In the Shadow of the Goddess (Book 1 of The Fallen Gods Trilogy)

CHAPTER TWELVE

"We are stopping here," Brexten announced, sliding wearily from his horse to sit on the ground at its feet. "Sweet goddess, I had no idea getting back on a horse would hurt so much. I thought I felt terrible yesterday, but today is worse."

"It will be better tomorrow," Perren assured him. The look on Brexten's face expressed anything but belief.

They had reached the end of a long, difficult day as they strove to put distance between themselves and the Hangman's Rest. It was made worse when Brexten decided to set up camp in a secluded area away from the roadside. Apparently there would be no more hostels or sleeping indoors in the immediate future. Jill wondered if that was to protect her from any would-be rapists, or Brexten from retribution for whatever he'd done to her attacker.

Not that she planned on asking. After their earlier awkward episode, she and Brexten hadn't spoken to each other all day. She didn't like thinking about their conversation, hadn't liked how she'd judged him, or that she'd even judged him at all. Once again, she'd gauged him against the standards of her own world. But how could she not when it was all she knew? And considering the violence he'd used against both the Master of the Maze and Strephon in Pydia, was she far off? She'd seen him kill; it was a difficult thing to get past.

Twilight settled, seeming to pool at their feet before rising from the ground to swallow them. The air grew cooler and damper, though the daytime sun had been enough to dry most of the roadways. It meant a minimum of mud covered them. All the same, Jill ached for a hot bath filled with bubbles to her ears. Maybe some aroma-therapy candles too. Her hair felt gritty and limp and she'd begun to smell permanently of horse. If I'd known Pydia was the last time I'd experience hot water, I would have enjoyed it more.

She slid easily from her saddle, her legs stiff but not sore thanks to years of riding. Sometimes it seemed she'd been on horses all her life. First the lessons, then competitive show jumping, then finally just for pleasure.

"I'm jealous watching you do that," Brexten said from the ground. "I've seen many people on a horse and some never achieve the grace you do."

Oh, he's talking to me again. "My grandfather wanted me to learn so I did. According to him, all accomplished young women should have a proper appreciation of horses."

"I see. And do you?"

Jill shrugged. To explain Grandfather's wasted desires and fruitless expectations would leave her exhausted. Instead, she took up her horse's reins and followed Perren. He had already led his own mount and the two pack horses away. Now he came back for Brexten's.

"I'll take care of them," Perren insisted. "You should rest."

"But I'm good with horses. I'm tired of feeling like all I can do is cause trouble."

Perren frowned. "Maybe you could help with the dinner. You could cook something."

"Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean cooking is my responsibility."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just thought it would be easier on you."

The moodiness she'd felt all day finally exploded.

"I want to help you, whether it's with horses or cooking or whatever. Don't assume I'm an idiot or give me one of those 'humor her because she doesn't understand the way things really work' looks."

Perren scowled. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to give you 'a look'."

"Obviously, you'll have to be certain to school your looks more carefully in the future," Brexten said, his voice full of laughter.