I addressed the redheaded man, “I trust my life to you now, comrade. Pray you do not fail me.”He didn’t respond, so I turned my attention to the opposing party, baring my teeth at their self-satisfied, smirking faces. All but four of the riders were dressed as Guardsmen – though their clothing was too well-made for them to be anything but noble-born officers.The remaining four, waiting ahead of everyone else, were already closing on us. Two, riding abreast, led. Another pair, clearly inferiors, followed. The blue-robed woman was one of the leaders, and as her form crept closer I discovered her face was hidden behind a heavy, black veil. The other, elegantly dressed, was wearing the red and blue of the guard. By the half crown resting on his brow, I assumed he was the Prince. I recognized one of the two followers, the fat Farim.I’d been trying to remember an ancient execution rite, practiced in the mountains north of Domaine, since last night. It was an excruciating way of murdering a. Perhaps because of that comment, perhaps because of the wine, she moved one hand to cover one of his. He held it, and it stayed there for a while.When he drove her home, she invited him in. This was, she said, the first time she could show the place to anyone outside her family.Gail sat him down on a couch and disappeared for a few minutes, re-emerging in jeans and a t-shirt. Vince noted with great approval (more than he said) how well the jeans fit her and how the t-shirt gave the perfect loose sensuousness to complement her somewhat small breasts.She did, as promised, actually show him around. Her bathroom was small, as they often are in apartments these days; her kitchen also was, though the space was well used. Her living room was a little on the spare side, and one framed print almost reminded Vince of something to say, but not quite. When she gestured at her bedroom timidly, he saw a wide double bed with quite frilly covers on it, and had a sudden picture of what it would be.
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