A Fugitive's Kiss Read online

  “I don’t need a disguise.”

  Aysha straightened up and met the hard gaze. The woman’s eyes seemed to change from gray to icy blue. “Do as you like then. I’ve warned you. It won’t be on my conscience if you’re killed today.”

  “You don’t understand the danger you’re in with me standing here now.” The woman’s hand rested on the wide cloth belt of her tunic, and Aysha realized another knife was hidden in the fabric. The line of the handle was clearly visible.

  “One scream and the neighbors will be here,” Aysha said, feeling her throat tighten.

  “It’s not me you need to worry about. The man who’s tracking me would kill you without a second thought. He has a right to kill me and you’d be nothing to him. Southerners…”

  “I’m not scared of a bounty hunter.” In fact, she doubted that she could manage a scream if her life depended on it. Under the other woman’s piercing gaze, she could hardly breathe. Aysha started at the sound of a loud crack. The Northerner recoiled from the door and her knife was in her hand in a second.

  “It’s only Helm chopping wood. Stay here.” Aysha brushed past the woman and pushed open the door. The Northerner caught hold of her wrist.

  “If you tell him I’m here…”

  Aysha pulled her hand free and slipped outside. Her pulse thumped in her throat and her legs trembled as if they wouldn’t hold her up. Maybe Ranik had been right. What was she thinking bringing food to a fugitive? She’d lied about not being afraid. Everything about the woman shook her.

  Helm was on his side of the barn fence splitting an oak trunk. Aysha steadied her breath and walked over to his yard. “Morning, Helm. You’re starting early.”

  “Tillie wants the nuts roasted. We have enough chestnuts to sell at the market but still she wants more.”

  Although he was distracted, from his spot at the woodpile Helm had a perfect view of the barn. Of all the neighbors, he was the most likely to spend the next several weeks telling tales of the woman he’d seen slip out of their barn. He’d put them all in danger.

  Helm picked up the split logs. “I’ll bring over some chestnuts for you and Ranik after they’re roasted. In trade for the ale Ranik bought me last night. How’s his head?”

  “He’s still asleep.”

  Helm nodded. “I’d be too, if I could.”

  Aysha waited until he had gone back into his house before slipping back to the barn. She had an uneasy feeling as soon as she pushed open the door, and she paused for a moment, straining to see in the dim light. The barn was quiet. She took one step inside, and in an instant the fugitive had her pushed up against the door, a knife pressed at her throat. Aysha’s scream caught in her chest as the woman’s hand clamped over her mouth.

  “What did you tell him?”

  Aysha struggled under the woman’s hold, but it was no use. She was too strong. “I didn’t tell him anything,” she said when the woman allowed her to speak. Her voice was shrill and louder than she’d planned.

  “Quiet or you’ll get us both killed.” Her gray eyes held Aysha in a cold stare. After a moment, she dropped her grip on Aysha and stepped back from the door. She muttered something under her breath as she sheathed the knife.

  Shaking, Aysha felt the place on her neck where the knife had been. She wasn’t bleeding, but she could hardly swallow. She didn’t bother to keep quiet as she lashed out: “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Lower your voice,” the woman hissed.

  Unfazed, Aysha continued, “I don’t want anyone knowing there’s a fugitive in my barn anymore than you want someone finding you. Were you planning on killing me if I’d said something to him? And what good would that do? I’m trying to help you.”

  “I can’t trust anyone. Even someone who pretends they have nothing to gain. Before long, they’ll be offering gold for any sightings of me.”

  Aysha felt a flush rise up her neck. “Maybe you should try trusting someone. I’m not interested in any bounty.”

  “The man who’s hunting me will soon track me to this barn. You’d be better off telling him that I was here—that you kicked me out—and taking his gold.”

  “I’d never take gold for that.”

  The woman shook her head. “The longer I stay, the more danger we’re both in.”

  “You should have been gone before daybreak then.”

  “I fell asleep,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I hadn’t stopped to rest in days.”

