Daughter of Ice and Fire

Twenty-Two

"Bastard," Lihleih hissed as she forced the horse off the road. "Damn royals are all the same."

She had been plodding along, taking her time as she moved east. At some point, she was going to reach the western shore of the Great Inland Sea and she needed to figure out how to get across. She could always skirt it by hugging the western and then the northern coast, but that would add days to her journey. It would also mean traveling through the King's exclusive hunting grounds. While she probably wouldn't run into him, that wasn't a guarantee. She'd rather not take any chances. Taking a ship across would not only save time, but it would also land her in the poorer section of Westhyl. Someplace she could hide easily until she was ready to execute her revenge.

Lost in thought, she had been working on a way to hire passage. She had no coin and couldn't sell the horses as they were marked. She also had Wolfshade and she was sure that even if she could find a ship willing to take the animal on, it was going to cost quite a bit. Consumed with the problem, she hadn't heard the thundering hooves nor noticed the people scattering until the rider was almost upon her. It wasn't until he cursed at her that she snapped out of her thoughts. Giving him an icy glare, she bit her tongue. Arguing with a Royal courier would get her back where she had started. If she was lucky.

The horses were placid and easy to handle but were slow to respond and even slower to alter course. She had not had to get directions as the horses had traveled back and forth so many times, they knew the way. When the rider had come upon them demanding they move, she had a hard time convincing her horse to veer off and an even harder time getting the second one to follow. More curses rained down as the rider danced behind her and she shot him a nasty look, tugging on the reins harder. When there was finally enough room for him to get by, he flew past without even a thank you, kicking up clods of dirt that struck her in the face. Wiping them off, she spat, letting loose with a string of obscenities. Fortunately, the horses were eager to resume their journey and moved back on the road more easily than they had moved off. Returning to the problem of transportation to Westhyl, she continued her slow progress.

As the shadows lengthened, she gradually came back to her immediate surroundings. Time to find a place to camp. She had avoided the towns and villages, unsure if word of her escape had made it back to the King. For all she knew, the rider that had passed her earlier had been a messenger from Hallowvale and she was again grateful she had left the wagon behind. And that she once again had altered her appearance.

After leaving the scene of her latest altercation, as she called them, she had considered what to do about her looks. The dye in her hair would take weeks to fade unless she found a way to wash it out herself. But returning to her natural color was dangerous. She decided to leave the hair the way it was, letting it grow out naturally and continuing to dye it as needed, if at all possible. But it wasn't an immediate concern, so she turned her thoughts to deciding which sex she should be. The King had seen her as both a boy and a girl, but her hair color had been different, she had been heavier, and her curves much more noticeable. She was much thinner now and her muscles were hard and prominent, especially on her arms. It was always possible someone from the prison could describe her but she had taken pains not to meet anyone's eye in the kitchens and had purposely tried to make herself seem small and weak. Only two people could positively identify her as the girl who fled. One was dead and the other had promised never to give her up.

Remaining a girl, however, created problems. Men might remember her better, especially if she was forced to defend herself. Even if she kept the Rage buried, a girl who could fight and had muscles like a man would be remembered as well as be talked about.

Becoming a boy would probably be better, but she would need a way to bind herself without any assistance. That meant finding someone to make what she needed and paying them enough to hopefully buy their silence. Bringing her back to the problem of coin again. She supposed she could steal something but was extremely reluctant to do so. She was no thief, as she had so vehemently told the King. She didn't consider taking the draft horses as stealing since she never had any intention of killing the driver and making off with them. She also convinced herself that having the two horses was perfect compensation for the loss of her knives, which she was sure the King had stolen, along with the loss of the rest of the prize. Despite the fact she had hidden it well, there was no practical way for her to retrieve it. Taking his horses seemed a fair trade, she convinced herself with a shrug.