“Who?” I pushed the word out on the small puff of air left in me.
“I don’t know their names,” she spat at me, as if I’d insulted her by insinuating she might know the names of servants. “And what does it matter now? It happened to her. It happened to me. They came into my room. One seized my jewelry box. Two others came after me. I threw things at them and screamed and hit them. My maid fought, but only for a moment. Then she stood like a cow and watched when they attacked me. She didn’t make a sound when they pushed her down on the floor and took her. It took two of them to hold me down. I fought them.” A tiny bit of pride in those words, and then it became ash as she choked. “But they laughed while they did it to me. Mocked me because they were stronger. Afterward, they dragged me out to be with the others. The only reason it didn’t happen to you was because they think you’re a boy and special somehow.” She looked away from me. How angry she was at me, that they had not hurt me as they had hurt her! She stood slowly, letting her skirts fall around her. “You probably think I should thank you for saving me. Well, I’m not sure you did. Maybe that last man would have left me alive, and at least I’d still be at home. Now, when they find out you’re female, I think we’ll both face a lot worse.”
“Can we get away?”
“How? Look. That woman stands and watches where we’ve gone. If we don’t come back soon, she’ll send someone after us. And when else can we slip away?”
My belly did not like their food, but there was nothing to wipe myself with. I braced myself, took a handful of snow, and cleaned my bottom with that before pulling my leggings back up. Shun watched me dispassionately with no regard for my privacy. “It’s that brown soup,” she said.
“What?”
“Can you say something besides ‘what’ or ‘who’? The brown soup they give us. It goes right through you. I started pretending to drink it yesterday. Then I didn’t fall asleep right away. It has something in it to make you sleep so they can rest during the day and not have to watch us.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Training,” she said tersely. “Before I came to live with you, I had some training. Lord Chade saw to that. He sent this awful old woman named Quiver to teach me all sorts of things. How to throw a knife. Where to hit someone who grabs you. Chade said she was preparing me to be an assassin. I don’t think she did very well at it, but I do know how to protect myself.” She stopped speaking and her face sagged. “A little,” she amended.
I didn’t point out that she hadn’t done very well at that back at the manor. No sense stinging her pride. I wanted to know more, but I heard Dwalia call to one of her helpers and point toward us.
“Pretend to be sleepy. Droop your eyes and walk slowly behind me. And don’t try to talk to me unless I talk to you first. They can’t know.”
I nodded, folding my lips tight. I wanted to tell her that I could be just as alert and wary as she was, just as clever at knowing when it was safe for us to talk. But Shun had already let her face droop into that unresponsive mask she had been wearing since she was hauled to the sleigh. I wondered if she had been pretending all that time. A wave of panic rose up in me. I wasn’t as perceptive as she was. I’d heard them saying I was a boy, but hadn’t had the will to care that they were wrong. Nor the experience to be afraid they would find out I wasn’t who or what they thought I was. I hadn’t feared what would happen when they found out. Now I did. My heart was leaping and thudding. The brown soup tried to make me sleepy and my fear tried to make me be awake. How could I look sleepy when I could scarcely catch my breath?
Shun stumbled, or pretended to stumble against me. As she caught herself on my shoulder, she pinched me hard. “Sleepy,” she warned me on a breath. Her mouth barely moved.
“Shaysim, are you well? Did your bowels move in a satisfactory way?” Odessa spoke as if chatting about my bowels were as courteous a topic as the weather.
I shook my head at her and put my hands low on my belly. I felt sick with fear. Perhaps I could disguise fear as discomfort. “I just want to sleep,” I told her.