Page 48 of Kill the Beast
“Indeed.”
“Did you have pretty armor and a plumed helmet? A lance with a lady’s token tied to the end of it? Did they crown you with flowers and kiss your sweaty cheeks afterwards, before throwing a feast in your honor?”
He laughed. “Something like that.”
“Were you any good?”
“I was the best, actually. No one could beat me in hand-to-hand combat.”
Now she forced her way around to face him. “What?”
“I said—”
“I know what you said. You know how to fight?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, watching her face like he was trying to figure out whether he should duck.
“Then why did you let me show you how to throw a punch?”
He looked sheepish. “You said it would make you feel better.”
“Because I thought you were helpless!”
“I told you I wasn’t,” he reminded her. “You were just making assumptions based on my appearance.”
“I…” She turned back around, her cheeks hot. Something uncomfortably close to affection was burrowing into her heart, and she was helpless to stop it. “Are you almost finished?”
“Just about,” Alderic said, tying off the thread and snipping it with the scissors.
Lyssa reached for the leftover poultice she had made for Brandy.She scooped up some on her fingers and smeared it over the stitches in her thigh before wrapping a length of bandage around it. Alderic dabbed a bit onto her back, then wiped his fingers off on a cloth and began plastering a few squares of gauze over the poultice.
“You should eat something, by the way,” he told her. “They say red meat is good if you’ve lost blood.”
Lyssa rolled her eyes, pulling her clothes on carefully over her wounds and gritting her teeth against the pain the movements caused. “Great thinking, Al. Are you going to go catch us something for dinner?”
“I already did.” He dug around in his pack and tossed her a bag of jerky.
She snorted. “You’re quite the hunter.”
“Money is the best snare there is,” he said, and a laugh burst from her lips at the mental image of him throwing coins at a rabbit.
She handed a piece of jerky to Brandy before shoving some into her own mouth. “Thanks,” she said around it, “but I don’t think this is going to make much of a dent. I’m starving.”
“Murderous rampages do tend to work up the appetite.”
“There’s some canned food in my pack. We could have that.”
He disappeared inside the tent to fetch the rations she had brought, and emerged with a wrinkled nose. “These look disgusting,” he said, inspecting one of the cans. “Tinned beef? How can you eat this?”
“And here I thought I was wrong about you being a snob,” she teased, shoving more jerky into her mouth.
“Why? Because I don’t fancy the idea of botulism?” He rummaged around in his own pack and withdrew a small skillet, some paper spice packets, and a little bottle of what looked like cooking oil.
“What are you doing?”
“Making this edible,” he said.
“You know how to cook?” Her chewing slowed. Well, shecould addthatto the list of things she never would have guessed about him.
