Walking away from that farmstead was one of the hardest things I'd ever done.

I don't mean that physically, of course. But leaving behind that place - well, it had been a haven for me. For the past two weeks, even if I hadn't felt like I belonged, I felt safe. Cared for. It wasn't that I hadn't been safe before; granted, the city streets aren't exactly secure - and I had belonged there - but no one outside my small group had really cared about me.

Well, I guess that's not true. The prince cared about me. As a possession.
Kiyra and her family cared about me. They were sorry to see us leave - not just Aiven, but me as well. I don't mean to sound sentimental, but it mattered to me that they cared.

After hugging Kiyra one last time, tousling the baby's hair, and smiling at the men, I joined Aiven where he stood with his pack. I shouldered my own, and we began to walk. This wasn't a "and she walked off, and didn't look back." I looked back repeatedly, waving and smiling. But finally they were no more then dots on the horizon, and faded into the land.

I turned to Aiven at the point I could see his family any more, an opened my mouth to ask one of my millions of questions. But as I looked at him, I found I couldn't. He looked so serious and sad, I just couldn't interrupt him.

Well, that lasted about five seconds. "I noticed Chayette did not bid you goodbye," I mentioned as casually as I could, eyes on the road.

"She did not," he said coolly.

I waited a minute, but he volunteered nothing more. "Well?" I asked. "Why not?"

He glanced at me. "Why do you care?"

"Well, *maybe* it would be nice to talk about something to pass the time," I said sarcastically.

"We needn't talk about Chayette," he said.

"Well then, let's talk about how you pretended we were betrothed. Or is that another topic you wish to avoid?" I glared at him, annoyed at his calmness.

"I already explained, Damslae." It still felt odd, to be called by that name. "I did it to protect you."

"To protect me," I muttered. "I didn't need any protection."

One side of his mouth turned up. "Oh? You had turned to jelly. You looked like you were going to cry."

"I did not!" I shot at him. Didn't he get angry?

"You are yet uncomfortable in a man's presence. You are not ready to be that close to one; you are still afraid."

"I'm not afraid of *you*. So what does that mean?" As soon as I said it, I was instantly ashamed. I'd been childish, trying so hard to get a rise out of him. I lifted my hand to my mouth and stopped in my tracks, feeling my face burn. But that made me just as angry as I'd been - and still was - ashamed. I'd insulted men worse and more directly then that; why did I care what I'd said to Aiven? But I did.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate emotion?

At the same time that I stopped moving, Aiven did as well. He turned to me, face dark for a first, and raised his hand as if to slap me. Indeed, I thought he would. I winced, turning my head away slightly, eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated the blow. I felt my long red braid fall back over my shoulder, leaving my face and next bare. My heart beat faster, and a lump formed in the back of my throat. And I had been comfortable with Aiven.

A long moment passed, and then another, before I had the courage to crack open an eye, staring warily at the youth. But his hand was no longer raised, and his eyes were so full of empathy that it caused my to start in surprise. He turned away briskly, and began walking again, and I followed. He obviously wanted to say something, but did not know what - or how. I couldn't tell if he wished to apologize or not, or even felt that he should. Perhaps, I thought to myself, that I should apologize first. After all, I had started it.

I imagine it is to no one's surprise that I did not.

We walked on - and on - and on. And just for fun, we walked some more.

"So," I said tentatively, determined to start anew. After all, this was me, Laeliena, who could charm any man in the capital with a smile. Who the prince himself wanted, not as a mistress, but to marry. I, who was an accomplished thief, respected, even feared to a small degree. Surely I could handle one simple farm boy. "You are traveling to Bast."

"Aye," he said.

"Um . . . are you . . . uh . . . meeting anyone there?"

"Anyone . . .?"

He certainly wasn't making this easy. "Are you to be apprenticed there? Or are you meeting with a friend? Or . . . your betrothed?"

"I am not betrothed."

I was genuinely startled. "But you told Chayette you could not marry her! I assumed there was a reason - other then me, of course."

