"Shit," Percy said.
He was crouched over the body of the bandit leader, dragged away from the cliff and flipped onto its back. Arianne bent over with her hands on her knees, peering at the body beside him.
"He's a Wyl," Percy said. "I'm not sure what his name was. Waylar? It was something like that. He's one of the younger sons. I saw him in Wylmouth a handful of times, usually when his sister wanted to check what the boats had brought."
"He knew me," Arianne declared. "I saw it. He understood who I was, if not why I was here, and he knew what would follow my death."
"What's that?"
"Poison and pain."
If Arianne sounded a bit vindictive about it, well, he didn't hold it against her. The bodies of her soldiers weren't far away, and that was without thinking of the threats she'd faced.
"I'm being pursued by now," Arianne said. "Though I don't know who, I know it must be so. If it is my uncle, House Wyl would not have stood for much longer."
"He would've known they were behind it?"
"He would've known they hadn't stopped it. He wouldn't need more."
Percy shifted his gaze on the corpse. "Waylar wasn't the only one, either. I'd say maybe a third of these men were better trained. They had nicer weapons and they wielded them better."
"Truly? I didn't see anything like that."
Percy shrugged. "Better doesn't mean good. It was probably hard to notice since the fight was so short."
Arianne found herself laughing. The mirth was short-lived. She caught sight of Waylar's injuries again, recalling half of them came from her dagger. Laughter stopped and her voice cleared.
"House Wyl has a violent past. They were feared by the Marcher Lords in the Stormlands as much as any house. The Yronwoods were stronger, but unless victory was certain anyone would rather face them in battle. Waylar's threats at me were strange because of who I am, not because they were out of character. The Wyls have learned how to look and act as lords. Everyone knows they are still vipers beneath the skin."
Percy stared at the corpse's vacant eyes. People in Wylmouth wouldn't talk about their liege lords when they didn't have to. On occasion, when she was confident no one could hear her, Dyanna told him similar tales. The Wyls would never be on the invite-list to any wedding Percy was planning.
"They were once a wealthy family," Arianne said. "Mostly from plunder. Their castle is built atop a maze of caves that only they understand. When they had pillaged all they pleased from the northern marches, they would retreat into their castle where none dared follow. They still make good coin, off of trade now. But it's not as they used to."
"Banditry is their side hustle," Percy said.
That got Arianne to look at him. "There is a swindler beside you?" She sounded a bit offended.
"No, I meant—" All of Dyanna's language lessons couldn't help with phrases that didn't exist in the Common Tongue. Tossing out direct translations without thinking had gotten Percy into more than a few confusing situations since his arrival. "A saying from my homeland. It means a way to make money that isn't your main job. Like a ship captain who plays tiles to feed his purse whenever he's in port."
"I see. Yes, that might be accurate. The Boneway is the second largest pass into Dorne. It's treacherous enough that one in twenty caravans disappear during the trip. If their goods found way to House Wyl's possession in the process, it would be in the house's best interest."
"Until they stumbled onto a princess instead of wines and silks," Percy deduced. "The men from House Wyl were all near the back. The plan was probably to kill the bandits while they fought over you. When they were dead, you would've followed. Whoever caught up with you would've found the heads of the bandits waiting for them with House Wyl's deepest apologies for not being fast enough. It might've even saved them."
"I— That sounds plausible." Arianne looked surprised. "You understood that much from how they positioned themselves?"
"Partially. My teacher taught me about how the noble houses do politics." Percy tapped his fingers on his knee, slowly. "Once you get the gist of it, you start seeing the same themes a whole lot." He stood up, stretching briefly, and picked up the sword he had taken, finding a way to crudely slide it beneath his rope belt. He smiled at Arianne, his eyes just a tad tired. "We should really move. Whatever Waylar's game was, I'd put a golden dragon on his house knowing about it, and they won't want anybody else catching wind. Witnesses will hurt whatever story they plan to sell."
"Which means it's in their best interest to kill us off, should they find us first." Arianne hastily straightened. For a second, it looked like she was going to climb her horse and ride off. Luckily, she took another breath. "How long do we have?"
