Amaskan's Blood, Raven Oak [read me a book .TXT] 📗

own features, mostly failing though she applauded the attempt. “Princess Margaret is marrying Prince Gamun of Shad, as was arranged in the peace treaty signed at the end of the Little War of Three. More than that, I wouldn’t know—being so far out here at the border.”

“Among my people, travel is encouraged,” she said as she took a brush to Midnight. “You’ve been stationed here at the border, as you said. Have your people not seen a Sadain citizen before?”

His hands tensed along the stall’s gate. “We have, Master Adelei. What gives you the impression that we have not?”

Adelei faced him. “Since the moment I set foot in this garrison, you and everyone stationed here have been nervous, if not borderline rude. I have to wonder why that is? Surely your orders from His Majesty stressed the importance of my visit.”

“My apologies, Master. My soldiers… well, they think you’re Amaskan, and honestly, I understand their assumption.” His eyes stopped on the corner of her jaw just below her ear and then continued on to her bald head, which peeked out beneath her scarf.

“I assure you that I am not, despite my appearances. There are sects in Sadai, holy orders that share the belief of removing hair from the body, the vessel, in order to remain closer to the Gods.”

“And the scratch?”

“I cut myself shaving.” For a moment, she worried he might push the issue, but after a heartbeat, he nodded ever so slowly. “I appreciate your concern for the safety of your people, I do. It’s the sign of a good, strong commander. I think perhaps I would like to find somewhere to rest, if I might.”

“Certainly.”

She followed him from the stables where soldiers busied themselves at their tasks as if not a one of them had been eavesdropping on the conversation between their lieutenant and the supposed killer in their midst.

A tavern easily ten times her own in height stood nearby. Another stable, what looked to be barracks by the number of people entering and leaving, and several smaller buildings stood to her right. To the left, a rectangular stone structure that smelled of a dinner hall set her stomach rumbling.

A young woman exited, her hands full with a plate of food. When she caught sight of Adelei and the lieutenant, the woman stumbled back a few steps, and the tray tumbled from her fingers. Adelei sighed at the reaction, but followed as the Lieutenant led her toward the smallest of three buildings. The door slid open to her guest quarters, complete with a private bathing area.

These were quarters reserved for dignitaries for sure. People with more money than her. A few rugs and paintings decorated the larger living area, which gave the place a roomier feel than the garrison’s exterior. On the occasion that she could afford to stay at an inn, she’d enjoyed the ability to bathe regularly without the need of a creek or lake but always in a common bath house. Never in private. Not like this.

Being dirty was dangerous as sweat grew into smells that even the stuffiest of noses could detect. Despite this, not even the Order had the wealth or the room to give every member a private bath. Alexander must have been rich indeed to afford guest rooms this elaborate at the border.

“Just about everything you need should be here. If you should get hungry, the larger building north of here is the dining hall. If you need anything else, all you need to do is ask Sergeant Fenton. He’ll be just outside your room—for your protection.”

So she was to be guarded. Good. For all they knew, she was a ruthless killer. To the lieutenant, she nodded her thanks. He took his leave, and with sore feet she scampered to the bathing chamber where she found water pipes, a small metal tub, and plenty of lye. Lye soap wasn’t the most comfortable way to bathe, but the small metal tub was a vast improvement over no bath at all. One turn of the knob and hot water poured from the pipes to fill the tub.

Using her own bristled brush, she scrubbed her skin near raw and removed a week’s worth of dust and grime. Only after she’d repeated the scrub three times over, did her body feel clean. Adelei left the mud-colored water behind. Without a thought for anything else, she crawled, eyes drooping and stomach forgotten, into the available bed and was asleep before midnight for the first time in a week.

CHAPTER FIVE

Brieghton Border Garrison; 255 Cercian 2nd

Adelei woke, muscles stiff and blankets twisted around her legs and feet from a night of dreaming. Something about fleeing on horseback, only she had been thrown over the saddle. The same old dream. The muddled memory puzzled her, and she pushed it aside. When she stood, her thigh cramped, and she stretched up on tiptoes to release the strain.

Last evening, she’d lacked the time and energy to examine the room, but now that the sun shone through the single window, she found it less impressive than the day before. Sleep gave her fresh eyes that noticed the hole in the colorful rug and the burn mark on the window covering.

With sunrise, heat enveloped the room like a roaring fireplace. Adelei chose another tunic and breeches of thin, white silk to wear and winced at the sight of it. White. Why did it have to be white? It was too easy to stain and made her a moving target. Her fingers lingered on the black clothing in her travel bag.

She pulled the tunic over her head and tucked the ends into the waist of her breeches. A cloth belt wrapped around her waist, and two more around the sleeves of her tunic. Adelei kicked at the air, testing the tight fabric’s movement. Not as flexible as the Order’s gear, but it would have to do.

Her black riding boots marred the outfit’s appearance, but she didn’t have the room in her