  Despite her attempt to scare Aysha and all of her knives, she was the one who was running terrified. And clearly exhausted. Aysha couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. “No one knows you’re here and if you stay hidden, it’ll be the better for the both of us. I’ll bring more food and you can rest. If you leave at dusk, everyone will be at the festival.”

  “You don’t know what risk you’re taking.”

  “There’s more risk if someone sees you leave.”

  The woman sighed heavily. “I’m exhausted. Maybe one more day’s rest…” She met Aysha’s eyes. “I’m Darin.”

  “Aysha.”

  They didn’t shake hands—they only held each other’s gaze. Aysha felt a rush of nerves that had nothing to do with fear. She quickly reached for the door. “Keep to the back of the barn in case one of the neighbors happens through.”

  Aysha knew Darin was watching her as she slipped outside, but she didn’t try to stop her this time. Still, nothing about the woman put her at ease. Darin. She repeated the name softly, testing it. Her stark beauty made Aysha’s breath catch, but it wasn’t only the sharp jawline or the paleness of her skin offset by the dark curls. No Glenlander carried herself the way she did. She stood as tall as a man and her hands were just as strong, but her movements were quiet and quick. Aysha shuddered as she recalled how fast the knife tip had gone to her throat. But she hadn’t thought, even in the moment, that Darin wanted to hurt her.

  Chapter Two

  As the door closed, Darin let out the breath she’d been holding. She hoped she could trust the woman. Aysha. She couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting her now simply to keep her hiding place a secret.

  Yesterday she’d watched her for hours. She’d worked late in the fields, singing to herself. At first Darin had guessed she was a teenager, but then when she’d gone closer to the barn, she’d noticed Aysha’s curves. It was only a softness about her face, round cheeks and plump lips that made her seem young. And of course she was short, like most Southerners. The afternoon sun had darkened her tan skin to a warm brown and her dark eyes were framed by long lashes. Darin had found it hard to look away from her. She’d never seen anyone quite as beautiful.

  But a lump of worry settled in her stomach now as she thought of how she’d trusted her—a Southerner who had every reason to sell her out. From one look at the woman’s threadbare coat, it was clear she scarcely had two silver bits to rub together. Stories of Southerners trading a fugitive for a single gold piece abounded. The fools didn’t know they could bargain a life for a hundred gold coins.

  She leaned against the stall rails and felt the horse’s muzzle searching her hair. His touch steadied her. The horse went for her fingers as she stretched out her hand. He licked her palm, tasting the salt. She hadn’t washed in days.

  The gelding would be a perfect horse to steal—calm and trusting but tall enough to carry her. On horseback, she’d outrun Alekander and might make it to the Rinder Sea in a day or two. From there she’d need passage on a boat. Alekander might have spies already waiting for her at the ports, but if she made it to the Halo Isles… She glanced at the horse again. Stealing was becoming easier. It was also a necessity. She no longer felt a pang of guilt at taking what she needed—or hadn’t until now.

  The horse snorted and turned to stomp out to his outer paddock as if he sensed her thoughts. But had Alekander followed her even as far as the first Southern village? Had he crossed the river or turned back at the wall?

  He’d have an advantage if she followed the river—s
ound traveled well over the water. Rivers presented a real disadvantage to her, however. Water didn’t disguise scents; it amplified each one in a dizzying rush. She’d lost Alekander’s scent after crossing the river but his face haunted her dreams every night. The last image of him, as she’d balanced at the top edge of the Barrier, her hands scraped and bleeding from the rough stone, terrorized her.

  The past night’s sleep had been the first without dreams of him. When Aysha had first appeared, Darin thought she was an illusion. So deep her sleep had been, she hadn’t caught her scent until it was too late. At the sound of footsteps on the floor planks, she’d huddled under her cloak, planning an attack. She’d only thought of taking the horse, but she’d do whatever was needed to escape if the woman tried to stop her. And then she’d decoded the stranger’s scent in a dizzying rush—no malice, no fear, only wood smoke and warm honey. It’d been a long time since she’d been immobilized by anyone. And this time it was a woman.

