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I don’t hesitate before responding, “From the east, my lord. Emilio’s family bought me when I was a child.”
Tahar’s eyes narrow a hair, as though he’s caught me in some lie. Walking up to me, he drops his hand to my cheek before turning my chin up to face him. His dark eyes peer into mine, not the familiar blackness of Ax’s eyes but something infinitely darker. Sweat drips down my spine but outwardly, I’m calm.
“I will be needing some companionship this evening. Perhaps when we are done here…”
“Ahh, I leave for only a second and you’re already making plays for my woman!”
Tahar eyes me for a moment more, his gaze never breaking, before he smiles, dropping my chin.
“Well, you must admit she is lovely,” Tahar replies, taking his seat once more.
Emilio smirks, and takes his seat next to me, placing a hand on my thigh. Despite my general dislike of being touched, the old man’s touch is reassuring with the hawk’s eyes still watching me.
“I was just asking where you found such a fine creature,” he continues. “She is so much fairer than most women in these parts. As a matter of fact, it interests me how you and your men can be so pale after such a long, cross country journey.”
I feel myself tense up, but Emilio only laughs beside me.
“A rich man does not sit in the sun all day, traveling or not. And, An-Penny here was purchased by my family when she was young, she is mine now. There are many fair skinned folks in some parts of Italy.”
Tahar nods but says nothing as he takes a cup of wine, bringing it up for a toast.
“To beautiful women,” he says, and Emilio follows.
“To beautiful women.”
I look over at Sammi once more, shifting my feet under my skirt.
It’s going to be a long afternoon.
Chapter Twenty-One
Axle
One of the two guards out front of the tiny jail is the same from the other day and he immediately pulls out his sword. Apparently threatening people is memorable.
“Fuck off,” he says, holding the weapon in front of him. “No more of your fucking tricks.”
I look at the man for a moment, taking in his posture and the way he holds his sword.
“There’s a reason I got you so easily before,” I tell him, “You’re doing yourself a disservice with how you draw your own weapon. I can show you.”
The man narrows his eyes at me, the other guard watching us both with interest.
“And why would you do that?”
I shrug, moving a bit closer but slowly.
“We aren’t enemies, are we? You were doing your job, my friend caused a fucking hassle for you, I’m sure. I have a skill that you do not that I am willing to teach. Besides, perhaps you can help me too with something I don’t have the skills for.”
The man lowers his weapon slightly and I take the chance and step forward again.
“Here,” I say, getting close enough to point out a worn spot on his sheath. “First of all, this sheath is doing you no service. You see this here?”
I spend the next five minutes or so showing him various ways of pulling his weapon and by the time he tries himself, he looks up at me questioningly.
“Where does a man like you learn this?” the second guard asks. He’s a younger man, probably close to my own age, though the lines in his face speak of someone who has seen much.
“A man like me?”
