looked ridiculous.
"What?"
"My Lord, you've just given me the most flawless, womanly curtsy. The only thing you're missing is a dress."
His cheeks flushed, but he kept his composure. "Well then, I will leave you with a simple farmer's bow instead."
"And what does that look like?"
Colin turned and bent over, stuck out his rear end, and made a mooo -ing noise like a cow.
She laughed. It felt strange, and she stopped it as soon as she could catch her breath. The laugh wasn't planned; wasn't part of the script. She could lose control if she let things like that continue.
As she watched him cover the plateau with long strides, she pondered the boy. Simpleton or no, there was no pretense about him. He was who he was, no matter who was watching, even if it was a girl he wanted to take to the harvest festival. Urus was the only other person she had ever met who hid nothing beneath guise or artifice.
Convinced Colin had gone, she continued on her way to the edge of the plateau, where the flat, grassy plain gave way to small vertical drops of white stone that marked the beginning of the foothills.
She scanned the hills and found the stone outcropping she was looking for. Checking again to make sure nobody was around, she made a quick dash for the stone.
Taking a deep breath, she reached out and scraped her finger against the jagged rock. Thin drips of blood pulsed out of the small cut. All she needed was a few drops. She rubbed her finger on the rock, leaving a little circle of red on the white stone.
She knelt, then pressed her finger to the red dot and closed her eyes. She felt the power of the blood magic course through her veins, felt it connect with the blood on the rock and surge outward through the stone as if it were growing blood vessels of its own. She commanded the stone to recede and it obeyed.
A door opened just wide enough to admit her into the darkness beyond. She stepped through, and listened to the stone grind shut behind her. She made her way through the cave, pressing her hands against the cave walls for guidance, gradually descending into the earth below the grazing range above.
A few minutes later, as the damp chill left the air, her hand brushed against the cold iron of a sconce holding a torch. She squeezed another drop of blood from her finger onto the head and it flamed to life, illuminating a large cavern. She lit three more torches the same way and then found her favorite spot—a flat piece of rock used as a bench—and sat in it.
The room was a natural chamber connected to a network of caves that ran underneath the entire plateau. Candles and torches lined the walls and lay stacked on boxes and wrapped in hay to keep the moisture out. In here she had stored bushels of stolen fruit, loaves of bread, cheese, bottles of wine, even a few chunks of salt pork. Across from her stone bench lay a box with coins, silver place settings, and other valuables she'd stolen that might be easily turned into money. All of this was just in case she needed to escape in a hurry; all for when inevitable came to pass.
Nothing was permanent, Cailix had learned long ago. As nice as the Jepps family seemed to be, it wouldn't last. It never did. They all eventually got sick of her, or died like the monks had. She couldn't count on anyone to take care of her; she had to do that herself.
After washing down a few pieces of bread with a slurp of wine from an open bottle, she got up and made her way to the back of the room, a spot where three adjoining tunnels connected to the chamber.
There, hanging from a hook in the ceiling, was a sheep, cut from neck to pelvis and legs bound, a bucket below filled with dark blood, another bucket holding the entrails. The animal had wandered away from the herd and followed her to the cave entrance a few days before. Not wanting it to lead the other sheep or shepherd dogs to the cave, she had killed it.
She couldn't just let the blood go to waste. Blood held power, and power
"What?"
"My Lord, you've just given me the most flawless, womanly curtsy. The only thing you're missing is a dress."
His cheeks flushed, but he kept his composure. "Well then, I will leave you with a simple farmer's bow instead."
"And what does that look like?"
Colin turned and bent over, stuck out his rear end, and made a mooo -ing noise like a cow.
She laughed. It felt strange, and she stopped it as soon as she could catch her breath. The laugh wasn't planned; wasn't part of the script. She could lose control if she let things like that continue.
As she watched him cover the plateau with long strides, she pondered the boy. Simpleton or no, there was no pretense about him. He was who he was, no matter who was watching, even if it was a girl he wanted to take to the harvest festival. Urus was the only other person she had ever met who hid nothing beneath guise or artifice.
Convinced Colin had gone, she continued on her way to the edge of the plateau, where the flat, grassy plain gave way to small vertical drops of white stone that marked the beginning of the foothills.
She scanned the hills and found the stone outcropping she was looking for. Checking again to make sure nobody was around, she made a quick dash for the stone.
Taking a deep breath, she reached out and scraped her finger against the jagged rock. Thin drips of blood pulsed out of the small cut. All she needed was a few drops. She rubbed her finger on the rock, leaving a little circle of red on the white stone.
She knelt, then pressed her finger to the red dot and closed her eyes. She felt the power of the blood magic course through her veins, felt it connect with the blood on the rock and surge outward through the stone as if it were growing blood vessels of its own. She commanded the stone to recede and it obeyed.
A door opened just wide enough to admit her into the darkness beyond. She stepped through, and listened to the stone grind shut behind her. She made her way through the cave, pressing her hands against the cave walls for guidance, gradually descending into the earth below the grazing range above.
A few minutes later, as the damp chill left the air, her hand brushed against the cold iron of a sconce holding a torch. She squeezed another drop of blood from her finger onto the head and it flamed to life, illuminating a large cavern. She lit three more torches the same way and then found her favorite spot—a flat piece of rock used as a bench—and sat in it.
The room was a natural chamber connected to a network of caves that ran underneath the entire plateau. Candles and torches lined the walls and lay stacked on boxes and wrapped in hay to keep the moisture out. In here she had stored bushels of stolen fruit, loaves of bread, cheese, bottles of wine, even a few chunks of salt pork. Across from her stone bench lay a box with coins, silver place settings, and other valuables she'd stolen that might be easily turned into money. All of this was just in case she needed to escape in a hurry; all for when inevitable came to pass.
Nothing was permanent, Cailix had learned long ago. As nice as the Jepps family seemed to be, it wouldn't last. It never did. They all eventually got sick of her, or died like the monks had. She couldn't count on anyone to take care of her; she had to do that herself.
After washing down a few pieces of bread with a slurp of wine from an open bottle, she got up and made her way to the back of the room, a spot where three adjoining tunnels connected to the chamber.
There, hanging from a hook in the ceiling, was a sheep, cut from neck to pelvis and legs bound, a bucket below filled with dark blood, another bucket holding the entrails. The animal had wandered away from the herd and followed her to the cave entrance a few days before. Not wanting it to lead the other sheep or shepherd dogs to the cave, she had killed it.
She couldn't just let the blood go to waste. Blood held power, and power
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