  The barn door swung open suddenly and Aysha reappeared. She pulled a hunk of bread out from a pocket of her coat, tossed it to Darin and then pointed to the far corner. Darin quickly hid behind the horse tack. Her stomach churned as she clutched the bread, thick with the scent of yeast. A man followed Aysha into the barn. He was old and walked with a limp. If she had to, he’d be easy to take down.

  “You won’t mind if we borrow Cobalt for the day then?”

  “Ranik won’t be working the fields anyway,” Aysha said. “He mentioned selling some of the wood bowls he carved and a few hens, but he can take a cart for that. If he ever wakes up.”

  “Want me to sell the hens for you?”

  “I’d rather keep them, Helm. It was Ranik who wanted the money.”

  “Like your mother.” He placed a hand on Aysha’s shoulder. “But it’s Autumn Festival and the time for looking forward, not back. Your mother would tell me to get back to my work…”

  “I’ll get his harness for you,” Aysha said. She approached the saddles and met Darin’s eyes. Darin felt her skin burn as if the barn had filled with a light cast directly on her. She shrank back in the shadows and held her breath. Once she had the tack she wanted, Aysha turned back to the neighbor. “Will you and Tillie be at the dance tonight?”

  “We’ll stick to the pub. The ale’s better.” He smiled. “And Tillie would never let me stop dancing if she got me out there.”

  Darin didn’t relax until they’d both gone. The bread was still warm and the gnawing in her belly finally subsided as she ate. When it was clear that no one was returning to the barn, she stacked the horse blankets in the corner and curled up behind them.

  It was late afternoon when she awoke, stiff from the small space she’d hid herself in. She stretched her legs and realized with a start that Aysha was in the barn. She hadn’t heard her enter and was unnerved with the thought that Alekander might have entered just as silently. She called for Aysha softly, not bothering to stand and look for her.

  “You’ve been fighting someone, in your sleep.” Aysha hopped off a bale of hay opposite Darin’s hiding spot. “You had your fists balled up and twice you reached for your knife. Did you win?”

  Darin wouldn’t let on how the question sent a shiver down her spine. In her dreams, she never won the fight against Alekander. “I woke before it was over.”

  “I hope I didn’t disturb you. I was trying to keep the horses quiet, but they wanted their grain.”

  Darin shook her head. “I’ve slept better in this barn than I have in weeks. Must be a sleeping spell you placed on me.”

  Aysha laughed. “If I knew any spells, I wouldn’t waste one on sleep. Is it true that Northerners cast spells? I’ve heard that some can cast a spell to bring rain or force the wind to turn. But we hear a lot of stories about Northerners. No one knows what’s true and what’s only meant to scare children. Southerners don’t cross the border and return to tell of it.”

  “Why would a Southerner cross? You have no reason to leave.”

  “The North is the land of plenty,” Aysha countered.

  “Plenty…” She shook her head.

  “And magic spells.”

  “There are some who claim to be spell casters. But not many.” She wondered what Aysha knew of sensers. It was rumored that no one in the South possessed a strong sense. But many feared any hint of magic. She continued, “Magic is often little more than a trick of a stronger sense.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Darin thought for a moment. She didn’t need to use her own sense as the example. “I have a friend who senses the weather. He feels a storm coming weeks in advance. And if he needs money, he might pretend he was bringing the rain with a spell. People pay him for his magic. Really, it isn’t magic at all. He only has a sense of things to come. Mostly of the weather, but there’s other things…The trick comes when he convinces you that a rainstorm is what you want.”

  “Can you sense the weather as well?”

  “No.” Darin knew she should leave her explanation at that, and yet something about Aysha’s simple curiosity or the fact that it had been weeks since she’d talked to anyone at all made her continue. “There are some with a strong sense of taste—they often make ale and potions. Others have a strong sense of sight, sound, or smell. Some can track a rabbit in the dark, hear water flowing in the desert…But it isn’t magic.”

  “I’m as blind as a gopher in the dark. I’d never find a rabbit.”

