The Sartious Mage (The Rhythm of Rivalry) Page 6

I rolled up my sleeve and came toward her. “Tell me where it is.”

  She tried to kick at me, but the tarp constricted her knees, making her look more like she was trying to dance than fend me off. “You’re not reaching your hands into my tarp.”

  I stopped. “So, you would rather sleep outside without a bath?”

  “I would rather you fashion this thing so my arms can come out.”

  “No. I like it as it is.” I folded my arms as patiently as I could.

  I was so eager to start moving I barely could keep my tone indifferent, but she needed to know who was in charge. We weren’t moving until I knew we were ready. If I couldn’t get the purse out now, there was certainly no chance once we were out in public.

  “I’m about to start looking for it myself if you don’t tell me where it is.”

  “It’s a thigh purse, you worthless runt. And I won’t have your hands running up my legs.”

  Silence fell upon us. I bit my lip, knowing full well I was going to get that purse whether she liked it or not. I was just trying to figure out how to word it.

  “Well, I’m okay with sleeping outside,” I said. “But I’m going to have to gag you again when that time comes.”

  Her eyes widened. “No, not the gag.”

  I knew her revulsion toward my sweaty bandana was the only reason she wasn’t screaming at that moment. “So what’s your choice?” I asked.

  She gritted her teeth. I could tell she was thinking about screaming.

  She tried to force her way out of the tarp as she spoke. “My choice is that you take me back to the palace.” Her voice rose as she continued. “And then I want you to die for this! This was supposed to be my wedding day you…you pile of pig shit!”

  She seemed startled by her own words. Sudden remorse crossed her face.

  “Aww, was that your first time swearing?” I was half-joking, but it seemed to be the truth by her expression.

  “See what you made me do! And on my wedding day!” She slumped over, yet the tarp mostly kept her upright. Only her head pointed toward the ground. “This has got to be the worst wedding day anyone’s ever had,” she pouted.

  I doubted that, but there was no point arguing about it. I really didn’t have the patience to deal with this any longer. The sun was setting soon. I wanted to get her some clothes and walk a mile or two before we found an inn, otherwise we would have to spend another night in the city tomorrow. That was something I wanted to avoid at all costs.

  I started toward her. “I’m going for that purse now.”

  Lisanda kicked at me. “You will not touch me!” She waddled away.

  “Be still and I won’t touch you.” I held out my hands cautiously as I approached.

  She stopped, as did I. Only after a long examining stare did she speak.

  “Do you promise not to do anything…scandalous?”

  “I promise, at least not on purpose.” I knelt down in front of her but waited for her blessing to reach my hand in. For some reason it reminded me of the first time I’d milked a cow. I couldn’t have been older than six, but I still remember the strange mixture of excitement and trepidation when I sat on the stool and reached my hand underneath her while I listened to Sannil’s instructions.

  “It’s on the left,” the Princess whispered, pushing her legs together so that I could fit my hand between her leg and the tarp.

  “How far up is it?” I began reaching my hand under the tarp.

  “Far,” she said, even quieter now. “No,” she stopped me. “It’s on the other side.”

  “You said left.”

  “Yes, my left.”

  I rolled my eyes, withdrew my hand, and started up the other side. “I might touch your leg accidentally.” My wrist was in the tarp by then. I already could feel her warmth even though I hadn’t touched her.

  Then my hand grazed her knee. I quickly apologized, but she made no sound.

  Soon enough, I found it: a small leather pouch similar to the one in my pocket with the crackers Goreng gave me. I wasn’t sure why I’d kept them, as I had no intention to consume hallucinogens. But it seemed even more pointless to get rid of them.

  I tugged on the purse. “It won’t come loose.”

  “It’s latched on the other side.”

  “What do you mean, on the other side?”

  “I mean on the other side! It’s wrapped around my thigh and latched with a small hook.”

  It was hard to make eye contact with her from my position, but I wanted to see her face to make sure I understood this correctly. My whole arm was up inside her tarp. I was on both knees, nearly pressed against her. I pulled my neck back and strained my eyes as high as they could go.

