witch.
She felt remarkably safe.
The tent flap was flung open and a slave
held it aloft so the great Yuri could stretch before he fully exited; Alaysha
could tell even from her distance he'd chosen to be bare chested, all the
better to display the muscled arms and huge girth of his torso. He had his
riding leggings on, the ones with sewn-in amethysts that protected him from
dishonesty. Around his head, he wore the Circlet of Conquest -- a self-designed
hammered bronze line that had three jagged points on the front.
He was obviously dressed for intimidation.
He strode forth with a wave of his hand to
Bodiccia. She neither bowed, nor knelt. Not this mighty woman. She was as much
a guard as any of the muscled men that shifted their way around camp. She
cooked for Yuri because she wanted to, and because she'd earned his complete
trust. She picked up the platter and passed it to the slave who carried it
towards Alaysha.
She wished she could stop the drool
collecting behind her teeth, and had to swallow repeatedly as the platter was
carried close enough she could reach out and burn her fingers on the sizzling
meat.
Her hand was already midair when the slave
dropped to his knees, placed the plate next to him on the ground, and then
lowered his palms to the moss.
Yuri was close enough for Alaysha to hear
him bid another slave place the platter on the first's back.
Could she really be about to break her fast
with Yuri? After all these years? Perhaps it was a ploy. Maybe they'd found
number nineteen -- maybe even at her site -- and now Yuri would ply her with
false hospitality to get to the truth and how much she knew of it.
The second servant threw the end of a hemp
rope over one tree, and the other end over a second. Between the lines
stretched a woven seat that if pulled taut enough could create the perfect rest
for a weary warrior without him swinging undignified in the air. Yuri settled
into it and flicked a fringe of blond hair from his eyes. He pinned Alaysha to
her spot with them, only letting go long enough to push his fingers into the
hare's belly.
He scooped stuffing into his mouth and
chewed, never taking his eyes from hers. His hand found the rabbit's leg, tore
it from its socket and went greasily to his mouth. Time after time, he tore the
meat with his teeth, not once reaching for the tankard. Once, he paused long
enough to consider a roasted egg. His lean fingers lingered over it, pressed
into the seeds instead and went then into his mouth, scraping against his
bottom teeth. He smacked loudly, then plucked the egg from its spot and bit
into it.
Alaysha knew better than to speak. Best she
wait till he offered her some food.
The hare was nearly gone, the stuffing
spread over the plate messily, his chin shining from the honey and boar fat
when she realized he planned to eat the entire thing in front of her. Even
still, he had not once lifted the tankard from its spot next to the servant's
foot.
He burped once and held onto his stomach as
though he was obscenely full. He went even slower then, and Alaysha could see
the slave's thighs trembling. There was a rustling in the undergrowth close to
the cook's tent, but she didn't dare even look away from her father to see what
the noise was about.
Twice her stomach complained in such an
undignified manner it made Yuri grin through the mash of stuffing and eggs. He
made a great show of swallowing even as he managed to make it appear as though
he had no need of water or ale to wash down the meat -- it was enough that he
willed it move easily down his throat.
He left the last leg on the plate with an
egg next to it, and wiped his palm down his mouth and off his chin.
"You did not have my consent," he
said.
She knew what he was talking about.
"It wasn't intentional. Truly."
"There is no such thing. There is only
what I will."
She couldn't keep her eyes from the meat.
"I had a fright."
"You have been trained not to
fear."
"Yes."
"A witch is to feel nothing. You
She felt remarkably safe.
The tent flap was flung open and a slave
held it aloft so the great Yuri could stretch before he fully exited; Alaysha
could tell even from her distance he'd chosen to be bare chested, all the
better to display the muscled arms and huge girth of his torso. He had his
riding leggings on, the ones with sewn-in amethysts that protected him from
dishonesty. Around his head, he wore the Circlet of Conquest -- a self-designed
hammered bronze line that had three jagged points on the front.
He was obviously dressed for intimidation.
He strode forth with a wave of his hand to
Bodiccia. She neither bowed, nor knelt. Not this mighty woman. She was as much
a guard as any of the muscled men that shifted their way around camp. She
cooked for Yuri because she wanted to, and because she'd earned his complete
trust. She picked up the platter and passed it to the slave who carried it
towards Alaysha.
She wished she could stop the drool
collecting behind her teeth, and had to swallow repeatedly as the platter was
carried close enough she could reach out and burn her fingers on the sizzling
meat.
Her hand was already midair when the slave
dropped to his knees, placed the plate next to him on the ground, and then
lowered his palms to the moss.
Yuri was close enough for Alaysha to hear
him bid another slave place the platter on the first's back.
Could she really be about to break her fast
with Yuri? After all these years? Perhaps it was a ploy. Maybe they'd found
number nineteen -- maybe even at her site -- and now Yuri would ply her with
false hospitality to get to the truth and how much she knew of it.
The second servant threw the end of a hemp
rope over one tree, and the other end over a second. Between the lines
stretched a woven seat that if pulled taut enough could create the perfect rest
for a weary warrior without him swinging undignified in the air. Yuri settled
into it and flicked a fringe of blond hair from his eyes. He pinned Alaysha to
her spot with them, only letting go long enough to push his fingers into the
hare's belly.
He scooped stuffing into his mouth and
chewed, never taking his eyes from hers. His hand found the rabbit's leg, tore
it from its socket and went greasily to his mouth. Time after time, he tore the
meat with his teeth, not once reaching for the tankard. Once, he paused long
enough to consider a roasted egg. His lean fingers lingered over it, pressed
into the seeds instead and went then into his mouth, scraping against his
bottom teeth. He smacked loudly, then plucked the egg from its spot and bit
into it.
Alaysha knew better than to speak. Best she
wait till he offered her some food.
The hare was nearly gone, the stuffing
spread over the plate messily, his chin shining from the honey and boar fat
when she realized he planned to eat the entire thing in front of her. Even
still, he had not once lifted the tankard from its spot next to the servant's
foot.
He burped once and held onto his stomach as
though he was obscenely full. He went even slower then, and Alaysha could see
the slave's thighs trembling. There was a rustling in the undergrowth close to
the cook's tent, but she didn't dare even look away from her father to see what
the noise was about.
Twice her stomach complained in such an
undignified manner it made Yuri grin through the mash of stuffing and eggs. He
made a great show of swallowing even as he managed to make it appear as though
he had no need of water or ale to wash down the meat -- it was enough that he
willed it move easily down his throat.
He left the last leg on the plate with an
egg next to it, and wiped his palm down his mouth and off his chin.
"You did not have my consent," he
said.
She knew what he was talking about.
"It wasn't intentional. Truly."
"There is no such thing. There is only
what I will."
She couldn't keep her eyes from the meat.
"I had a fright."
"You have been trained not to
fear."
"Yes."
"A witch is to feel nothing. You
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