Squeaking in at the last moment with a tag from @wolpertingerantlers
I don't reallyyy have much of a wip, but I have this snippet that I wrote today using a couple prompts from the discord.
“I’m no fool. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice.”
Valda smiles grimly at her hands, ignoring the shape of Luthen lurking at her peripherals. “Oh? Is it a look of thinly veiled contempt?”
Luthen laughs. Despite Valda’s tone, there's an amused twinkle in his eye. “More or less.”
“I wonder why that could be.”
Shrugging, Luthen spreads his hands. He leans his weight against a tree trunk, watching as Valda continues peeling the bark off the branches of the shrub. “I do not know. I am not responsible for your circumstances, my lady.” His smile only grows as Valda shoots him a withering look.
“Perhaps not,” Valda says. She stands, brushing soil off her skirt and slipping her knife back into the sheath at her waist. In her free hand, she grips a handful of flexible new growth branches, opaque milky sap oozing from their cut ends. She's careful not to let it touch her skin. “But neither have you done much to lend your assistance, so I see no reason why I should look upon you favorably.”
“And yet, you look upon me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Luthen’s head tilts. He regards her silently. Slowly, his amusement shifts into something sterner. Despite his thus far affable nature, Valda is suddenly reminded that his kind are not given their reputations for no reason. Too often, she has been flippant, verging on impolite, with him. A chill touches the nape of her neck and she resists the urge to take a step back. This far, he has not seemed half crazed as some of his kind could be. If anything, that makes him more dangerous. Valda knows nothing of him. His genial nature could be nothing but a front.
The woods of Ormorin seem much darker with Luthen’s long shadow stretching across the pine needles. It wouldn't do her any good to earn herself his anger. She should have been reminding herself of the risks.
After a moment, Luthen says, “You are in need of an ally - you and your Southerner companion.”
Valda stiffens. Luthen’s expression takes on a wry edge. He picks at his nails, an eyebrow lifting as he cocks a foot, the toe of his boot scratching a furrow in the dirt. Casually, he says, “You are not so subtle as you may think, my lady - I have keen ears, and voices carry in the dark.”
“You offer assistance in the same breath you threaten me.” Valda lifts her chin. She doesn't dare grab for the knife at her belt, though she keenly wishes she hadn't put it away. She wishes she weren't alone. She wishes Liev were here. “How am I to believe you mean what you say?”
“I have withheld the truth from Bretten,” Luthen says.
Valda’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
Luthen shrugs, an easy roll of the shoulder. “You may presume to know me, my lady,” he says. “But you do not.”
“Exactly,” Valda says. “I know nothing of you. How am I to trust you?”
“Do you have a choice?” Luthen’s head tilts again. Valda has the distinct impression that she is caught beneath the eye of a predator. “Your welcome here is tenuous. You are alone here. Your only ally plays at being deaf and mute, and thus his use to you is limited. Should Bretten discover his deception - and yours - he will kill you both.”
“He may try,” Valda says, her free hand clenching in her skirt. “I am harder to kill than he may think.”
“I have no doubt,” Luthen says smoothly. He indicates her headband, bearing the mark of her rank among her people. “You are, after all, an honored Sage. But you are one woman, and Bretten has his means.”
Valda tries not to let her trepidation show on her face. A muscle in her jaw ticks. “Will you be the one to inform him should I refuse?”
“No,” Luthen says plainly. “Accept my offer or refuse it, but I will keep your secret all the same.”
The tension in Valda’s shoulders is loosening, but she still eyes him warily. She shakes her head in confusion. “Why would you make such an offer? Is Bretten not your king?”
“Tyrant, perhaps.” A look of dissatisfaction flashes across Luthen’s face. He shakes his head, the charms in his hair chattering with the ominous clack of bone on bone. “I am not from his clan. I traded my loyalty for a home, but I no longer find this arrangement agreeable.”
“And you ask for what in return?” Valda asks. “I have nothing to give you.”
“Allow me to accompany you when you and your companion leave this place,” Luthen says.
Valda blinks. She gapes a bit, eyes wide. “I… I cannot make that promise. Liev is… he will go back to his people in the South.”
Luthen waves a hand. “I have been to the South before. I know their customs and their ways, and I speak their language.”
That's surprising. Embarrassed, Valda thinks of several hissed conversations with Liev in the privacy of their borrowed tent or in the dark, on the fringes of the village firelight. She had been far too confident in her assumption that the people of Bretten’s clan wouldn't speak the language of their neighbors. Vainly, she had thought Luthen’s sidelong glances were a symptom of some passing fancy.
Her face feels hot. Valda shakes her head again. “You misunderstand. Liev will return to his people, and I… well, I don't suppose I’ll follow.”
“Then you will be in need of a new companion, no?”
Slowly, the last of Valda’s apprehension fades. She lets her shoulders drop with a sigh. “I…” Rubbing her forehead beneath the band of her headband, she pushes hair off her face. Lifting her eyes, Valda looks at Luthen. “Very well,” she decides. “I will speak with Liev.”
“There is no need,” Luthen says. “I have already spoken with your companion.”
Valda blinks. “You have?”
“Yes. He was far less agreeable. It took a great deal of convincing.” Luthen rubs at the knuckles of his left hand, the skin there looking red and raw.
Valda inclines her head. She knows exactly how stubborn and reactive he can be. Dryly, she says, “Does his conviction not impress you?”
“Most thoroughly, my lady.” Luthen pulls back. Their truce hangs in the air, fragile and newborn, and they eye each other warily for a heartbeat. Eventually, Valda dares to turn her back. She only makes it a few paces before Luthen calls, “He is not who you think he is, my lady. Your Southerner.”
Valda halts as though she's hit a wall. She swallows, hands clenching at her sides. When she speaks, her voice is soft, though she knows Luthen’s sharp hearing will catch it. “I know,” she says to her boots. “But he is a good man.”
“Mm. For now.” Branches crack as Luthen shifts. “But when he no longer needs you? When he is among his kin again? Your loyalty may serve you better elsewhere."
“And who might deserve it more?” Valda glances over her shoulder. “You?”
Spinning to face him, Valda squares her shoulders. “Only one of us is betraying our people,” she says. “Bretten may not be your king, but he gave you a home and a people who you now conspire against. Is that meant to instill confidence in me, löthin?”
A grin splits Luthen’s mouth, sudden and wild. It lights his eyes with amusement. He laughs, startling a bird from a tree overhead, and its indignant cry carries through the still forest air. “I can see why he likes you,” he says, eyes twinkling. “I look forward to our endeavor together, yrrda.”
Valda huffs at that, rolling her eyes, but Luthen is already moving off, disappearing between the trunks of the pines as silently as he had come.
Tagging ummm @userdogmeat @x688plsloveme but it's late so no pressure 🙏