  “The latch is against your inner thigh?” I asked.

  “Yes, you vile reprobate. That’s why I didn’t want to do this.”

  I took a long breath to ready myself. “Right, are you ready? This might get a little awkward.”

  “It’s already awkward. Just hurry up.”

  I traced my finger along the band to her inner thigh.

  “Jek.”

  “What?” I stopped and strained to look at her.

  “Don’t do anything stupid. I know it’s probably your sick dream to have your hand up my dress, but you’ll regret it if you so much as graze something you’re not supposed to.”

  I couldn’t believe her audacity, especially with my hand where it was. I thought most girls in her position would be too embarrassed or frightened to speak, but here she was making threats and insulting me.

  I brought my fingers over to the other side of her thigh. She spread her legs as far as she could under the tarp, which wasn’t very far. I tried not to focus on the skin of her other leg that my knuckle was grazing as I fiddled with the latch. I tried not to show how nervous I was when I couldn’t get it. I especially didn’t mean to realize how smooth her skin was.

  Finally, I felt the purse come loose. It fell to the ground with a satisfying clink. I picked it up and stood.

  “It had to be a thigh purse,” I muttered after a deep breath.

  “I’m getting hungry,” she replied nonchalantly.

  “Great,” I said sarcastically.

  Chapter 8: Scream

  “Why is everyone turning away from me?” Lisanda asked, keeping her voice low.

  “They think you’re mad, dressed like that. Wouldn’t you turn away from someone looking like you do?”

  The mud streaked across her face and hair was a bit too obvious, especially matched with her soiled tarp. There was no one even close to being as filthy as she was. She’d been so immaculate before, I’d felt I had to do something drastic. But looking at her now, it seemed as if I’d gone too far in the other direction. I took the bandana from my neck and brought it toward her.

  “No!” She whipped her head away. “You said no more gag if I cooperate.”

  “I’m going to clean some of that mud from your face. You stand out more than I’d like right now.”

  She apprehensively leaned back toward me. Her large eyes looked for something to rest upon besides my face while I wiped off her cheeks and forehead. I noticed there was some dirt caked into the long eyelash on her left eye. I shook out my bandana, trying to scrape off the mud it had collected. Then I told her to shut her eyes.

  She did. “Are you starting to realize how stupid it was to rub dirt in my face?”

  I carefully wiped the crumbs of dirt from her eyelash. “I’ll admit I went too far, although part of that was because you were squirming away from me.”

  We walked south for about an hour, looking for a dress to purchase. She had plenty of money, not that I planned to waste it on anything extravagant.

  It took some time, but we found a market buzzing with activity. There were solicitors behind wooden stands with fruit, meat, eggs, woven blankets, silverware, and more.

  Eventually, we came to a whole building dedicated to nothing but tunics; it was amazing. Well, I was amazed by it, as it was the fir
st time I’d been in a building designed for the sale of one type of item. Lisanda wasn’t impressed.

  “You can’t expect me to wear any of these,” she complained.

  The shopkeeper ran over to us the moment he saw Lisanda. “You’re covered in dirt! Don’t touch anything.”

  She turned to him with a tight face. “How dare you. Do you know who I am?”

  Bad, bad, bad. She’d lapsed into her princess voice. It was so quick, it seemed as if it was more of a reflex than anything else. In fact, the moment she finished speaking, her face loosened again and her eyes met mine. She looked to have surprised herself.

  The shopkeeper looked to me as well. “Is she right in the head?”

  “I apologize for that. We'll be sure not to soil anything that we aren’t ready to purchase.” I pulled her purse from my pocket and gave it a shake. It wasn’t the most humble motion, but it got the job done. He nodded and went back behind his desk.

  I folded my arms and looked at her, saying nothing.

