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“Are we going to have to sleep in the open?” She hadn't considered sleeping arrangements when she decided to go with him. There were worse things than sleeping under the stars, but they were near the end of autumn. The first snows would soon fall and there would be no comfort in camping then.
Gil emptied his boots, too. Even his socks were black. “There's a city ahead. Not close, I'm afraid, but three or so hours of walking at a good pace. I have a contact there. We'll be able to rest in his home.”
“Three hours?” Thea could have cried. She was bone-tired, cold, hungry, and the sun was already rising. How was she to trudge on for another three hours?
“Yes. Eight or nine miles.” He replaced his boots and stood with the sewing basket on his arm. It had never so much as brushed the water. Even now, he behaved as if it were empty instead of being packed with heavy fabrics. “But we should reach the city long before any search party does, even if we're on foot. Kentoria has never been much for cavalry. The best they'll muster is a few scouts who will carry word to whatever guard force may be waiting elsewhere. They will not linger.”
“And they won't know our faces.” It was a small consolation. She waved him closer and pointed to the basket when he approached.
He lowered it with a frown, but his confusion shifted to intrigue when she retrieved and unwrapped the cake. “What is that?”
“My consolation cake.” Thea broke it in half and raised a piece in mock tribute. “To the headless king of Kentoria.” The other piece, she extended toward him. He'd eaten nothing along the way either. If she was starved, he had to be, too.
Gil regarded it with suspicion.
She pushed it toward his hand. “I highly doubt my cousin had the foresight to poison you with a cake she purchased for me.” As if to emphasize her point, she took as big a bite as her mouth could hold.
Slowly, he opened his hand to accept it. “This is what you were eating?”
“Made with the finest maple sugar last year's sap run had to offer.” The sticky sweetness meant it was hard to swallow without something to drink, too. She licked her lips several times. “I don't suppose you know of a water source cleaner than the river? I feel as if I'll die if I don't get a drink.”
Without a word, he unfastened something from his belt and passed it to her.
A water skin.
She stared at it in the growing light. Had he carried that the whole time?
“You could have asked,” he said simply as he bit into his half of the cake.
Half of her wanted to chastise him, but the promise of water was too much to ignore. She crammed the rest of her cake into her mouth to free up her hands, then unfastened the stopper and drank. It was as cold as the river had been, but blessedly clean. She gulped down what had to be half its contents before she shoved it back into his grasp and glared. “How was I to know you had that all night? Were you hiding it?”
“Saving it, more like.”
“Weren't you thirsty?”
He raised the water skin in salute and then drank his share. “I've trained a long time in preparation for this night. Mere thirst is unlikely to stop me.” Then his face softened. “But I failed to consider the same was not true of you. I am sorry.”
The gentle, earnest statement took her off guard and for a moment, she could do nothing but stare.
If he noticed, he didn't show it. In a few bites, his portion of the cake was gone, and then so was his water. “Come. We've dallied long enough. Our clothes will have to dry as we walk.”
Thea wasn't sure her hasty stitches would last a whole nine miles, but there were few other options. Her bag held clean undergarments, but no other dresses or skirts. “Will we have time for me to stop and sew?”
“You can resume threadmancy when we reach our destination.” There was no road, nor even a path, but he headed northwest with absolute certainty.
Seeing an argument would get her nowhere, Thea chose to remain silent.
That silence persisted for what became most of the journey.
Eventually, the grassy hills and scattered groves gave way to tidy farm plots and a well-maintained road. Travel was easier on the packed earth, but Thea glanced over her shoulder every so often, unable to relax, and Gil said nothing to settle her.
The transition from farms to city was so gradual that she didn't realize they'd made it until rows of storefronts rose before her.
“There's no wall?” She looked back twice, afraid she might have missed it. Only farmsteads and scattered houses lay behind them.
“Few cities wall off more than the resident lord's home.” Gil had pulled the green fabric from the basket and draped it around himself again. The cut part of it dangled down his back like a cape and she frowned every time it caught her eye. It would serve him right if she turned that into his cloak and made him wear it with that slice visible forever. Perhaps she would.
The streets were not crowded, but they were busy enough that the two of them were not out of place. The sewing basket on Gil's arm made him less threatening, and the makeshift cloak hung down far enough to hide most of his knives. By comparison, Thea felt naked. She tugged the bodice of her severed dress down around her hips, but there was no hiding their curves.