"No idea. It depends on if House Wyl has more men nearby to clean up any accidents." Percy hummed. "I doubt that. Most likely, they'll start looking for these guys tomorrow at the earliest. We might have days, if we're lucky. No idea how often Waylar was supposed to check in."
Arianne sucked her lower lip. "A day…"
She was looking past Percy now. Her men made up a minority of bodies on the dry ground now. They stood out much more starkly to Arianne. When she said nothing and didn't move, Percy touched her shoulder. She jumped as if a wolf had snuck up on her.
"The brotherhood had shovels." With them had been a few tools to make outdoor life easier. Small canvases that could be strung up for shade or shelter, a variety of preserved foods, and shovels to make sure they didn't step in their friends' shit at night. "We have time."
"But—" Arianne said.
"We have time."
She insisted on helping him dig. The heat and the exertion bothered her. Inevitably, dust accumulated on her body and beneath her nails. With her discomfort showing, Arianne didn't quit.
Percy did most of the work. He didn't mention that. With how focused Arianne was, he doubted she noticed it either. To her it was her own strength that had broken the dry ground, past the thin layer of sand and into the hard sheet underneath. They opened enough earth to swallow her men in twelve equal bites. Then, it became a job of filling each hole back in.
Percy put extra work into hiding the traces of where they dug. When House Wyl came to investigate, he wouldn't put it past them to dig visible graves up searching for a hint of what happened.
They left the Boneway Brotherhood where they lay, exposed to the sun and free to be bitten by the wind. Which left only the horses.
Two had died. In addition to the one that was shot from beneath Ser Wells, another had been hit in the head by an arrow meant for its rider. The others were alive and healthy. It would've seemed strange to Arianne that they didn't run off, had she been in a clearer state of mind. As it was, her thoughts were on graves, not the strange behavior of mounts.
"We'll go forward," Percy said. "I've never been to the Stormlands but we can find our way there. Wylmouth is out. Trying to find whoever's following you could work, or we could ride straight into more Wyl men. North is the safest."
Arianne just nodded. Percy started to collect the horses, gathering them together and touching them gently, whispering soothing sounds.
"Go back to Wylmouth," he said, his voice floating gently to their ears. "Remember the path we took. Follow the river."
He clapped once and sent the horses roaring off. Arianne cried out. It took her a moment to notice that three horses stayed with them— the one Percy had ridden here, the one that she had ridden, and a third.
"You sent them away." She could understand that, but not why or how.
"They'll get back to Wylmouth." Percy had no doubt about that. Horses were smarter than people thought, especially these ones, and especially with the push he had given them. "We can't travel with that many. It would make us too obvious. This is the best way. One for each of us and a third for emergencies."
Arianne didn't share his confidence that the horses would make it back to Wylmouth. He could tell just by her face. She still mounted her horse and watched as Percy climbed onto his, seeing no fault in his logic. No matter how much they were worth, the horses were less valuable than her life.
The sun was just starting to descend from its apex when they left the scene of the ambush. The sand steeds proved the legends of their stamina and speed were well-founded. After five hours they reached the bridge where Percy was meant to turn back. He and Arianne crossed it, riding north until pink entered the sky. The terrain here was forested, unlike the narrow cliffside sections that awaited them later on, so Percy used the light they still had to leave the road behind. They slipped between trees and trampled through bushes until they found a clearing next to the river, far enough from the road to require effort on the part of any would-be visitors.
Percy helped Arianne down from her horse. Her body ached, as she admitted quietly, but her eyes told the full story. The real ache was inside.
"Alright!" Percy clapped, and combined with his loud volume, the sound jolted Arianne into a more alert state. "We'll be safe here. Which means it's time to clean up."
The spot they'd found was choked with natural beauty. The Wyl's bank had a bump to its shape, a wide semi-circular pool that lacked the biting current of the river's middle. Percy could immediately tell that it was deep and calm. Perfect for swimming.
He literally pushed Arianne toward the bank. She didn't dig her heels in until their reflections appeared in the glassy water.
