"So he can cry for help? No, child, he must be killed. I'll do it while you create the distraction. When the guard brought you in, he clearly found your looks pleasing. I caught him stroking your hair as he laid you on the mat. That's how you'll distract him. Use your wiles."
"Wiles?"
Ashyn was sure she looked almost as shocked as she had when Belaset suggested she slit the man's throat. I truly am a child. I can't even save myself.
Ashyn took a deep breath. "I can distract him."
Forty-five
As they prepared, Ashyn got a better sense of the situation from Belaset. They were in a wagon from one of the trains they'd passed earlier that day. Apparently, the slave trader had spotted the girls and realized they were alike--in his profession, he would have a much keener eye than the average traveler.
He'd cut Belaset's wagon from the train and returned with a few mercenaries, planning to take the girls at night. That's why Ronan seemed to be asleep at his post--he'd been unconscious from a dart. They'd likely planned to use darts on the others as they slept, but then Ashyn and Tova woke. They'd brought them back and returned for Moria and Daigo.
Now Belaset had Ashyn remove her cloak, pull her hair over her shoulders, and undo the top button on her tunic. Ashyn would have been fine with all that, but then Belaset insisted on a second button and tugged her tunic down until Ashyn was certain if she leaned over, her breasts would be on full display. That was, she supposed, the idea, but her cheeks still blazed at the thought.
"How do you do that?" Belaset said.
"Do what?"
"Redden your cheeks."
Belaset reached over and pinched them hard with her scaly fingers. Ashyn tried not to shrink at her touch.
"There," Belaset said. "You look very sweet and shy. Men like that. I worked at a brothel doing chores for the women, and men were always asking for virgins."
"Brothel?" Ashyn said. "Is that like a courtesan house?"
Belaset laughed. "Not exactly, child. Come now. We must move quickly, before they take your sister."
Ashyn knocked on the wagon door. "Hello? Is someone out there?"
>
It took a moment for the guard to answer.
"Yes?" he said.
"I'm unwell," she said.
"It's the dart," he said. "It will wear off soon."
"I--I'm going to be ill. Do you have something for me to . . . use? I don't want to be sick in here. I'm afraid I'll wake . . . the thing in here with me."
Ashyn hadn't wanted to say it that way, but Belaset insisted. If she called her a girl or used her name, it would be clear they'd been speaking, and the guard would be wary.
"Is there a bucket?" Ashyn asked. Belaset had said there was, hanging from the wagon, so the captives could relieve themselves.
The guard grunted. She heard the bucket clatter against the wood. He opened the door just enough to pass the bucket through. Ashyn pulled it into the gap so the guard couldn't close the door.
Now it was time to use her wiles. Did she even have wiles? She doubted it, but she could feel the guard's gaze fixed on those opened buttons, on the pale skin beneath.
Pretend I'm a maiden in a tale, and this is my warrior love, slipping to my door for a few stolen moments.
She leaned forward, letting her tunic open more, her hair tumbling over it, and she didn't need to fake the blushing cheeks or shy gaze as she looked up into his face. He was not much older than she, his own cheeks darkening as he stared at her open tunic.
He's only a boy. We can't do this.
I'll find another way.