A frigid misting of rain fell as they rode south toward Unbrauchbar, allowing the horses to decide the path and pace. They were in no hurry, and every time Stehlen thought about Wichtig she knew exactly where he was. The idiot wasn’t moving very fast, which was unusual for Wichtig. For all his endless spew about being an artist and a poet, she never once saw him slow or stop to admire a beautiful scene. Not that there was much to look at in Gottlos. Unless one had a finely-honed appreciation for endless dirt and stones.
Gods, Wichtig is such an arse.
And what a fine arse he had too. You could bounce coins off it. She thought about the way his broad shoulders tapered down to a slim waist, the way the sun caught the red in his brown hair. And the way he stared at her with those flat grey eyes every time he desperately wanted her to believe something stupid. How many times had he offered to bed her? She knew each and every offer was yet another pathetic attempt at manipulation—aimed at her or Bedeckt—but still regretted never taking up his offers, insincere as they might have been. He may have been trying to use her, but she’d have been using him just as much.
Feeling a little warm even in the icy rain, Stehlen darted a guilty glance at Lebendig. Her lover looked to be lost in thought, staring off into the distance.
The ears of three horses perked.
“They heard something,” Stehlen said.
The beasts veered right, their pace remaining lazy.
Lebendig stood in her stirrups to get a better look. “I don’t see…oh—”
“What?”
“There’s something…” Lebendig glanced at Stehlen, saw the hand reaching for a weapon and shook her head. “Not like that.” She flashed a quick smile. “Can you have an oasis outside of the desert?”
An oasis? What the hells was Lebendig talking about?
The horses followed a winding gully sinking between two large hills of mud and rock, their hooves squelching with every step. As they rounded another bend, Stehlen saw what Lebendig meant. There, a few hundred strides deeper into the valley, lay a lake surrounded by a copse of perhaps a score of healthy trees. It was the first green Stehlen saw since leaving Selbsthass.
“We can get out of the rain,” said Lebendig, gesturing toward the trees. “Shelter until it lets up.”
“This isn’t going to stop any time soon.”
“Be nice to be dry,” said Lebendig. “If only for a while. We in a rush?”
Stehlen glanced south, thinking about Wichtig. He still had only half a day on them. He’s moving slow too. Returning her attention to the Swordswoman she said, “No rush.”
Lebendig did that smile with her eyes thing and pushed her horse into the lead. Stehlen followed, watching the easy sway of her lover’s hips. It would be nice to be dry. Maybe they could find enough wood to have a fire. More than anything, she wanted to sit at Lebendig’s side, say nothing and hold hands. She wanted to escape herself, forget her fears and doubts. Forget the hideous figurine carved in her likeness. Her fingers itched with the need to examine it again.
Throw it in the fire. The thought left her shaking with fear.
“Gods,” said Lebendig, glancing over he shoulder. “You’re shivering!” Dismounting, she led her horse under the nearest tree, a towering oak.
Stehlen followed, grinding her teeth to still the shivers. “I’m fine,” she said, sliding from the saddle. No rain fell beneath the tree. Soft grass flowed around her ankles in hypnotic waves, moving to a breeze she couldn’t feel.
Lebendig ignored her words, drawing a towel from deep in a pack and bustling about Stehlen like a doting mother. The Swordswoman set about drying Stehlen’s hair with the same efficient energy she brought to a sword fight, buffeting the much slighter Kleptic.
“Does towelling dry usually leave bruises for you?” asked Stehlen.
“Shut up,” said Lebendig, working on the tangled mat of hair. Finally, she stepped back, examining her handiwork with furrowed brows. “Shite.”
“What?”
“I accidentally made a clean spot on your face.”
“Oh, ha—”
Lebendig ducked her head, dropping a quick and warm kiss on Stehlen’s lips, silencing the Kleptic. “Now strip.”
Stehlen raised an eyebrow. “Really? Again? Here?”
“You’re soaked through.”
“So are you.”
“The cold doesn’t bother me.” The Swordswoman slapped a muscled shoulder. “More meat. You…” She nodded at Stehlen’s thin frame. “Bone and leather.”
“You make me sound so appealing,” grouched Stehlen.
“You know I like it. Now strip.”
While Stehlen peeled her sodden clothes off, leaving only the oldest most faded scarves wrapping her wrists, Lebendig collected wood and lit a fire.