Nina climbed the steps and smiled sweetly at the big man as the other girl trailed her. “Thank Djel we’ve found shelter for the night.” She glanced over his shoulder into the lodge. The room was crowded with men, ten at least, all gathered around a fire. Nina felt tension spike through her. This was a moment when she would have been glad to see drüskelle, who didn’t drink and who were kept to a strict code regarding women. There was nothing to do but brazen it out. “And among gentlemen to protect us!”
“Who are you?” the man said suspiciously.
Nina pushed past him as if she owned the place. “Aren’t we lucky, Inger? Let’s get in front of that fire. And close the door …” She laid a hand on the man’s chest. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”
He blinked. “Anders.”
“Be a darling and shut the door, Anders.”
They shuffled inside, and she met the stares of the men with a smile. “I knew Djel would guide our way, Inger. Surely your father will have a healthy reward in store for all of these fine fellows.”
For a moment, the girl looked confused, and Nina thought they might be lost. But then her face cleared. “Yes! Yes, indeed! My father is most generous when it comes to my safety.”
“And with you betrothed to the wealthiest man in Overüt.” Nina winked at the men gathered by the fire. “Well, I suppose Djel has granted you gentlemen a bit of luck this night too. Now, which of you will stand guard for us?”
“Stand guard?” said a man with tufty orange brows by the fire.
“Through the night.”
“Dumpling, I think you’re in a muddle—”
“Lady Inger’s father is most generous, but he cannot be expected to bestow ten thousand krydda on every one of you, so you must choose who is to be the beneficiary.”
“Ten thousand krydda?”
“That was the price last time, was it not? When we were stranded in that amusing spot down south. Although, I suppose now that you are betrothed to the wealthiest man in Overüt, it may be twice the price.”
“Who is this bridegroom you speak of?” the bearded man asked.
“You’ve heard of Bernhard Bolle, who made his fortune in smoked trout? And Ingvar Hals, who owns timberland from the Elbjen to the Isenvee? Well, Lennart Bjord towers above them all.”
“Lennart Bjord?” the bearded man repeated.
“That does sound familiar,” said someone by the hearth. Nina highly doubted that, since she’d made him up mere moments ago.
“I was the first to greet them,” said the big man with the rifle. “It’s only right I should get the reward.”
“How is that fair? You happened to be by the door!”
“Now, don’t get too riled,” Nina said with a schoolmarm tsk in her voice as the men began debating who would take the watch. “Lennart Bjord will have a bit of something for everyone.”
Nina and “Inger” settled in the corner, their backs to the wall as the men argued.
“That was pathetic,” the girl seethed, resting her elbows on her knees and tugging her skirt over the toes of her boots.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You made us seem weak. Every time we behave that way, it just makes it easier for men to look at us and see nothing but softness.”
“There is nothing wrong with softness,” Nina said, her temper fraying. She was exhausted and cold, and she’d dug her lover’s grave tonight. “Right now they’re looking at us as two big bags of money instead of two vulnerable girls alone.”
“We weren’t vulnerable. I have my gun, my knife. You have those ridiculous darts.”
“Do you also have twelve arms hidden in that coat? We’re outnumbered.” Nina actually suspected that she could have managed all of them, but only if she intended to reveal her true power, and that would mean putting this girl in the ground tonight too.
“They’re drunk. We would have managed.”
“You don’t enter a fight you can’t win,” Nina replied, irritated. “I’m guessing you’ve had to train in secret, and that you’ve probably never had a real combat instructor. Being strong doesn’t mean being sloppy.”
The wiry girl drew her coat closer. “I hate it. I hate how they see us. My father is the same way. He thinks a woman wanting to fight or hunt or fend for herself is unnatural, that it denies men the chance to be protectors.”
Nina snorted. “It really is a tragedy for them. What does your mother think?”
“My mother is the perfect wife, except she provided my father no sons. She does as he dictates.” The girl sighed. She looked weary suddenly, the thrill of the fight and the storm gone. Her hair—that extraordinary color, like the woods in autumn, chestnut and red and gold—lay storm-damp and tangled against her brown cheeks. “I can’t blame her. It’s the way the world works. She’s worried I’ll become an outcast.”
“So they sent you to a convent in the middle of nowhere?”
“Where I couldn’t get into trouble or embarrass them in front of their friends. Don’t pretend you think differently. I saw the way you looked at me when you helped us in the clearing.”
“You were dressed as a soldier. I was entitled to a little surprise.” And she’d been dedicated to maintaining her cover, not befriending a Grisha—one who might be able to get her closer to the factory. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I travel on my own, make my own living.”
“That’s different. You’re a widow.”
“You needn’t sound quite so envious.”
The girl rubbed her hand over her brow. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless.”
Nina studied her. There was something relentless in her features—the cheekbones sharp, the nose rigorously straight. Only the full thrust of her lips gave any hint of softness. It was a challenging face, stubborn in its lines. Beautiful.
“We’re not as different as you might think.” Nina bobbed her head toward the men, who were now arm wrestling for the right to a generous reward that none of them would ever see. “It’s fear that makes your father act as he does, that makes men write foolish rules that say you can’t travel alone or ride as you wish to.”
The other girl bit back a laugh. “Why should they be afraid? The world belongs to them.”
“But think of all the things we might achieve if we were allowed to do the things that they do.”
“If they were truly afraid, you wouldn’t have to simper and preen.”
Nina winked. “You’ve seen me simper. If I ever decide to preen, you’ll need to sit down for it.”
The girl stifled a snort. “I’m Hanne.”
“Nice to meet you,” Nina said. “I’m Mila.” She’d told countless lies this night, but somehow it felt wrong to give this girl a false name.
“You don’t really mean for us to sleep, do you, Mila?” Hanne’s face was knowing.
“Not a chance. You’re going to keep your hand on your dagger, and I’m going to keep first watch.”
Nina touched her hand to her sleeve, felt the reassuring presence of the bones lining the fabric. She watched the flickering of the fire.