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“This is my livelihood. I wouldn't stay in business if I were not.” She busied herself with ensuring all her supplies were present before she closed the basket and took her sewn bag from the floor. The soft rustle of fabric filled the silence that followed.
“I didn't realize it was possible for something like a cloak to be a perfect fit,” Gil said as he settled the cloth around his shoulders. “It feels as if I'm wearing nothing at all.”
“Aside from what you've been wearing the past few days, I hope you mean.” She dared a glance.
Her stomach gave an unsettled flop.
She'd created the illusion, worked it up in her mind and chased it down into the thread she drew through the fabric, yet she wasn't prepared for the difference it made or how that difference might affect her. She'd never made any illusions so strong.
The face that looked back at her was not Gil's. She'd erased everything that made him handsome. His hair, eyes, even the reddish stubble that had decorated his jaw was now a dull mud-brown. The magic resculpted his face, blunting every appealing feature into something mundane. Scars and texture sprinkled his previously smooth complexion, and when he smiled at her, even that had been softened so it wasn't quite so warm.
He ran his hands down his front. “What do you think?”
“You may be the most ordinary man I've seen in my entire life.” And somehow, she wasn't sure she liked it. The look on his face when he'd seen her in her own illusory garb sprang to mind. Was this how he'd felt?
Gil's smile faltered. “Is that not a good thing?”
“It is. It's exactly what we wanted.” But she was no longer sure.
When they descended to the front room with their things, Jaret stood waiting. Surprise lit his face, but he tamed it fast and settled back into a disgruntled frown. “There's news.”
“I'd be amazed if there weren't,” Gil murmured as Thea passed him the heavy basket.
Jaret glanced up the stairs behind them, then scanned the room. They were alone, and that he found it necessary to check left Thea unsettled. “Security along the country's borders is tightening. When you reach the edge of Kentoria, be prepared for trouble.”
“We already are.” Gil shifted the sewing basket to his non-dominant arm so he could offer a hand.
Jaret eyed it as if he'd offered a snake instead, but he still reached forward and clasped it. They shared the sort of grip Thea had seen soldiers like her brother use dozens of times, something that doubled as both greeting and farewell, and she tucked that bit of information away for future questions.
“Be careful,” Jaret said.
Gil stepped back. “You, as well. Wish us luck. Then forget you ever saw us.”
“If you come back—”
“I won't. Your debt is filled.” Gil hefted the basket back to his other hand and turned Thea toward the door.
She remained silent as he led her into the predawn shadows and they found the road that ran north. Her socks and boots had dried, and her finished trousers lent comfort to her long strides. Once they passed beyond the sleeping city's edge, the sun rose over mist-filled fields.
“When the mountains come into sight, we still have three days to go before we reach them,” Gil announced.
She saw no mountains for a long time.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Over the days of travel,there was little to do but talk. Though part of Thea longed for more information, most conversation was light, and she was delicate about what she used to probe.
“Were you a soldier?” she asked one afternoon as they waded through knee-high grasses. They tangled around her feet and hindered her passage, though they seemed to part easily for Gil.
He considered the question for a while before he answered. “I have some military experience. I would not call myself a soldier.”
“What would you call yourself, then?”
“Trained.”
For a role as an assassin, she had no doubt. There was more she wanted to know about that, but his hesitance to answer a question he could easily dismiss let her know any inquiries on that subject would not get far. She chose to focus on connections instead. “Is that training how you know Jaret?”
This time, he looked at her from the corner of his eye. Studying, or perhaps appraising. “What gave you that notion?”
