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“It was a long time ago and not a big deal,” I say curtly, but Stavros is already striding over.
He makes another twitching gesture with his head before peering at the mottled ridges that protrude from beneath my shift. “Those look like whip lashes. That’s not a typical punishment for stealing.” His tone darkens. “What worse crime did you commit?”
Of course he’d assume that.
I make my voice as hard and cool as I can. “It wasn’t a whip, and it wasn’t punishment for a crime.” At least, not in the way he’s thinking. “My mother was very enthusiastic with a belt. Like I said, it was a long time ago. There are reasons a person ends up fending for themselves on the streets. Can we continue?”
Casimir looks sick as the implications sink in. Stavros’s mouth tightens, but after his gaze slides over my back again, he eases aside.
Can he tell the difference between a whip and a belt when he looks closely?
I don’t really care how much he believes me. Mostly I want them to stop looking at the evidence that I’m not totally unbreakable.
Julita’s obviously caught on too, maybe more clearly than any of the men, since she’s seen how I live in full detail.Gods, Ivy. Yourparentsdid that to you? I can’t imagine—I didn’t realize—
“It’s fine,” I say softly, just to her, not caring what the men make of the statement.
Benedikt lifts his chin toward the white ribbon tied around my upper arm. “What’s that for?”
An image flashes through my mind of the length of white rippling through Linzi’s hair as my little sister scampered through our yard. I brush my fingers over the worn fabric with a pang through my chest. “Just a memento I like to keep on me.”
To make sure I never forget what I am, even if I don’t want anyone else finding out.
I glance toward the thin belt tucked under the waistline of my shabby petticoat. “Should I strip my weapons too, or am I allowed to keep those as part of the test?”
Alek lets out a strangled sound, but Stavros takes the question in stride. He touches the pommel of his short sword. “Let’s keep it to one each. It wouldn’t do to give you an unfair advantage.”
He’s returned to his cocky tone that walks the line between teasing and outright mockery. He thinks my question was funny, does he?
I undo the tie on the petticoat and let that fall too. Then I reach for the small sheaths on the belt, the same beige as the fabric of my undergarments to blend in.
One knife, two knives, tiny enough that they barely added any bulk to my hips but sharp enough to gut a man. I set those on the nearest shelf in front of the dusty leather volumes there and then bend down to retrieve one slightly longer blade from each boot. I kept my favorite in my left hand while I set aside the other.
Benedikt breaks into chortling laughter. “She carries more metal than you do, Stav. Oh, I do like this one. Julita picked well.”
I don’t think picked is the right word,Julita remarks, and pauses.But it’s hard to imagine getting a better companion for this situation. Kosmel must have smiled on me.
I don’t bother to correct Benedikt. My attention remains on my theoretical opponent.
Stavros has marked my show of disarming with a twist of his mouth that looks as though it’s not sure whether to become a grin or a grimace. When I meet his eyes, he lets out a brief chuckle and draws his sword. “Is that all?”
“As much as it was worth bothering with in that dress,” I say, rolling my shoulders. “Am I suitably on display for your evaluation?”
I’d imagine all four of these men have seen women in much greater undress than my current state. I’m only slightly less covered than if I were in summer peasant garb.I’vebeen much more undressed with more than one man before, albeit under very different circumstances.
Still, my skin shivers under the rake of the former general’s gaze. I resist the urge to peek down and confirm that my lack of a godlen brand isn’t somehow blazing through my shift.
This might not have been my wisest move ever. But I can’t back down now.
“It’ll do,” Stavros says. “Let’s see how well you can use that toy.”
Without any further warning, he lunges.
Thankfully, I know better than to trust a noble or an arrogant asshole to play fair. I’ve been tensed for attack since the moment I grasped my knife.
The former general might be fast for his size, but I’m faster—and there’s not a whole lot of me for him to grab. I whip to the side and duck under the sweep of his prosthetic hand.
As I dart behind him, he yanks his massive frame around to face me again. He waggles his arm with the prosthetic. “You’re lucky. I’m equipped for keeping up appearances right now, not for a fight.”
