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I face forward as I walk away, not deigning to even look back, making sure my intentions are clearly unnegotiable. I’m not staying.
A deep groan rumbles out of him. “Otto— you and Aiden stay hidden in the tree line with our horses. Ari— it would be best to leave our weapons here,” he says from behind me, his frustrated annoyance clear in his tone. “As civilians of Felshan, we wouldn’t be traveling with a sword, or a bow.” I slow my walk, turning at his words. He unwraps his belt, handing off his blade. It’s a few steps before he catches up to me, holding out his hand for my bow and quiver.
A growl rises in my throat.
“Don’t worry." Aiden takes a step forward. "We will be watching. If anything seems amiss we will come.” His face is firm, his lips a thin line. He looks older when he gets serious, and it almost makes me smile. The oldest brother in him is hard to tame it seems, just as his younger sister’s wild spirits.
It’s strange to feel his caring gaze. Another crack forms in last night’s vow, and I attempt to mend it as I relax my face into indifference. I hand the captain my bow, not sparing a parting glance to our other two companions.
Our steps are deliberate. Walking over fallen branches and logs while stifling the crackling dead leaves and twigs underfoot. Our steady breathing adds to the cadence of the mid-morning forest.
The breeze rustles through the green surrounding us, the trees clustered tightly enough that we must weave through them every few steps. Wild flowers poke through random patches of grass and weeds, growing only where stray rays of sunlight break through the ceiling of the forest. The scent of spring swirls around us as we move, while all variety of birds flit through the branches above, adding their song to the air.
“We will say you’re my wife, and we are traveling to Fort Lowsan for your brother’s wedding,” Captain Montgomery says, breaking the forest's trance. “It would make more sense to travel in regards to your family, since when we married you’d come live with my family.”
His deep voice reverberates the atrocity down to my very bones. His wife? I would rather willingly burn my hands in tonight’s dinner fire than pretend to be anything of his.
I open my mouth to rebuke his absurdity, but he must already sense my objection. “You don’t have to like it, but it protects us both if we pretend to be married.” His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, his tanned forearms swinging gently at his side.
“So, in order to travel as a woman I must be married?” Heat rises in me, but I soften into it.
“Obviously not. But it offers less questions. Many husbands and wives travel together and leave little to be wondered— or remembered— which serves our purposes well.” His tone is matter-of-fact, paired with a slight edge of irritation.
My indignation makes it difficult to keep my voice quiet. “If we have to be related, can’t we just be brother and sister?” It’s a genuine question. If I have to be bound to this man, even a counterfeit relation, at least brother and sister would imply minimal touching. It wouldn’t even imply love, as I’m sure many siblings hate each other. And it would take very little effort to play the part of loathsome sister to the man walking beside me.
“Do you have to argue with everything I say?” He asks. His eyes are wide and his jaw rigid, strong arms outstretched to either side of him.
“When it’s ridiculousness you’re peddling— yes, I do.” I begin to roll up my sleeves, the heat of day reaching me as a few beads of sweat form on my brow.
A deep breath fills his chest, his arms falling back to his side during his exhale. He rakes a hand through his dark hair, a few strands falling back into his face. “And what would be our reason for traveling outside of Turin as brother and sister?” His voice is steady now. “Most civilians die having never traveled more than a few minutes away from the home they were born into, let alone having traveled to a completely different city.”
My mother never left Turin, I realize, and I’ve only visited the outskirts of the city. His reasoning is sound, but my stubbornness won’t let me yield so easily. “You seem to have a grand imagination. I’m sure you can come up with something,” I answer, not bothering to look his way to navigate his reaction.
The captain stops, his ocean-colored eyes fixed on me. “Alright. You win. Be my sister,” he says. “And watch the greedy eyes of any man inside roam over you like you’re fresh meat to be roasted over the fire.” And his eyes do just that— looking from my worn leather boots, to my leather belted waist, grazing up my shirt, until they slowly reach my gaze.
His glare is like winter, much different from the summer flames that resided in them last night. It’s a look I’m not used to, and I stare back as I try to make sense of it. I’ve seen darkness in men before, a coldness like we lived at the top of the frigid Kotar in the middle of winter. But this is different. His intense gaze is focused solely on me. Not on my body, not on my weapons, not on what I can give him or how much he could sell me for— just me.
“I’ve handled feral men most of my life,” I tell him, talking through the unsettling feeling burrowing into my stomach as he continues to stare at me. “Just point a knife at their throat and they become much more respectful.”
He says nothing, turning to face forward once again while we walk.
As we get closer, the building comes into view. Although, building may be too strong a description. It looks more like an oversized hovel, boasting little room for more than a couple beds and a place to prepare a meal.
We enter into a small clearing, breaching the property of the outpost. The captain and I walk carefully, taking in our surroundings, listening and watching for anything out of place. Nothing seems amiss until the stable comes into view.
“Something isn’t right,” the captain says under his breath, looking from the stables to the outpost building and back again. Every stall is full, plus at least half a dozen more horses tied to a makeshift wooden rail. They lazily graze on the grass surrounding them, almost bored by our approach.
“I didn’t realize this place would be so busy.” I meet the captain’s gaze as a familiar buzz awakens inside of me.
Everything around me sharpens. The tiny blue flowers surrounding my feet. The smell of a coming storm. The sound of bees flying around their hive. With my next step, I feel for the familiar anchor at my ankle, my blade still securely in place. My heart immediately eases. I may have handed over my bow, but I wouldn’t be caught dead without my favorite weapon in tow and a way to defend myself should the need arise.
Each step is careful and meticulous as we make our way to the entrance. My fingers tick as I wait for any reason to unsheathe my dagger. We stop just outside the front door, crossing under a small hanging sign that reads,Mail Outpost.
“Sister.” The captain nods at me stoically as he reaches for the handle.
“Just open it.” I roll my eyes at him as I stand up straight, smearing as close to a genuine smile on my face as I can for whomever waits inside. A creak peals through the air as the door is pulled open. We step through the frame, the door closing with a loudclangbehind us.
And a dozen pairs of greedy eyes greet me.
