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“The way you parted.” She put her hands together in a clumsy mimicry of the arm-grasp they'd shared. “I've seen that before. From soldiers.”
A hint of a smile curved his lips. A genuine smile, peeking through the illusion she'd crafted—though barely. It was only clear when she looked close. “I suppose I should not be surprised by your attention to detail, given your profession.”
She allowed herself to smile back. “So the two of you trained together?”
“Not so much together, but at the same time. Circumstances forced us to work together at one point. But I'm afraid that assignment was what drove him from the army, and I believe he blames me for the atrocities he suffered.”
Not a story of a friend he might care to recount, then. She retreated to an earlier subject. “Did you enjoy training with the king's army?”
The corners of his eyes tightened. “No.”
With that, she knew he would tell her no more. The rest of the afternoon passed with little talk, and the quiet tension that question put in him did not fade the following day.
They stopped rarely during the day, and never long enough for her to pull anything from the sewing basket to work. She'd anticipated being able to sew in the evenings, but it was dark every time they halted to make camp, and Gil never lit a fire. Better that they go undetected, he told her, even if it delayed her work. For now, he seemed satisfied with the cloak.
It would not satisfy him for long.
“We'll need to find somewhere to stay,” Gil announced when a sizable city at the foot of the mountains came into view.
“No friends in this city?” she teased.
“No friends in the previous city, either,” he said grimly.
The sewing basket bounced against her legs. They'd taken turns carrying it, though Gil had done most of the work. His arms never seemed to tire, but her stubborn pride demanded she share the burden. She hefted it higher, so the handle hung from her elbow. “Where are we, anyway?”
“The very edge of Kentoria. Heartroot is our largest settlement against the border. Ranor holds the mountains on the other side. The mountains have always forced a stalemate. They're why Kentoria never conquered Ranor, and also why Ranor never impressed us enough to become proper allies.”
“Because we couldn't get across the mountain?” She squinted at the peaks. The range wasn't as impressive as she'd imagined, though it was pretty, covered in bright foliage.
“And neither could they. Having the mountains at their backs would give them an advantage, if they just had the strength to bring an army across them. Instead, the mountains became a stumbling block for us both. The advantage the mountain range grants the Ranorsh army keeps us from reaching the other side, but the difficulty of crossing means they aren't able to chase us away from the foothills.” He shook his head with a smirk, as if it were funny.
“And then we settled and named the city Heartroot,” Thea said. “A better name for Samara, don't you think?”
He shrugged. “The reason for naming Samara seems obvious enough when you consider our primary trade. Our founders could have departed from the tree concept, but most cities adhere to that convention. I suppose at this point, it's sort of our thing.”
“Our thing,” she repeated thoughtfully. “You always speak fondly of Kentoria. Even in discussing its shortcomings.”
His good humor faded. “It's a complicated relationship between us. Kentoria and myself.”
“The country trained you.” It wasn't a question.
“For better or worse, Kentoria made me what I am. Now she'll learn which it is. Better, or worse.”
Thea cleared her throat. “Do you want my opinion on that?”
The glance he sent her was startled, but followed by a laugh. “No,” he said. “I don't believe I do.”
With some sense of amicable comfort restored, they continued to the city. It was small, smaller than whatever city held Jaret's inn, but it struck her as better suited for receiving travelers. There were houses, but shops belonging to merchants and craftsmen and women of every sort lined the streets.
“This is the only point of trade between Ranor and Kentoria,” Gil told her as they passed shop after shop. “All goods imported from Ranor pass through this city. Virtually anything you could want, you can find here.”
“You've been here before?”
“I've been to every city in Kentoria. And many outside Kentoria, too. Heartroot hosts an office for imports and taxes, and one for passports as well. My contact in Ranor provided mine during a previous expedition, but we still need to do something about yours.” Gil adjusted his cloak, a tiny gesture that might have meant nothing, but she suspected it betrayed uncertainty. Over finding his contact when he was in disguise? Or over seeking a passport for a woman who was now a wanted criminal?
“Why don't we just go around the city and cross through the mountains?” she suggested. “From what you've told me, it's not as if either country will have guards along the border.”
Gil cast her a speculative frown and for a moment, she missed the expressive gray of his natural eyes. “If your goal is to start a new life in Ranor, that's the last thing we should do. They're a small country, and that allows them to be very particular. If you're going to Ranor, you will need paperwork, and to arrive without it would guarantee your ejection from the country.”
