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Thea was inclined to agree. “Just the same, I wouldn't call it fighting. But I am a woman, one who lived on my own in a large city. My brother felt it necessary that I learn to defend myself. At least, a little.”
A shadow of something drifted across his face. Conjecture? She wasn't sure she liked that.
“You never tried to defend yourself against me.”
“I didn't have to,” she said. No matter how he'd maneuvered her around the city, he'd never done more than steer her. “You never attacked me.”
His expression remained thoughtful. For a time, he said nothing. Then he sank one knee to the ground and worked to unfasten a sheath hidden within the top of his boot.
Thea's brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”
“Loaning you a knife.”
She tilted her hand and the blade she still held glinted in the morning light. “I already have one.”
“You can't have that one. You can have this one.” He pulled the sheath free and stood. The dagger he held looked no different to her.
“What's wrong with this one?” She looked at the blade in her hand again, unsure if she'd missed something.
“That one is my favorite.” Gil motioned toward the empty sheath against his thigh, then held out both hands. One to take the dagger she held, one to offer its replacement.
She resisted the urge to be stubborn and refuse to give it back. “I'm not very good with a knife. My brother showed me some things, but I never... I didn't need to be.”
“Then you are fortunate.” He pulled his dagger from her grasp and pushed the sheath into her hands. “Fasten it to your leg. The straps are adjustable. It should fit.”
“What if it doesn't?” The straps looked long enough, but she wanted hers higher than her boot. She put it against her thigh, like how he wore his.
Gil stepped back and scanned her from head to foot. “Then we'll figure out how to tie it at your waist. It would be easier if you had a belt, but I suppose I can't blame you for not packing one when you left in a dress.”
The sheath felt odd against the outside of her thigh. The lower strap buckled, but the upper one fell short of reaching the last hole.
Gil made a thoughtful sound and slid forward to kneel before her. “Perhaps the illusions you wove into your clothing made me miscalculate.” He took the strap from her and produced a slender blade no longer than his finger, seemingly from nowhere. Its tip was needle-thin and he punctured the end of the strap with little effort. “You're a very shapely woman.”
“Oh, is that so? Here those bandits had me convinced I'm ugly.” She shifted as he buckled the strap for her. It was tight, perhaps uncomfortably so, but maybe it would stretch as she walked.
He lingered with his fingers on the buckle and when his gaze slid up to meet hers, he was so serious that it gave her pause. “You're not.”
Thea's heart fluttered. An instant later, her stomach did, too. That shouldn't have pleased her. What did his opinion matter? He wasn't the sort of person she should seek attention from. Yet her pulse quickened as she searched his eyes, detecting no flattery or falsehood behind the illusion that hid their true color. Maybe she wouldn't. It was part of his job, after all. She swallowed hard. “You aren't, either, though I tried to make you.”
A smile cracked across his face at the jest. “Then perhaps I should thank you for that.” He stood, so close he could have put an arm around her. He still towered over her, imposing and powerful in ways she couldn't explain, yet with his eyes still fixed on hers, she no longer feared his strength.
She took a step back and touched the blade strapped against her thigh. It felt strange, too tight to be comfortable, yet she feared it would slide down. How did his blades stay up when he was moving around? She tore her eyes from his to study how his daggers attached. Maybe the straps connected to something on his trousers. There was a possibility; she could add belt loops to the seams to help hold the knife in place. “I hope you don't think me carrying this means you won't have to protect me during the rest of the trip.”
“No,” Gil said, a soft note of amusement back in his voice. The way it softened his tone was pleasant to the ear. “But anything I can do to ease my conscience after I leave you alone in a foreign land will help.”
A tiny hint of uncertainty touched her heart. “What does that mean?”
“That means, dear Thea,” he said, the sound of her name something like a caress, “you're going to learn to fight.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Thea had alwaysassumed roads could be unsafe, but nothing had prepared her for the experience of traveling through the mountains. The waypoints were numerous; they'd traveled no more than three hours before they reached a Kentorian outpost. It was little more than a shack on the side of a slope, but a pair of bored-looking men lounged there, checking passports for those coming the other direction.
“Watch the road,” one called as Gil and Thea passed.
“Too late for that,” Gil replied, and the man gave a resigned nod.
“I don't understand,” Thea said as they worked their way farther into the mountains and the shack slipped out of sight. “If they know there are brigands in the hills, why don't they station more guards along the road?”
