Stehlen rode toward Selbsthass City, Lebendig Durchdachter at her side. A lifetime of murder and thievery and unrequited longing and she had to die to find love. She stole a glance at the Swordswoman, her gaze following the rolling play of muscles even the chain hauberk couldn’t hide. Lebendig was everything Bedeckt could have been, were he decades younger, not fat, smarter, better looking, more willing to show affection, and female. In a fair fight between Stehlen and Lebendig, the Swordswoman would win every time. Not that Stehlen ever fought fair. Fair was for idiots and Swordsmen. But not Swordswomen. Lebendig was different.
Noticing Stehlen’s attention, Lebendig flashed a smile—something having far more to do with her pale eyes than her lips. Moving her horse closer, she reached out to lay a hand upon Stehlen’s.
Stehlen caught a glimpse of Lebendig’s blanched strawberry hair and remembered the way it smelled of steel and sweat. Hewn short above the Swordswoman’s brow, her hair hung to her waist when not braided and tucked into the plain iron helm.
“Never been to Selbsthass,” said Lebendig. “Got the impression our kind weren’t welcome.” She did the smile with the eyes thing again. “Even in the Afterdeath.”
Our kind. We are one and the same. The thought glowed warm in Stehlen’s chest. “We aren’t,” she said. She turned her attention to the city ahead and the guards at the gate. “Bedeckt says he wants to meet at the Leichtes Haus.”
Lebendig waited, knowing Stehlen wasn’t finished.
She knows me so well, understands me. “We stayed there last time we were here. But in the living world.”
Lebendig waited.
“When we left I killed everyone. Every drunk. Every whore barmaid.”
Lebendig’s eyebrow twitched at the word whore and her hand slid from Stehlen’s.
“I had to,” said Stehlen. “Bedeckt was wounded, dying. I had to be sure no one would follow us.”
Lebendig nodded once, accepting. Stehlen loved her for it.
“Why does he want to meet there?” Stehlen asked. “Is it some kind of subtle message?”
“If it were Wichtig,” said Lebendig, hesitating a moment before pronouncing the Swordsman’s name, “I would agree. But Bedeckt… He’d tell you what he wants you to know. It’s probably the only inn he remembers.”
She was right. The old man might love planning jobs in infinite detail, but he was as subtle as a kick in the plums. Stehlen’s throat tightened at the memory of trying to suck breath past a crushed trachea. She still owed him that kick. And plenty more.
They rode on in comfortable silence, approaching the western gate. Stehlen examined the guards out of habit. They were alert and ready, looking like they expected trouble, hands resting on sword pommels. These were no bored slouches.
I could still kill them.
They wouldn’t stand a chance. Men in such armour moved far too slow. They’d be dead before they knew they were in a fight. Really, was there a better way? Only idiots and Swordsmen warned their opponents they were about to be attacked.
She stole another glance at Lebendig.
Is she really different, or is that what I want to see? The woman had pursued the title of Greatest Swordsman…woman…person in the World. That doesn’t mean she shares other traits with Wichtig, does it? She hated the thought.
Stehlen adjusted her sleeve, tucking a stray scarf, faded and pale with age, out of sight. She wore fewer than when alive and, somehow, that had something to do with the burly Swordswoman. Maybe someday I’ll throw away the oldest scarf, the one I took from mother. No. Not until she was punished. But being with Lebendig made it seem possible, not that she might finally be punished for her crimes, but that she might not have to be.
You love her.
Her chest hurt.
But why would she love you?
Why indeed. Stehlen understood her own reasons—even if she was uncomfortable examining them—but Lebendig’s remained a mystery. It wasn’t like she could just ask.
She’s with you because she has no choice.
No, that wasn’t true.
Really? The Warrior’s Credo: Those whom you slay must serve. You killed her.
And not even for a good reason. She killed Lebendig to annoy Wichtig, to steal something from him above and beyond mere gold.
She has no choice.
Stehlen ground blunt, yellow teeth. Lebendig would stay with her even if she were freed.
Free her. Find out.
She couldn’t.
Coward.
Stehlen shoved the thought aside. She was happy with Lebendig, comfortable in a way she never was with other people. Not even with herself. She thought about those nights she lay nestled in the woman’s strong arms, sheltered and protected.
Do I love her?
She knew the answer but shied from admitting it. Even to herself. Especially to herself. There was something about the woman that reminded her of— Shite.
Bedeckt.
In spite of their many differences, Lebendig reminded Stehlen of Bedeckt. It felt like a betrayal.
Yet Lebendig was very different. She showed affection like it was a challenge to the world. A few days ago some drunk back in what remained of Neidrig commented on Stehlen and Lebendig’s relationship in snide tones. The Swordswoman cut him down without hesitation. One moment he was a snarky arsehole, the next, meat for the dogs.