  “I didn’t tell him, did I?” she asked rhetorically with a hint of spite. The corner of her mouth folded. Her lips were puffy, especially the middle of her top lip. It seemed to accentuate the movements of her mouth, making the slightest adjustment seem monumental. “It’s not like he would believe me anyway.” She turned away from my glaring face.

  “That’s true,” I admitted. It was one of the reasons I wasn’t alarmed. Until word spread about Lisanda’s kidnapping, no one would consider a dirty girl wrapped in a tarp to be a princess.

  Goreng had told me that the switch Giant pulled had changed the tunnel from the wardrobe to lead north instead of south. Most of the King’s efforts would be focused there first, giving me some time before those in the south knew of Lisanda’s disappearance.

  But I knew I had to be out of the city soon. News would flood over The Nest, and there was sure to be a reward for stopping me.

  “All these dresses are of poor quality,” Lisanda complained.

  “They’re fine. My sister wears something like this often.” I pulled down a green countrywoman’s tunic with gray arms and hood.

  “But I’m not an ugly farm girl.”

  That one stung a little, but I didn’t let it show. “We’re taking it.” I started toward the shopkeeper.

  “It’s too long! Did you even check that?”

  I stopped and held it in front of her. “It’s not nearly as long as your wedding dress was earlier.”

  She sighed. “You don’t know anything about dresses.”

  Too impatient to look around for anything else, I decided to get it. “We’ll take this one,” I announced.

  “A lovely choice,” the shopkeeper replied.

  “Fine, get it,” Lisanda said. “But don’t complain when I’m tripping trying to keep up with you.”

  Wisely, Lisanda decided not to change until she’d bathed. Her skin underneath the tarp was probably just as dirty as the tarp itself.

  We found an inn rather quickly, as there was one near the market, but there was still time left in the day, so I made the Princess walk another mile instead.

  She didn’t like that at all.

  After giving me an earful, she switched to complaining about being hungry and dirty, and then eventually about me taking her from the palace. But it died down when I told her we’d retire at the next inn we found—only if it had a bath, I reassured her.

  I was eager for a bath as well. Six days was too long, even for a farm boy like me.

  A few times I caught her scrunching her cheeks awkwardly as we walked. When I asked, she told me her face itched. I offered to scratch it for her, and she gave me a look like I’d just said something stupid. We didn’t talk for the rest of the way.

  The inn we found was a modest one-story. A woman was scrubbing tables while another shuffled across the floor with a broom. At the sight of Lisanda, the one with the broom stopped and squinted before cautiously coming over.

  “Do you have baths here?” I asked.

  “We do,” the woman replied. It was clear she was trying to keep her eyes off Lisanda but wanted to stare at the same time. “Would you like a room as well? We have one available.”

  “Yes, that would be—”

  “I am Lisanda Takary, daughter of King Danvell Takary!” the Princess burst out. “I demand this man beside me be arrested for kidnapping me!”

  My shock was so overwhelming I was frozen solid. How long had she planned this? Or did she just see these women and make a quick judgment call that they would believe her? Was it possible these women would believe her? I glanced at each of them. The one scrubbing tables had stopped to stare curiously. The one in front of us had a look of worry.

  “Call the guards! What are you waiting for?” Lisanda yelled.

  “Will you quiet that crazy girl?” the woman in front of me pleaded in a loud whisper. “We have sleeping guests.”

  “I’m not crazy. Help me!” Lisanda raised her voice.

  “Get her out of here.” The woman pointed to the door. “Leave, now.”

  “Come on.” Unwilling to touch her tarp, I put my hand on the back of her neck and pushed her toward the door.

  “Why don’t you believe me?” Her question was meek. She knew she’d lost. And we both knew what was next.

  The moment we were outside, she begged, “Please, don’t gag me.”

  I didn’t untie the bandana from my neck just yet, only because I was worried she would scream the moment I went for it. Part of me also knew that wearing a dirty tarp made her look crazy, but a gagged girl in a tarp would make me look suspicious. Crazy was the only thing working for me so far.

