Page 38 of Company of Thieves
“Right,” I said a fewweeks later, sitting on the edge of Alan’s bed while he knelt before me, my foot resting on his thigh. “So, daggers are out.”
He dabbed at the blood, using a wet cloth to wipe the small puncture hole I’d managed to make on my own damned foot, before spreading a little ointment on it, and then wrapping a white linen bandage across my instep.
He did all that without saying a word. I knew he was angry, but I hoped not too angry. The last three weeks had been—with the exception of the horse lessons—wonderful. Fulfilling. Exciting and marvelous and heart-stoppingly fabulous. We’d worked out an easy pattern, with nights spent in sensual exploration of what made us both writhe in delight, while the days were spent with me learning how to defend myself with swords, two dulled daggers, and a bow with a quiverful of arrows, all the while Alan tried hard not to throttle me with exasperation.
I slid my noninjured foot up his thigh to his groin, wiggling my toes provocatively. “You know, we could skip the lesson with Delilah and instead you could use the orange oil on my breasts. And belly. And ... well, I was saving this for a special occasion, but I think that if you wanted to try a little oral sex on me with the orange oil—just a little, because I’m still not sure I’m going to like it—then that would be just fine.”
He sighed, his gaze still on the top of my foot. “Just tell me one thing, Hallie.”
Oh dear. He sounded weary. He sounded that way only after my lessons. “I don’t know how,” I answered, knowing exactly what he was going to ask me. “It just slipped and the pointy tip went smack-dab into my foot.”
“Those blades were dulled. You couldn’t even cut butter with them.” He looked up, and I saw a mixture of amusement and regret in his eyes. “You are the only woman in the world who could stab herself on something that literally could not cut anything else.”
“Well, it’s not literal if it cut my skin, but I know what you mean. I was thinking about it while you were carrying me in here, and maybe I’m not meant for melee fighting. You haven’t seen me use the bow yet, but I’m really pretty good with it. Maybe if I got some of the big arrows, the kind with metal tips on them—”
“No,” he said, sliding on my sandal that I had bought from a local shoemaker. “No metal-tipped arrows. Nor, and I know this will be your next suggestion, are you getting a disruptor.”
“Oh, come on,” I said, smiling my most beguiling smile when he stood up and held out his hands for me. “I’ll just shoot targets, I promise. And I really am quite good with the bow. You’ll have to come out and watch me practice.”
He was going to say no—I just knew it—but instead, he led me outside to the horses, stopping where one of his men was saddling the bony old horse that he’d bought for me. “Very well. I will make a deal with you.”
I groaned. “It’s going to be something to do with the horse, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Metal-tipped arrows?”
“Absolutely not. But I will teach you how to shoot a disruptor—only targets, and only when I am present—but you must ride Delilah at a trot.”
I bit back the need to whine that I’d fall off, and thought about it for a minute before shaking his hand. “Five minutes of trotting for an hour of shooting practice.”
“An hour for an hour,” he countered.
“Ten minutes trotting for half an hour shooting.”
“One-to-one, dove. For every minute you learn how to ride at a trot, I will allow you a minute shooting.”
That seemed like the best deal I was going to get, so I agreed to his terms.
I survived a whole twenty minutes of going around in a circle at a trot while Delilah was on a long lead, Alan on the other end, before I made him stop, claiming my butt had suffered enough.
He’d just set up a bit of cloth with marks on it, attached to one of the hay bales, and was instructing me on how to prime and ready the disruptor before firing, when one of the men guarding the perimeter shouted.
Alan swore when he turned, holding a hand to his eyes.
In the distance, the long shape of an airship could be seen. It was black, like Alan’s, but it looked much bigger, one that was clearly suitable for an emperor.
“Damn him, he’s early,” Alan said under his breath, turning back to me.
“Lesson later,” I said, turning the disruptor’s charge switch to off, and putting it back in the holster. “Where do you want me?”
He thought for a moment, his eyes going to the tent that he’d recently had erected, and which he’d told me would be our temporary home while the emperor claimed his.
“By my side,” he said at last, and, taking my hand in his, started flinging orders to everyone. Our clothes and effects were moved to the smaller tent, while other men and servants ran to ready the meal that the imperator would expect upon arrival.
I rode at Alan’s side, aware of a sense of tension that seemed to hum through the camp. It left me feeling itchy and uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to say anything to Alan. He had enough on his plate, and I had promised myself that I would do everything I could to ease his mind. If that meant keeping my mouth shut while his father was here, then so be it. I did leave him long enough to go into our replacement tent and change out of the reproduced version of my silk tunic and pants to don one of Leila’s dresses, the loosest one, as well as the baggiest of her pants. The more I looked like a shapeless frump, the happier I’d be.
“Are you up to this?” Alan asked, ready to help me onto Delilah’s back. “I would prefer to have you with me, but if you wish to stay behind—”