"I bathed last night! I do not need another one. I'm not in the mood."
"Maybe you're not in the mood, but there's definitely a need," Percy said.
A spark appeared in Arianne's eyes. "And what does that mean?"
Percy sniffed, hauling air into his nostrils. His eyebrows climbed, and he gave Arianne a look. Just a look.
"Insolence!" she gasped. "Tell the truth. You just wish to see the view."
"I'm sure the view will be a treat for the eyes I have in the back of my head while I'm erecting your tent. Just bathe, Lady Martell. Take pity on my poor nose."
"The way that you pronounce me Lady Martell feels more demeaning than any curse I've been treated to," Arianne said. She looked down at her reflection, then at her fingers and the dirt stuck beneath the nails. She'd barely spoken since they lowered her men into the ground, but now she seemed to come alive again, beginning with a huff. "Very well, I'll accept the river's hospitality. For your service today I grant you the right to look twice."
"What an honor."
"For most men it would be," Arianne grumbled beneath her breath. Percy was already leaving.
Arianne's luxurious tent had been left behind. Percy brought the one that had belonged to Ser Wells instead. At roughly one-third the size, it could actually be raised with a single pair of hands, making it infinitely more useful in their situation. Percy had brought a second tent for himself, but wouldn't be using it tonight. He was eager for a night under the stars.
His sharp ears caught the shifting sounds of Arianne disrobing. There was a conspicuous pause that lasted the better part of a minute, during which she stood on the bank nude, waiting for him to glance away from the mess ropes and canvas sheets. When he didn't, he could hear a huff, followed by the ripple of her dusky body entering the water. Soon splashing began as she scrubbed caked grime off her skin.
Percy finished the tent before Arianne was done bathing. He took a step back from it, making sure the canvas wouldn't come flopping down. Satisfied, he walked over to Arianne's shed clothes.
Her head was visible bobbing in the water. She watched him come closer with a quirked eyebrow. When he shifted her shirt and pulled out her dagger, she swam closer.
"It's valuable," Arianne said. "In gold and sentimentality."
Percy hummed. He sat down with his back turned to the pool, crossing his legs. He'd brought a rag from their campsite. Reaching back, he let the cloth fill with water, before bringing it to the blade and carefully wiping away the smears of red.
"It's well cared for."
"A gift from my cousin," Arianne said. "She instilled the need to keep it sharp the moment that I received it. Treat it like a treasured servant, and it will never abandon you in times of need." Arianne laughed, the noise choked with bitterness. "It seems I took her advice to heart. I treated that blade with more care than men willing to die for me."
Percy set the cloth down. He could see himself in the blade's surface now. He picked up a smooth, round rock taken from one of the fallen soldiers, honing the dagger's edge.
"They were fighting men, Arianne. They always knew their lives were on the line."
"Yet, if I did not take this path, they would be alive now. I got them killed."
"Yeah." Dancing around the truth wouldn't do her any favors— Percy said it blunt and simple. "When you're in charge, everything you do has a weight. Mistakes can cost a lot. It's usually not you who pays, which can almost make it worse." He paused, a wistful look crossing his face, turned back on him by the flat of Arianne's dagger. "One wrong move… One bad gamble… That's all it takes."
Arianne didn't answer. Percy wasn't sure if she had expected him to comfort her, or whether she was pleased or cross that he hadn't.
"Remember their names," he said.
This got a response. "Their names?"
"Their faces, too, if you can. Little things that they did or loved. Something that will stick in your head like glue and won't come loose."
Castor always smiled when he was planting strawberries. Michael Yew would stand on his tip-toes for photos. Silena Beauregard gave him his first pegasus riding lesson. He could see each of them now.
"...That sounds painful."
"Right?" Percy smiled, not that Arianne could see it. "It keeps the pain fresh. Makes it harder to make the same mistake twice." His smile turned into a grimace. "Harder. Not impossible."
He heard mellow splashing. Arianne was deep enough to tread water, the ground just out of reach of her toes.
