seen of late. The bandits might be to blame for how few came from the south. But there have also been few travelers from the north, and an empty road usually points to some danger upon it.”
“That is truth,” Riasa said.
“So Kelir and Ardyl tasked two warriors to stay with the caravan. We cannot all ride at that slow pace, but if we are ahead of them, we will likely encounter whatever preys that route before they do. But if we don’t, they will still have protection.”
News that lightened a weight on Lizzan’s heart. She had rejected Mevida’s offer of a job because she’d not wanted to travel as far north as Koth. Now her path took her in that direction, yet she could still not travel with them. But perhaps she would help protect them from a distance.
And she was apparently not the only one who’d felt some guilt for abandoning them. Lizzan glanced at Laina, saw the same relief in the other woman’s expression. With a short laugh, she tapped her mead to Laina’s tea so they might drink to their mutual ease.
When she set down her mug, Preter watched her with narrowed eyes. “Are you always drinking on the road, too? Or only in villages?”
“Used to be both,” Lizzan told him, as it was a fair question to ask of someone whose sword might protect him. “But no longer. At least while I am on this quest.”
He raised a skeptical brow and glanced at her mug.
Ruefully she admitted, “As soon as the mead passes my lips, Vela changes it to water.”
Laina snorted and quickly slapped a hand over her mouth.
Riasa’s laugh echoed around the empty room. “So Vela forbids my lady from speaking and she takes away your drink. Never will I ask for a quest. She would turn me into a celibate who cannot even use her hand.”
“I have been on that quest for far too long,” Preter sighed mournfully, and Lizzan choked on her drink while Laina buried her face in her hands, shoulders quaking.
“Do you wish me to go upstairs with you?” Riasa said when she was able, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “We will end your quest now.”
“I thank you for the offer, Captain, but I suspect the bath will be all the nakedness I can survive in one day.”
Grinning, Riasa shook her head before rising from her seat. “I will walk down with you, then,” she said before turning to Lizzan. “They likely have quick-drying clay that we can use to make an imprint of that medallion. My lady, after you finish your meal, I will meet you in the stables and see you off along the road. My first farewell to you was difficult enough. I doubt I will bawl more quietly during the second.”
Laina nodded, then inclined her head when Preter bowed his farewell to her.
With a soft ache in her chest, Lizzan lingered a moment longer. “I also wish you a safe journey and happy fulfillment of your quest. And I must thank you for demanding to know what happened on the King’s Walk. Speaking my truth to those who wanted to hear it—and finally learning the true reason for my exile—meant everything.”
Laina gripped her hand. The wealth of emotion in her eyes was easily read, wishing her also a safe journey . . . though they were both on quests that would bring them pain to the edge of their enduring. No safe journey would be had, no matter how they wished. But here, for at least a moment, it was a shared journey.
Throat tight, Lizzan took her leave.
The baths were livelier this morning than they had been last eve, when she’d been with Aerax. The tightness in her throat moved down to her chest. So sweet he’d been—and never had she loved him more. It had taken all her strength to walk away.
Yet it was the most sensible route. Pain would come for them both. But perhaps she could spare him a little of it.
Riasa waited for her near the entrance. “The attendant said there is a skin clay that will serve our purpose. We only wait for her return.”
As did Degg and Uland, who seemed to have given up searching for their own clothes among the red cascade of Parsathean linens in the changing room. Wearing robes and with faces flushed from the heat of the baths, they eyed Lizzan with quiet hostility. She saw none of the uncertainty of the previous eve, as