  “It isn’t as hard as you’d think if you have a stronger sense…” By habit, she avoided talking about her sense. But Aysha seemed innocent in her interest. “The world is full of scents. I could follow you blindfolded simply by remembering your scent and searching for it.”

  “I’d like to see that trick.”

  “It isn’t a trick—only a stronger sense. I’ve always caught the scent of things others can’t smell. A rabbit hiding underground or a wasp’s nest high in the trees…My grandmother taught me the trick of separating the scents. Without her, I would have been lost.” Darin paused. “If you don’t learn to focus your sense as a child, the sense weakens until it’s nearly lost. Sometimes I think my mother was right to never learn to focus hers. But my sense was too strong. I was overwhelmed by it. There was no way to ignore it.

  “I can smell when someone’s afraid. Or if they’re caught in a lie. Some people have too many scents and it’s work to sort them out. Ignoring it would be like ignoring someone’s smile or someone’s tears. A person’s scent is as strong to me as the emotion you see on their face. Sometimes stronger.”

  Aysha came closer and stopped in front of Darin. “I could see recognizing someone’s scent and telling them apart from others, but could you really tell what someone’s thinking with your eyes closed—by their smell alone?”

  Darin nodded.

  “Then what do you smell now?”

  Aysha’s eyes were locked on hers. Darin knew she might have told her too much. There was power in hiding her sense and danger in exposing the truth. But still there was no threat in her. She closed her eyes and inhaled. “Desire.” It wasn’t a surprise, she’d caught the scent the first time Aysha had looked at her. But she did wonder at it. When she opened her eyes, Aysha’s face was flushed.

  “Who doesn’t desire something?” Aysha said.

  “Mostly I don’t think about why someone has a certain scent. I just sense it.”

  “Well, what else? You said people often had more than one scent.” She walked over to a bin between the horse stalls and scooped up a handful of grain, seeming suddenly nervous. Both horses perked their ears. Darin knew she’d made her uncomfortable.

  “There’s fear too.” Darin studied her. Aysha kept her gaze on the horse, cleaning the grain from her palms. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No.”

  “See, now I can smell that you’re lying.”

  “From all the way over there?” Aysha raised her eyebrows.

  Southerners were simple. They didn’t know to hide their emo
tions. “I’ve tracked someone for miles by their sweat alone. You might as well be standing next to me if we’re in the same room.”

  Aysha rinsed her hands off in the water trough and then wiped them dry on one of the saddle blankets. She’d come to stand next to Darin again. “I’m not certain I like that you can smell what I’m thinking.”

  “I smell other things too.” Darin reached for Aysha’s hand. She held it up to her nose. “Oat hay, horse sweat, grain, chicken feathers, apples, cheese…” Aysha tugged her hand back before she’d finished. “But desire is the strongest.”

  “I just washed my hand.”

  “The scent lingers. Use soap.” She smiled when Aysha made a sour face.

  “What does desire smell like?”

  “It isn’t one scent alone—it’s a mix of different smells. That’s how it always is with emotions.” She thought for a moment. “Have you smelled the ocean?”

  “I’ve never gone farther east than Glen Falls. Is your home near the ocean?”

  The question caught Darin off guard. She shook her head. It wasn’t a lie. She had no place to call home.

  “Most fugitives follow the river to the Rinder Sea, or so I hear. And then on to the Halo Isles. No one comes to Glen Ore…Why’d you come here?”

  “I thought the man who was tracking me would guess I’d do what everyone always does. So I crossed the river instead of following it.” And she’d kept south at every turn. Her stomach tightened as she realized she’d gone in a straight line. Any tracker could easily trace her path. She glanced at the barn door and then at the stalls, drawing in a deep breath. No new scents tainted the air. She’d taken a risk staying in the barn, but she’d thought she’d been careful.

  In the distance, drums began to beat. The sound brought Aysha to her feet. “I have to meet someone. I brought you more food.” She motioned to the hay bale where a loaf of bread, roasted nuts and a square of hard white cheese had been left on a red cloth. She stared at Darin for a long moment, as if unsure of her next move. “Will you leave tonight?”