Just then, he heard soft footsteps behind him, and a young woman came into his field of vision. She was carrying a small wooden tray. Her arrival jarred Kellen further out of his drifting mood of acceptance, for she looked nothing like any female he had ever seen before in his life, dressed as she was in garments that no City-dweller, even the most desperate day laborer, would have contemplated wearing for even a moment. She was… she was un-Citified. More proof, assuming Kellen had needed it, that he was actually outside the City.
The stranger was wearing a sleeveless calf-length dress that looked as if it were made of some kind of soft golden leather, and her long dark hair was parted in the middle and pulled back into two braids wrapped and. tied with leather as well, worn down as no adult woman of the City would ever consider wearing hers. She had a curious face, which reminded him of a cat; perhaps because it was shaped like an inverted triangle, perhaps because her expression was very certain, and very self-composed. He'd never seen a female who had such an air of self- confidence about her— but then as a member of the Mageborn aristocracy, Kellen hadn't met very many females at all. Her soft violet eyes, which seemed large for her face, were fringed by the longest darkest lashes Kellen had ever seen—and suddenly he was positive, not only that Shalkan was real, but that the vow of chastity and celibacy that he had so recklessly sworn to gain the unicorn's aid was going to be more difficult to keep than he'd ever actually imagined.
His body's response surprised him—surely he was far too weak and sick to be thinking of something like that at a time like this?
All this went through his mind in the moment it took for her to turn her gaze on him and smile.
'Oh, good, you're awake. I was starting to worry; it's been more than a sennight,' she said. Her voice was low and friendly, and strangely familiar—where could he have heard it before?—and her smile warmed her eyes. 'Do you think you can sit up?'
Without waiting for an answer, she set the wooden tray on a table beside the bed and moved toward Kellen. Slipping one arm behind his shoulders, she pulled him into an upright position with easy strength. As the bedcovers—a thin wool blanket covered by several supple, beautifully tanned animal skins with the hair still on— slipped away, Kellen realized he wasn't wearing a single thing beneath them.
Reflexively, he grabbed for the blanket, pulling it up around his waist, and gazed at his hands and arms in puzzlement.
There were no wounds. No bites, no bruises, not even any of the scratches he'd gotten riding Shalkan through all those thornbushes on their flight from the City before the fight with the stone Hounds. He didn't even see the bruises from the way the stone golems had handled him, dragging him out of the Council chamber.
For a moment reality slid dizzyingly around Kellen. Without the proof of his injuries to anchor him, he wasn't sure what to believe. What was real, and what was just a fever dream?
But Shalkan was reed. He was sure of it. And the City had sent an Outlaw Hunt to kill him and anyone who dared to help him escape the City lands—the Hounds. He remembered almost everything now. But where were the bites, the wounds—the proof of his flight? He didn't even have scars.
'Eat now, then we'll talk,' the woman said firmly, seeing his confusion. 'You've been asleep for a long time.'
But not long enough to heal without scars, Kellen thought with a faint pang of fear.
The strange woman sat down on the edge of the bed and helped him feed himself. He was weaker than he'd expected to be, and clumsy; she had to guide his fingers around the wooden mug and help him hold it to his lips, and he could not manage the bowl and spoon at all for very long. The strength just went out of his arm and hand, and his hand shook so much he had to give up on the notion of doing without help. She just waited while he came to that conclusion by himself, then took up the spoon and continued where he had left off.
Defeated, he lay back and let her feed him, but when he had finished the meat broth and the mug of herb tea with honey, he felt much stronger. Strong enough to worry about where Shalkan was, and about what came next, at any rate. He was free of the City, and now he had to figure out what to do next. In fact, he had his entire life to figure out now, and the prospect was daunting.
Free. In all his seventeen years of life, Kellen had never imagined the word could have such a bitter taste. For the rest of his life he was going to have to live with the consequences of a decision made in the flush of youthful bravado and adolescent anger. He was an Outlaw—barring a miracle, he would never see Armethalieh or his father again. And now that he was in this position, he realized that he missed the City more than he'd ever imagined he could.
Or—did he really miss the City, or only the comforts and certainty it represented? It was not going to be an easy thing to make his way alone outside the City walls.
For one thing, how was he going to live out here? Unless something extraordinary happened, and this young woman decided to allow him to live with her, he was completely without resources now. He didn't even have clothing at this point! No food, no clothing, no place to live, and no idea how he was to get any of those things. He knew nothing about farming, hunting—
Maybe Shalkan could help him. If Shalkan was all right—if the unicorn wasn't in worse shape than he had been… Kellen had a vague recollection of seeing Shalkan's white fur saturated with blood; it couldn't have been the Hounds', and he couldn't remember if it was his…
