Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,27

“And two of them are in need of a good surgeon, thanks to you.”

“Not just us,” Ghaul said. “You did some cutting yourself, my lady.”

“Elyea.”

Ghaul smiled as she quickened her pace.

“Quite a woman,” Ghaul said to Khirro in a hushed voice. “But be wary. I’m loathe to trust a harlot.”

“We saved her life. She wouldn’t do anything to harm us.”

Ghaul grunted noncommittally.

They were correct—Khirro had never met a harlot, or a courtesan, or a whore. His village was too small to support such trade, though some told rumors that the widow Breadmaker sold more than bannock to passing merchants and wanderers. Khirro didn’t know if the stories were true—she’d only offered him bread. The differences between Elyea and the widow Breadmaker were like comparing a destrier to a used up donkey.

Elyea had gotten farther ahead, so she stopped and looked over her shoulder.

“Are you two coming or are you going to spend your day looking at my ass?”

They followed the gurgling stream as it twisted and turned, mimicking Khirro’s thoughts.

Trust her, don’t trust her?

They wouldn’t reach their destination without supplies, so they had little choice. Ghaul and Elyea walked together, talking and laughing, leaving him trailing behind to ponder his thoughts and wish he could talk to a woman like her as easily. He watched the courtesan pick her way across rocks and through underbrush with lithe grace despite the loose sandals snapping against her heel. From time to time, Ghaul or Elyea would cast a question or comment over their shoulder to which he replied with a smile or nod—as few words as possible—then return to his ruminations.

Did we take too long? Are the pursuers closing in?

Ghaul didn’t seem concerned.

“In my experience,” Elyea said loud enough to involve Khirro in the discussion, “two men wear arms and armor wandering alone in the forest is unusual. My guess would be they’re either deserters or in love with one another. Which are you?”

Shocked by both allegations, Khirro opened his mouth to protest, but Ghaul’s snort of laughter cut him off.

“Neither. We’re simply two men who lost their way.”

“Um-hmm. And where were you going?”

Panic flashed in Khirro as he thought Ghaul would reveal everything. Words jumped from his mouth unbidden. “We can’t say.”

Elyea stopped and Khirro almost walked into her. She looked into his face and he turned away from her scrutiny, regretting his words. He didn’t look to Ghaul for help, he knew what kind of expression he’d find there.

“What do you mean ‘you can’t tell me’?”

“Yes, what do you mean, Khirro?”

He felt their gazes on him, their questioning looks. Too many times he spoke without thinking; it always caused him trouble.

“It’s just that—It’s because...” He chewed his bottom lip. “I can’t.”

“Take no offence, Elyea. Khirro holds our journey as one of great importance and we don’t know you well.”

“And I don’t know you, yet you want me to take you to my village. You could be deserters, or spies, or Kanosee.”

“We’re not.” Khirro’s heart sank.

Elyea crossed her arms; faint lines showed on the bridge of her nose as her brows turned down in anger.

“Show us to the village.” Ghaul’s soothing tone surprised Khirro—he’d have expected a demand. “Where we’re headed after that isn’t your concern.”

“Don’t tell me my concerns. I’m no strumpet swayed by your honey tones. You should be concerned. Finding yourself lost in the forest would be bad; being found by the garrison and branded deserters would be worse.”

Ghaul’s demeanor changed instantly and he reached for his dagger. Elyea stepped back, body tense.

Bad to worse.

Khirro hadn’t wanted to help this woman only to have Ghaul kill her in a stupid dispute he caused. He rested his hand on his companion’s forearm.

“We mean no harm,” Khirro said.

“That’s not how it looks.” She tilted her head toward Ghaul. He released his knife.

“I can’t tell you where we’re going. It would be very dangerous for us.”

He wanted to tell her, to put an end to this stupidity, but the Shaman’s curse moved and roiled in his gut, keeping him from speaking the truth.

“Then you’ll find your own way. And good luck to you.”

“But you must—”

“I must do nothing. If you want my assistance, you’ll tell me where you’re going.” Her eyes bore deep into him, unblinking, unrelenting. “And don’t lie to me, Khirro. My profession requires I know when a man lies to me.”

Khirro looked to Ghaul for guidance, but he neither moved nor spoke. The soldier’s hand no longer rested on the knife hilt, but it looked like it could