He smiled. Or smirked - I wasn't quite sure. "Of course. Has it ever occurred to you Damslae, that I don't *like* Chayette?"

No. "Yes, but it seemed that you had promised each other, under the star, and she obviously was - is - in love with you . . . " Even to myself I could tell I sounded like an idiot, and I was furious with myself. I took a deep breath, then stated, as calm as I could, "So you are not meeting a lover in Bast."

"A lover is not the same as one's betrothed." At my sharp look, he grinned. "But I am not meeting either."

"Are you to be apprenticed?"

"No."

"Then - are you meeting a friend there?"

"Not exactly a friend."

"An acquaintance."

"Yes."

This was not getting me anywhere. I did not particularly care why Aiven was going to Bast, but I wanted a conversation. Watching the grass as we strolled along in the hilly landscape was not my favorite pastime.

"What is that?" Aiven said abruptly.

"What?" I asked, then realized he was looking at my necklace - a new one, which hung down only to my collarbone. I reached up to touch it, then let my hand drop. On a black cord, a pendant hung - a shiny gold colored ball, held in place by four copper dolphins that were attached by the tails at the bottom of the ball and attached by their noses to the cord. It was not extraordinary, nor expensive looking, but I thought it very pretty.

"This? Oh, I got it at the fair." As he continued to stare at it, I added helpfully, "Yesterday. On the Day of Roses."

Aiven stopped to take it in his hand. He could not pull it that close to himself, as the cord was so short, so he was forced to come closer to me. I could've taken the necklace off. I didn't.

"It looks like Madam Dorsi's necklace, given to her by her husband. I have never seen another like it." He wore a puzzled expression on his face.

I shrugged. "Probably was hers," I said, unconcerned. It did not occur to me to be. "I do not know the name of the woman from whom I acquired it." I began to walk again, forcing Aiven to also.

"You *stole* it?" Aiven said, sounding shocked, his expression now disapproving.

"But of course I said," I said, smiling innocently at him. "Why would I buy something when I could just take it?"

"Aiven, I'm a thief. What did you expect me to do?"

"But it's wrong, Damslae. Many people can't afford to have their things taken from them."

"I try not to steal from those people."

"And if you do?"

"Well sucks to be them, now, doesn't it?" I said with an amused laugh. "Really Aiven. Stealing isn't that bad. I just do it to protect myself."

"Doesn't seemed to have helped, does it?" he said, glaring at me.

"Aiven!" It was my turn to my shocked, and hurt.

We both glared at each other, not seeming to realize we had stopped again. Aiven was the first to break my gaze - I like to think my golden eyes unnerved him - and we both continued. "At this rate we'll never get anywhere," he said tightly.

Each of us was angry with each other, and if the other had spoken we would not have listened. We eventually stopped for dinner and to camp, eating from our packs. I ate little, in part because I was portioning the food, but mostly because what Aiven had said had really hurt me. And he was right. I hadn't been able to protect myself when it really counted.

We slept on the grass with only our cloaks covering us and our bundles passing as pillows. I was grateful for the warm summer night; though I slept all seasons without any extra warmth other then the season, I was usually shielded by a wall in a narrow ally way, so the wind would pass right over me. Also, I was usually with a group of three others - all whom I trusted with my life.

There was Johen, who was quite the ladies man besides being a thief. His affairs were always short and carefree. Tari was my best friend, a part elven girl with nothing but their startling green eyes to show what blood ran through her. I had no knowledge what had happened to her. Dein was her brother, younger by a year, but tough as steel. Their parents had been farmers that had died in a bandit raid.

Now the only one here was Aiven, sleeping oh so properly about six feet away. I made a face at his back. Immature, true, but so what? He would never know.

When the sun rose, so did I, but Aiven had before. He sat holding a piece of wood, whittling away at it with a small knife, half of a delicate horse appearing from it. Who knew? I stretched slowly and stood also, pretending not to give him a second glance as I stood. I saw him grimace; whether because of his work of because of me I could not know.

