In Which Riona Is Mocked by the Eyes

February 16, 1175

"Just a second!"

Riona pulled Lonriad's tunic over her head and pushed the drawer shut. What good was a private room if she couldn't even have ten minutes without someone banging on the door? She'd been about to turn in for the night. She'd been about to curl up in bed with a board and a quill and a fresh sheet of parchment she'd swiped from the market and write home--just a quick note, something vague, telling her family not to worry. Of course, the question would have been how to get it back to Naroni, how to get it to her father without actually addressing it to him... but it was the thought that counted, right?

At least, that was what she'd have to tell herself if the interruptions continued. At least it was probably just Casimiro. "All right, make it quick."

"All right." Damn. It wasn't Casimiro, but Isidro.

Riona groaned. "What do you want?"

"No need to bite my head off." He shut the door and shuffled toward her, his right foot dragging as it often did. "I just noticed that you headed up here a little early and couldn't help but wonder why."

"Oh, I don't know--to get some sleep, maybe?" Christ, couldn't he just leave it at that? The way she was being treated by all of them except Casimiro, she'd figured no one would have noticed her leaving. Then again, Isidro was a bit uncanny. "We have to be on the road pretty early tomorrow."

Beneath the most prominent of his scars, his dark brow arched. "We just had supper."

"Yes, well, I'm a bit tired."

"You're never tired." How could he look so smug without smiling? Asshole. "Look, let's get something straight here. You don't like me and I don't like you, but we're stuck together as long as you choose to stay with my party, so we might as well get used to it. Anyway, I'm here to extend the olive branch."

...Eh? The only olive branch she could think for him to extend was to leave. She wanted to get comfortable. She wanted to figure out what to do about this letter. She wanted to get out of these disgusting clothes. But this was a man who did not like to make things simple. "All right..."

"Bernardo and I were going to head down to this little place just outside the village. Care to join us?"

A chilling panic spread from her core to the ends of her limbs. Just her and Isidro and Bernardo? Bernardo was all right, but it wasn't as if they were friends, and of course Isidro... "Uh... what about the others?"

Isidro shrugged. She might have gotten more of a response had she asked for a fucking bedtime story. "Oh, Augustin and my father have better things to do, and Casimiro doesn't really care for what we have in mind."

Somehow, that didn't sound promising. "Why doesn't Casimiro want to go? Is it something unsavory? Something he's too much of a gentleman for?"

Pushing a strand of thick dark hair to the side, Isidro sniffed. "That's one way of putting it, perhaps... but surely you wouldn't be opposed to bit of youthful hi-jinx? Would you, Searle?"

Maybe this was what Isidro was good for. He seemed to take every opportunity possible to remind her of her supposed identity, to make her think about what this 'Searle' would do. Was Searle opposed to youthful hi-jinx? "No..."

"Good." Isidro flipped back his hair, the soft candlelight of the room playing on his face in such a way that he was almost pretty; shame that his eyes were mocking her. "Bernardo's waiting downstairs. Grab some money and we'll go."

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