She snorts and tosses her head.
“Well, this princess is going to take a bath. Jacko? I know you hate water, so please keep an eye on me from the shore.”
The jackalope stands tall, whiskers twitching. Malric grunts and stretches out. I strip from my tunic, leaving on my autumn-wear undershirt. Under my leggings I have another pair that go only to my knees, soft cotton for insulation. As chilly as the water is, I’d be tempted to strip out of everything for a good wash, but it’s best not to give anyone the shock of stumbling on a stark-naked swimming princess.
I hop in and yelp as the cold water envelopes me. It’s refreshing, though. These long days of walking means dirt and sweat, and the water feels glorious.
As I paddle about, Doscach shakes his head over me, splattering me with water. Sunniva’s mane is lovely—silken dark-red strands—but Doscach’s is a wondrous thing, long and dotted in barnacles that click when he tosses it. It’s sticky, too, like some seaweed.
We swim and goof off, and even Malric wades in, though he acts as if we’re children playing in a pond—so terribly annoying, when he only wants to get his feet wet. Jacko patrols on the bank. Sunniva works herself into a pretty snit, alternating between testing the water and trotting off, as if she doesn’t care that we’re having fun without her.
I dive under and run my hands through my curls. When something tugs my hair, I surface to glower at Doscach, but he’s twenty feet away. And behind me is Malric, intently eyeing a fish.
“Someone tugged my hair,” I say, looking at Malric.
If wargs had eyebrows, he’d be lifting his, giving me a look that says he’d never do anything so silly. I flip my wet curls over my shoulder and turn around, and someone grabs them, giving a sharp pull that sends me splashing down on my back. I surface again to see Malric watching his fish. With a sniff, I turn around, facing the other direction as I float on my back and—
A fish flops onto my stomach.
I jump up with a yelp and the fish’s tail gets caught down the neckline of my undershirt. As I pull it out, Malric looks over as if to say, “Huh, how’d that get there?” When he reaches for it, I smack it against his snout. Then I toss it onto the bank, and both Jacko and Doscach run to grab it before Malric does.
“Did you just smack your warg with a fish?” a voice says.
I look to see Dain walking over, with the dropbear trundling along beside him.
“He started it,” I say, glaring at Malric, who’s growling at Jacko, the victor in the fish race. I raise my voice. “That’s what you get for throwing your fish on me. It’s Jacko’s dinner now.”
Dain snorts a laugh as Jacko drags the fish, nearly as big as him, away to begin his feast. I start rising out of the water, and Dain’s eyes widen and he quickly turns away.
“I’m dressed,” I say.
“Not very well.”
I look down. “I wear less when we go swimming.”
“That’s different. A swim outfit is meant to be seen. Those aren’t.”
I sigh and let myself sink into the water, to float on my back. “Is this better? My hair streaming out, a maiden floating downstream, past the gallant hunter—isn’t that a ballad?”
“Yes, and she was dead.”
I frown. “I thought it was a romantic ballad.”
“It is. She drowned on the back of one of those.” He points at Doscach, fishing upstream. “The villagers saw the ceffyl-dwr take her into the water, and they called for the monster hunter, who gallantly rode to her rescue, only to see the fair maiden floating downstream.”
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s romantic?”
“Apparently.”
“Weird.” I flutter on my back. “Well, I’ll be a living maiden, floating down the river.” I tug my hair to fan around me. “Do I need flowers in my hair?”
A frog lands on my hair. Dain snickers as I scramble up to dislodge it.
“So much for my moment of floating beauty,” I grumble.
“If you want someone to tell you you’re pretty, ask Trysten. He’d probably make up a ballad, too.”
I wrinkle my nose.
“Haven’t you noticed?” Dain says. “He stares at you the way Doscach stares at Sunniva.” He waves upriver, where the ceffyl-dwr tosses a fish at Sunniva’s hooves, only to have her dance away.
“Does he?” I say.
“Yes.”
“Weird.”
I paddle on my back again. Sunniva comes down to lower her head and sniff at me, but when I lift a wet hand to pet her, she trots away.
“You know, you could use a bath,” I call to her. “You’ve got a spot of dirt right there. And over there. But if you don’t want to look nice…”
She snorts and keeps prancing along the bank.
I glance at the dropbear, snuffling along the water’s edge. On the far side, Jacko lifts the fish’s tail and chirrups, as if inviting her to join the feast. She paces along the edge and then peers up at us.
“There isn’t a tree bridge,” I say. “But I can help you across, if you trust me.”
I put out my hands. She considers and glances at Dain, who waves for her to go on. She jumps into my arms, and I carry her over to Jacko. Then I return to Dain.
“It was nice of Trysten to bring her,” I say.
He nods.
“I wouldn’t have left her there,” I say. “I didn’t know how to go back for her right away without endangering anyone, but I wouldn’t have let them sell her.”
He nods again. “Thank you.”
“You’re uncomfortable having Trysten along,” I say. “Is it because you don’t trust him? Or because you just don’t like new people? You seemed fine with Cedany, but she’s an archer, and she helped save you from the harpies. Also, she’s a grown-up, so she doesn’t hang out with us as much.”
“I don’t not trust Trysten. If that makes sense.”
“You don’t think he’s going to hurt us
