Page 75 of The Warrior Priest
“I don’t need superior senses to smell yours,” Andreas told him.
Rufus, however, shook his head vigorously. “This is absurd. Jac can’t smell people from a distance. Rhys, you should know better. Magic doesn’t exist. The sorcerer is just a Zemayan myth. There is only one faith, and that’s the one we serve.”
Rhys nodded, but he wasn’t agreeing with Rufus. I doubted he even heard his friend. “You always knew when it was me coming up the stairs.”
“You have a distinctive rhythm,” I said. “Everyone does.”
“That’s why you were so good at spying. You overheard conversations from a distance, which meant you could stay hidden. I thought you got in close and I worried you’d be caught, but you were able to stay far away. Further than I could.”
“She’s small,” Rufus pointed out. “She can hide better than you or I. Or she can read lips.”
“In the dark?” Rhys asked.
I pointed to a large tree in the woods some distance away. “Stand behind that tree and say something.”
One hand on his sword hilt, Rufus strode into the woods and stepped behind the tree. “Vizah has a fungal infection on his big toe,” he said.
I smiled. “Vizah, apparently you need to see Mistress Blundle about the fungus on your toe. I’m sure she’ll have an ointment for it.”
Vizah clamped his hands on his hips. “That’s private business!” he shouted at the tree.
Rufus returned to us. “I only heard Vizah.”
“She told me to see Mistress Blundle for a cure for my toe. It’s not a fungus, it’s just an interesting color.”
Rufus folded his arms over his chest. “So Jac’s senses may be acute, but that doesn’t prove the existence of the sorcerer.”
Andreas clapped his friend on the shoulder. “No one’s asking you to believe it, but you can’t stop others from thinking differently to you.”
Rufus arched his brows at Rhys, challenging.
Rhys patted the saddle on his horse. “Climb up, Jac. I’ll take you somewhere safe.”
Rufus moved to block my way. “She can ride with me. I can protect her equally as well as you. Probably better at the moment, considering your injured back.”
Rhys glanced sharply at me. When I showed no surprise at Rufus’s words, he tilted his head to the side, questioning.
“I’m a very good spy,” I said.
“And nosy.” He led his horse to Rufus and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “While Jac’s life is in danger, she rides with me. I won’t risk your life or anyone else’s. That’s an order.”
“Bloody stupid one,” Rufus muttered, stepping aside.
“Then you shouldn’t have voted for me to lead you.” Rhys clutched Rufus’s arm. “But thank you. I’m glad you did.”
He helped me into the saddle as the other three mounted.
“Want us to warn the sheriff about Giselle?” Andreas asked.
“No. He may still be in the governor’s pocket. The power may have shifted, but we can’t be sure if we can trust him yet.”
Rhys settled behind me on the horse and took the reins in one hand, resting his other on the hilt of his sword. Thanks to our closeness, and perhaps my heightened sense of touch, I detected a bandage wrapped around his torso as my back bumped against him. I could also feel the tensing of muscles in his legs as he directed the horse to move. His warm familiar scent was mixed with the herbal smell of a salve that had been applied to his wounds. Being near Rhys had always been a heady, all-consuming experience, but now I knew why. My senses were filled to the brim with him.
It could be a wonderful, deeply satisfying place to be. Or it could be dangerous if our enemies knew how he affected me.
Rhys was thinking about my senses, too. “I understand how heightened hearing, sight and smell manifest. But what about touch and taste?”
“I’m able to detect individual ingredients in a complicated dish, which I realized once I ate Mistress Lowey’s pies. She used to comment on how remarkable my sense of taste was. Before that, I thought everyone was like me. I also dislike boring food.”
