“How do I look?”
“Not quite like a man, but you might pass for an older boy. There’s nothing I can do about the curls, but if you keep your hood up most of the time, you might just be okay. If anyone looks too closely, your eyes will surely give you away though.” He was frowning now.
“I’m not worried about that.”
“You should be.”
“Don’t worry, Lucan, I’ll be okay. Kevaan has taught me well. I will stick to the villages where people know me, and I will ride down the back roads, away from the trade routes.”
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know that yet.” She heard someone walking around in the stables and looked to the sky. The sun was just starting its ascent and small shafts of light were starting to seep onto the landscape.
“I have to hurry. I must get back up to my room and pack some things before too many stir. I will have to take the back stairs down to the cellar and then back outside through the loading ramp.”
“Meet me just inside the orchard, near the water well. I will have your sword and your horse all ready for you. What do you require in the packs?”
“I’ll sneak some food out of the larder, and will grab a water skin from the wine cellar. Just make sure I have a bed roll, and enough tools to help me out in the wilderness. I will stick to the woods, more coverage and less people.”
He looked deep into her eyes now. “Melenthia, I’m sorry.”
“It is not your fault, Lucan.”
“Go on, get moving. I’ll meet you in fifteen minutes.”
She slunk back down the backside of the stables and across the common, her back tight up against the inner wall. The change of the guard would occur in only twenty minutes, so she had to make sure she was out the door and down to the orchard before that, or they would see her. She sneaked back in the door and up the back stairs to her room. She shut the door behind her and proceeded to fill a traveling bag with items she would need. She packed light, not more than what was absolutely necessary: a change of riding clothes, one set of clean under things, and bathing soap. She would pack the rest of the bag with enough food to last at least a week; after that, she’d have to buy more. She opened her jewel case and pulled off the top tray. There were several gold pieces that she had saved, and she stuck those in the inner pocket of her riding cloak. She threw on her cloak, tossed the bag over her shoulder and stopped for a moment to look at herself in the glass. She was curvy, but it was hidden underneath the baggy riding clothes, and her hair, now short, was shiny in the candlelight. Lucan was right, her eyes would be a problem. If anyone looked close, they would recognize her because of them. There was nothing she could do about it. She could disguise her gender with baggy clothes, cut her hair to make herself more manly, but the eyes were a dead give away. Maybe this was a stupid idea. She’d never be able to hide who she was from everyone. At some point someone would recognize her. She sighed, it was too late now.
She made a plan. She would travel north to Tamerlane, then make her way west across the bridge, and then over the border of Aaralyn into Isamar. There she would know no one and would be safe from the spies in Xenos. The Dark Woods would keep her hidden for most of the way, then she could cross the Xanthe River into Isamar. She ran her fingers through her hair again and sighed. This is what her life had come to. A life on the run, hiding from an ogre who wanted to own her. She looked back on all the men who had offered their hand to her and wondered if maybe she should have given herself to one of them. There were a couple she recalled that would have at least treated her kindly. She did not love any of them, for men of royal blood bored her and stifled her need to be who she was. But at least she would be taken care of and would not have had to resort to this. She sighed again. There has never been a man of noble blood that she loved deep enough to give her body to, much less her life to, and now it was too late.
She turned away from the glass and went to her door. She opened it just a crack and peered down the hall in each direction. She had given her hand maiden the night off since she had wanted no one’s presence last night, so there was no one lurking about. She slipped from the room and quickly and quietly moved down the hall to the back stairs. She took them down to the back side of the kitchen and listened. She could hear voices now, and cursed herself for taking too long in front of the mirror. The kitchen help were up and preparing for the meals of the day. She peeked through the door, cracked just enough to see into the room, and saw three staff. One was at the washtub, another was chopping food at the butcher block, and the other was just carrying items from out of the larder. She needed to get in there to grab some food, but she couldn’t be seen. She waited until the woman had passed, her back to the door, and then she made her move. She crouched down and slunk passed the three workers who now all had their backs to her. She opened the larder door just enough to squeeze in and slipped quietly inside. She hurriedly packed as much food as she could into the pack: dried meat, a couple loaves of bread, a hunk of cheese, several apples, and some leftover tarts that were left from last night’s dinner.