AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The smile he gave her was nothing shy of mysterious. “Wouldn't you like to know?”
Thea stuck out her lower lip. “You can't expect me to think Gil is your real name.” Though Jaret had relaxed when she'd given it. If not his real name, maybe it was the alias he used with everyone.
“Well, it is. That's what makes it easy to recall. I suggest if you mean to lie about your identity, do it by bending the truth. Put Thea in your new name, as well. That way, if you slip, you won't be wrong.” He dipped his pen into a bottle of ink and began to copy the decorative framing.
She considered asking where he'd gotten his examples. They were official documents, with other people's names on them. The passport document did not appear to be his.
“It's a woman's passport,” he said, as if he'd read her mind. “Kentoria produces them in different colors. Brown for men, blue for women, and black for children. The frame motifs differ somewhat between each version.”
Which only provided another excuse to hide his own. “Put my first name down as Theadora.”
He paused. “How close is that to the truth?”
“Wouldn't you like to know?” she replied with a smirk.
Gil cast her a long-suffering look.
Sense got the better of her, and she relented. “My given name is Arathea.”
“Arathea,” he repeated in a murmur, his voice like a caress. It sent a shiver down her spine and she caught herself. He was helping her, but he was no savior. All he was doing was righting his mistakes.
His pen swept across the paper, neat and precise. He replicated the image from left to right, ensuring his hand never touched the ink.
Thea settled back on her bed and drew the blankets around her shoulders. “Should I be concerned about how good you are at that?”
“Forgery is one of many things for which I was trained. I don't need to explain why I might need to falsify passports. You know what I do.” When he looked at her, a hint of gray showed through the illusory brown of his eyes.
She reached for her sewing basket. “I need to make you more clothing. I'll do trousers next.”
“I prefer a closer fit than what's popular in Kentoria these days.”
“I can do that. I can make them fit like a second skin.”
He snorted in amusement. “Perhaps not that close.”
“You'll have to stand up so I can take measurements.” She tilted her hand to display the rolled measuring tape.
The sheer inconvenience that drew across his face made her second-guess the idea, but he cleaned his pen, put it aside, and stood.
“I'll be quick,” Thea promised. She left the blankets behind and ran the tape down the side of his leg first. “Light, but you're tall.”
“Had you not noticed by now?” He rotated in place when she twirled her finger.
“I suppose my powers of observation are lacking when it comes to everything but fit and fashion.” She looped the tape around his waist and tightened it, then let it slack and slid it down to his hips. “You want it close at the ankle and thigh?”
“With enough space to let me move freely.”
“How comfortable are these?”
“Quite.”
She passed the tape between his knees and drew it up to his thigh, then paused. “Move your dagger, it's in the way.”
Gil glanced down as if he'd forgotten it existed, then undid the buckle that strapped the sheath to his leg so he could swing it out of the way. “Sorry.”
“It's fine.” It was a first, anyway. She'd never tailored anything to an assassin before. The possibility for unique designs that were both attractive and functional flitted through her head before she could stop them, and a tiny frown drew lines in her face. She wouldnotfantasize about the intimidating garb she could create for a killer. Not even for Gil.
“Ankle,” she said.
