"My lord prince. I--I had not realized--"
Tyrus cut him off. "Then I would suggest you spend less time staring at your books and more at your surroundings. It is quite impossible to miss a Wildcat of the Immortals or a Hound of the Immortals. Not to mention the fact that the only two women in our caravan are twins."
"Y-yes, your highness. I do apologize. My thoughts were elsewhere." He stepped forward. "My name is--"
"Oh, there's no need to tell me. I'll not bother to remember it."
The young man's face mottled as his gaze dropped.
"You are Simeon of Mistvale," Tyrus said. "Assistant to Katsumoto. I know who I travel with."
That rebuke seemed to cut even deeper than the first, and Simeon stuttered an apology. Meanwhile, Moria wandered to his writing desk, peering down at the undamaged papers.
"You are a teller of stories?" she said.
Before Simeon could answer, Tyrus cut in. "Of a sort, one could say. I'm certain he'd be more than happy to entertain you with a tale tonight."
"I--" Simeon began.
"More than happy," Tyrus said.
Ashyn knew Katsumoto's name--he was a great scholar, not a bard. But Tyrus gave Simeon a look that forbade argument. This was the prince's lesson in making presumptions of identity.
"You'll sing our Keeper a song tonight, at the fire," he said. "I'd choose a rare one. She has quite the knowledge of tales, and you'll find she's easily bored. And when she's bored . . . you noted the daggers, I take it?"
Moria made a face at Tyrus. He smiled and waved for the girls to come out with him, leaving Simeon looking as if he'd just been ordered to commit ritual suicide.
NINE
Tyrus didn't actually make Simeon play bard. Shortly before the evening fire, he told Moria Simeon's true occupation, likely more to save her from embarrassment than Simeon. For the night's entertainment, someone played a flute, then someone sang a tale. Neither performance was expertly done, but there was no place for bards and musicians on such a journey. Moria grumbled that there was no place for frivolity at all--they should get to sleep and rise sooner. Tyrus had compromised by allowing the men this brief entertainment before declaring they'd rise at dawn and must retire sooner than usual.
Ashyn had settled her own anxieties with a tumbler of honey wine. A small tumbler, but the alcohol was enough to have her up in the night, needing to rid herself of the added liquid. She sighed and tossed and turned, hoping to rouse Moria. Moria and Daigo both slept as if dead. When she could not hold out any longer, she "accidentally" stumbled over Tyrus's legs making her way past him. He didn't stir.
It was not that she feared walking from camp after dark. It was simply . . . well, she seemed to have bad luck with it. First, on the Wastes, she'd encountered a giant scorpion. Then, between Fairview and the imperial city, she'd been taken captive by a merchant who'd hoped to sell her to a distant king.
At least she had Tova with her. When they crested a small hillock, the hound lifted his head, growling softly. There was no sign of anyone about at first, but he continued to growl until a figure slipped along the thin line of trees.
Ashyn ducked and took out her dagger. Tova hunkered with Ashyn as she flattened onto her stomach. In the distance she heard . . .
No. She tilted her head, frowning. She did not hear anything. She felt . . . It was an odd sensation, beyond description, as if she sensed someone calling to her.
Whatever she felt, it didn't come from the approaching figure, which had stopped twenty paces from the hillock. Tova lifted his muzzle and sniffed the air. Then he let out an annoyed chuff.
"Seeker?" a voice whispered. "Ashyn?"
It was Simeon. Ashyn barely stifled a growl of her own. She rose and made her way back down the hillock.
"You are there," he whispered loudly. "I thought I saw the hound leaving camp."
Tova grunted, as if apologizing to Ashyn.
"And you followed me?" she said. "You may not know court manners, but in what part of the empire is that appropriate?"
"I . . . I know I ought not to approach a young woman alone, but I thought with your hound in attendance, it was acceptable."
"I mean following me at night, away from the camp."
He blushed. "Yes, of course. I had not considered . . ."