"I will do that," she said. "Even if it makes me feel as if I will cry. You do not know this about me, but I am very good at crying. I can even make important decisions while I'm doing it, a skill that I'll surely need, following advice such as yours."
Percy chuckled. "I'm glad to hear it, Lady Martell."
Her dagger was in perfect condition. There hadn't been much for him to do. Its condition was good to begin with, and the use it had seen was sparing. He slid it back into its sheath, a leather thing trimmed with gold, and set both aside. He was getting ready to treat his new sword — a much longer project given the negligence of its past owner — when water shifted behind him.
The sound of Arianne swimming was replaced by steps. He heard the patter of drops falling off her body and striking the pool as her torso rose past the surface. He still didn't look, but he did set his sword atop the grass.
Arianne's voice came from right behind him. "You spoke of my smell, yet your only bath has been in men's blood. You're twice as foul as I've ever been in my life. As your princess I command you, bathe."
"My sword still needs to be cleaned. I have to prepare dinner, too. We don't have much light left."
Arianne sighed. Moments later, Percy felt a weight in his back. She was very warm compared to the night, even with her body dressed in chilly water. Arianne was soft everywhere except for the tips of her breasts, where stiff little daggers poked him through his wool shirt.
"You saved my life. You shielded me from something worse than death. A dip in a refreshing pool is the lowest payment I could offer."
"I don't need to be paid for doing that," Percy said. "Besides, you already gave me silver."
She made a noise of disbelief reminiscent of the red mountains' birds of prey. "I hired a guide, not an army upon two legs! If you are going to be stubborn, then at least go and fetch my change of clothes. I cannot cook but I can sing. Perhaps you will let me pay you that way."
It was a fair point that she wouldn't want to change into this outfit until it had been cleaned of dust and blood. Arianne's grip loosened and Percy rose.
As soon as he was standing, she seized his wrist and pulled with her whole body. For a moment, Percy stood still, holding her weight aloft. Then he leaned back slightly and the two of them splashed into the shallows.
Arianne laughed victoriously. "Bathe!" she cackled, constituting one of the stranger battle cries Percy had heard.
For a moment, the pool was still. She waded deeper, looking about. "Percy?"
He erupted from the water, bringing a splash with him. Arianne was submerged up to her neck again now, and she spluttered. "A counterattack!"
She tried to get him in return, only to find waves hitting her head from all sides. The water rippled unnaturally, riding up and completely soaking her curly black hair until it hung over her eyes. "How are you doing that?" The demand earned her a mouthful of water, which she was forced to spit out.
Seeing only one way to escape, Arianne squinted until she spotted him and lunged. Her arms went around his back, squeezing against him like a drowned sailor holding to driftwood. Percy couldn't help laughing when she looked up at him, a sticky black curtain across her face.
"It is not funny. You are good at entirely too many things," Arianne declared. "You can fight with swords and water better than any man I've laid eyes on."
She was way more right than she knew.
Percy found that all his witty replies missing. Arianne was plastered against him. She was wearing nothing, while his own clothes felt thin with the water soaked into them. Arianne's nipples stuck into his stomach this time. Her arms were tight to the small of his back. Looking down at her, he could see the dark outline of her body in the crystalline water. She felt him too. As clearly as he could make out her curves, she could feel the muscles he sported, from his abs against her chest to his lats pressing into her wrists. There was a stirring between his legs. He thought he might've heard Arianne gasp, but it was quiet and hard to catch.
The sun sank a little deeper, darkening their surroundings. Percy blinked. He hadn't been lying about the need for dinner, so he eased Arianne back, separating them, and ignored how much more of her womanly shape he could see through the water.
"I really need to start a fire now," he said, holding out his soaked arms.
As he waded past her, Arianne eyed him. Her eyes went to his arms and hands, the parts of him that had been the dirtiest after the fight. A question burst from her lips. "How are you so clean?"
He'd only been in the water for a bit, and he'd hardly spent the time scrubbing himself. It was like the water had scoured him with a mind of its own. Percy stopped in an ankle-deep part of the pool.
"Someone made me take a bath," he said.