Her hand shot down and hit the folds of her cloak. Yes, she had her dagger--uselessly hidden under her cloak.
Her hands flew up to ward off the scorpion. It struck her, knocking her off balance, its armored body ice-cold against her fingers, and then--
It gave an earsplitting shriek. A spray of something cold and wet hit her. Venom. It wasn't simply going to sting her. It had sprayed her with--
Fingers wrapped around her arm and hauled her upright before she hit the ground.
"Where in blazes is your dagger?" a voice said, sharp with irritation.
She looked up to see a dirt-smeared face and blazing brown eyes. Ronan.
She stared at him, then down at the scorpion. It was cut in half, still twitching on the rock. She stared at it and felt not relief but shame. She was armed with a dagger and hadn't even had the sense to draw it when walking into the Wastes at night. She might be her sister's wombmate, but clearly they shared little beneath their outward appearance. That's what he must be thinking.
Moria would have huffed that she'd been relieving herself, which did not usually involve being attacked by giant scorpions. Ashyn said, "You're right. I ought to have had my blade out."
"Yes, you should have. And your hound ought to be at your side, not lying ten paces away like a stubborn mule."
Tova whined and moved closer to Ashyn, butting his head under her hand.
Ronan sighed. "You need to be more careful, Ashyn, but I lay most of the blame at the feet of that guard who accompanies you. I'm starting to wonder if he's a farmer who stole the sword and boots. He ought to be arranging a nightly watch schedule and choosing safer campsites, preferably ones with a pissing spot nearby."
"A guard isn't expected to lead. I'll help him."
Ronan motioned her away from the rocky outcropping. "You've been through a great tragedy, and I ought not to have left. That shames me, Ashyn, but I hope to make up for it now." He looked into her eyes. "I was worried about you."
She blushed. "I understand why you--"
"No, there was no excuse. I told myself I was doing the right thing, going ahead to send help back, but you needed me. I failed you. I have barely slept these last three nights, thinking of what I'd done." Another look, deep into her eyes. "Thinking of you."
Ashyn felt her insides flutter. Was this not the stuff of bards' tales? The maiden who captured the heart of a rogue, who inspired him to rise to the role of warrior, devoted to her protection? Such pretty words. And they would be so much prettier if she didn't hear them in that same soft voice he'd used when he'd meekly thanked Moria for helping him get locked up in a dungeon cell.
"Do you play the lute?" she asked.
He blinked, that soulful look evaporating. "What?"
"The lute. Lies and false flattery go so much better with the strains of a lute. You ought to consider becoming a bard. You have a certain rakish charm. An eye patch would help, too."
His face darkened.
"Yes, definitely an eye patch," she continued. "You can concoct some tale of tragic bravery to explain how you lost your eye. Wait--I know one. You were maimed when you rescued a Seeker from the ruins of her ravaged village and escorted her through the Wastes. Then you heroically delivered her to court while expecting nothing in return." She paused. "You do expect nothing in return, I presume?"
"More gratitude and less mockery would be nice. But yes, if you insist, I will admit that I do hope for something. I hope to survive the Wastes, and I realized we both stand a better chance of that together."
"And that is all?"
"You may not wish to believe I came back for you, but I did, Ashyn. I was concerned. For you. A Seeker is a very valuable member of the empire."
"Valuable?"
"I meant important," he said. "It's the same thing."
"Not quite. You came back because you realized you had walked away from an opportunity that could turn you from pauper to lord, from exile to hero."
"I came back for you, Ashyn."
He said it with breathtaking sincerity, and she looked at him there, silhouetted against the pale moonlight, sword in hand, a scratch across his dirty cheek only making him seem more raffish.
Truly, Ashyn? Truly?