  She needed some sort of punishment, though; otherwise, she would do it again. The first thing that came to mind was a physical punishment. But I couldn’t even bring myself to consider it wholeheartedly. With my hand still on her neck, I started walking south as I wondered what else I could do.

  I let go of her when it was clear she was intent on walking beside me.

  Her stride in the tarp had always been meager, but with night settling upon us, and both of us famished, her pace was even slower than usual. I realized what the punishment was then.

  “Thanks to that scene you made, we have to find another inn.” I spoke with my coldest voice.

  We walked the better part of a hundred steps before she spoke. “You’re not going to gag me?”

  “How hungry are you?” I asked.

  “Starving.”

  “How thirsty are you?”

  “Extremely.”

  “How tired are you?”

  “On the verge of passing out.”

  “How much worse could things be right now?”

  She took a slow breath to think. “Not much worse, I guess.”

  “Then I’ll save the threat of the gag for when it’s more useful.”

  She kept her head forward but turned subtly to look from the side of her eye. I could tell she was trying to study my face without me noticing.

  “What will you do if I do that again?” she whispered.

  “Is that something you’re planning?” I would’ve turned to her with a scowl, but I was too tired.

  “No,” she answered in a defeated voice.

  We walked a whole mile, each too exhausted to argue. She did say one thing, actually, not that I replied. She told me that her feet hurt. I looked at her shoes, possibly for the first time. They must’ve been the same shoes she planned to wear at her wedding. They seemed closer to slippers than shoes, made from flexible leather dyed white. More of her foot was showing than the shoe itself. They were definitely not meant for walking long distances.

  When I finally saw an inn, I was more worried than relieved because if it didn’t have a place to bathe, that wouldn’t stop me from renting a room. That meant my promise would be broken—something I’d hoped to avoid. But we needed food, water, and sleep. If she didn’t understand that—too bad. She’d ruined her chance to bathe in the last inn with her demand
for my arrest.

  I could feel both devastation and relief building as I opened the door to the inn. One of them would overcome me depending on whether there was a bathing room. Lisanda must’ve felt the same way—we were in the same situation, after all. Though, by the look on her face, it seemed as if she felt more optimistic than I did.

  “What the Bastial hell is she wearing?” The innkeeper spotted us and rushed over before I got a good look around.

  I half expected Lisanda to give him a sharp retort, but instead her face fell to the floorboards.

  I ignored the question. “We’re very tired and have had a terrible day,” I said as an excuse to speed things along. “The sooner we can have a bath, a meal, and a bed, the better. I’m hoping you can offer each of these things?” I shook the purse of coins. It felt awkward to show off money like that, but from our appearance, it seemed necessary.

  The innkeeper had a small face with a pointy nose. His wide mouth straightened in consideration. With only a few table lamps to light the room, his eyes were just as dark as Lisanda’s hair.

  “It’s quite late,” he said. “I can promise you a bath and a room, but let me speak to the cook about a meal.”

  A bath! I was so relieved my hunger was forgotten for a breath. But a thought stifled my excitement—how would I make sure Lisanda wouldn’t take advantage of the privacy during a bath to escape?

  I had an idea, although she wasn’t going to like it.

  “Thank you,” I told the innkeeper. He hurried off to the kitchen.

  Lisanda desperately wanted to sit. I could see it on her face as she stared at an empty chair ahead of us. We said nothing as we waited for the innkeeper to return, simply stood and shifted weight from one foot to the other.

  “You’re in luck,” the innkeeper told us. “We have some leftover potatoes and bacon, but both will be quite crispy upon their second heating.”

  Lisanda pouted softly, obviously hoping for a better meal.

  “That would be great,” I answered. “We would like to bathe first, if you don’t mind.” I wasn’t about to take off Lisanda’s tarp until she was ready to change into the tunic. That wedding gown would be too conspicuous.

  “Certainly…two baths?” the innkeeper asked hesitantly, giving Lisanda a curious tilt of his head. He clearly wanted her to bathe before she touched a bed or really anything in his inn.