He Takes Her to Dinner

He waited outside the gates of Bree. The stowaway emerged after an hour or so. Quicker than he'd expected, especially after seeing Lemrad show up at the bar. He'd thought the woman might entertain the fellow for a while.

When she approached, she seemed in good spirits. That was always striking. Taken for granted given how often he'd been near her, to the point he was strangely used to it.

More than this, though, she wore a fine gown. She had pinned her hair up. While maintaining that fizgig brand of beauty she'd had since he first saw her climb into his boat, she'd somehow adorned herself to a more regal facade. Elegant and lovely.

He made no comment, but she must have seen the way he looked her over, because there was a gleam to her expression that gave away her vanity. As if she'd just seen a flattering portrait of herself in his eyes. Curse her.

He offered her a hand up to mount the mare, and he followed suit upon the horse she'd traded him after their recent combined good fortune.

Together, they rode to Herne. All the way, they spoke. Business and pleasure, and some tangled dance between both. Sometimes avoiding one or the other, and keeping careful boundaries. Other times, willing confusion. Daring mixed signals to see how one another might react.

They reached the house. Their house. The notion a little suspicious to him, still. The table was decked in finery and lit by candles. Their new maid, Hadel, had laid out a decent spread for the occasion.

There, they ate, and talked. And more was said, and learned in the unsaid, than had been in all the time they had so far known one another.

All in the spirit of business, of course.