading. A pile of wet fabric sat on the rocks beside them.
“Do you think they have soap?”
The slick of suds, the grace of metal slipping. He’d probably even take the ring off first, set it aside, and she could simply snatch it up.
Eavus looked up.
“You could clean your tunic before we arrive.”
“I don’t have anything to change into.”
Revni bit down her curse. Stupid useless Colcium tunic. He probably didn’t even need rope to tie her. He could just shred that tunic into strips. Eavus shrieked the sword on stone, honing the edge. Chopping off his finger was beginning to seem like the best idea she’d had. She looked around again.
The river. Cold water, slippery rocks? It would be easy for his feet to go out from under him, for Revni to yank him forward, glide it off his finger in the chaos.
“You should go in the river. You smell.”
“You’re one to talk.” He seemed unfazed. “You’re covered in stains.”
Revni flushed with anger. “Those aren’t all mine. Some of the blood is my mother’s.”
Eavus’ smile fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
The dirt hit her hard when she sat, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t embarrassed—it was called an inconvenience for a reason—but he wasn’t wrong. She was filthy, and crusty, and frustrated. Revni picked up the die from his kit and spun it. It had been a cube once, but its rounded edges had gotten chipped and rolled so many times that it was now a lump, the paint that had marked the divots on its faces mostly worn off.
“How do you play this stupid game anyway?”
“You need two. You bet on the sums. Wait here.”