"Good morning," I said, prepared to be gracious after getting such a sound night of sleep. I pulled out a tart for breakfast and looked towards Aiven. "Are you ready to go?"

He nodded, and without another word was up and walking towards and along the road, leaving me to scramble after him.

"We did not have a sentry," I commented. I did not truly believe we had needed one, as there seemed to be no one else traveling, but surely there would be as we traveled into the center of the kingdom. As it was, we were at the edge of Shayl, Aiven's homeland, traveling towards the center of it, and through there to the realm of Bast. In the opposite direction of Yvonhe.

"No," Aiven agreed. Well, he certainly couldn't disagree. What could he say? 'Yes, actually, we *did* have a sentry even though both of us were sound asleep,'? "We will not need one until this road joins one of the larger ones closer to the center of Shayl. We will join another travelling party then, so we will lose less sleep.

Oh. But if we joined another party, would we separate? Would he still hold himself responsible for me? I knew he wouldn't want to - after all, he obviously disliked me besides protecting me. Or, pointing out that I couldn't protect myself.

We spent the day silently, talking to each other only when we had to - which was basically never. I was tempted to take my necklace off; but I immediately grew angry with myself for changing anything about myself for a boy. Especially one that didn't even like me.

Even if it would be a change for the - morally - better.

We ate breakfast while walking, we ate lunch while walking, the sun disappeared as we were walking. I half expected to sleep while we were walking. As we set up "camp" - that is, curled down beside the road in our cloaks - I felt like I was pudding. I felt I could not walk another mile. However, being myself, I did not mention this at all to Aiven, instead just going to sleep.

When I woke I lay in bed several minutes, faking the appearance of sleep. I cautiously opened my eyes, and as I expected, Aiven sat nearby, whittling away on his horse. It was almost done by now - a tiny, perfect thing, mane spilling over on each side as it leaned down, as if to drink from a stream. Three of its hooves were flat on the ground, it's tail swishing in the air as if to ward off flies. The last leg was not done yet; this is what Aiven concentrated on.

After a few more minutes of peace, I rolled over and got up. Aiven was not surprised; for all I knew he knew I was awake. I just ate my tart and we left. Silently.

I was sick of being silent, but did not want to be the one to break it. I will not say anything like "the air was so thick I could cut it with a knife," or "the air was fraught with tension." But that was the truth.

A week passed in this manner before our tiny road wound it's way out of the hills and through a small forest, them deposited us into the main stream - a road much wider then our own, and there were people. Not many, as it was only a tiny portion of the road, but if you looked one way down it, and then the other, you could tell you would never be alone.

"Well," I said briskly, stepping off the path. "I, for one, will be glad not to be surrounded by silence anymore." I shot a pointed look towards my companion, which he ignored.

"We have to find a party to travel with," he said, scanning the road. Only then did I realize that no one was traveling in groups smaller then six. In fact, one group coming closer to us, still a while behind us, looked to be about twenty people.

"Then find one," I told him.

" 'We' indicates more then one person. So we'll both go talk. Unless," he said with raised eyebrows, " you're an anthropophobic?"

I looked at him. For a farm boy, he sure knew big words. "No," I said, in tones of derision, flipping my braid back over my shoulder. An anthro what?

"Good," he said, grabbing my hand as I attempted to walk forward. "We'll wait here til a likely looking family comes along." He faced me as he said that, down the road in the direction we were headed down. Unlike me, he could not tell that the caravan of around twenty had reached us. The three in the lead were on horseback - a man, woman, and a youth the age of Aiven and I.

"God be praised," said the lord - for a lord he must be, with such horses and clothes, and revenue. Aiven spun around, as if he recognized the voice. He glanced quickly at me, not releasing my hand. He seemed ill at ease, as the lord, lady, and youth stared at him in a mixture of recognition and awe.

" 'Tis the seer!" said the lord, staring at Aiven.