House of Bull

                Chancey stopped in front of the prince’s horse. He was not bad looking. Slender. His skin looked soft. His clothes were wet from the rain. She liked that he was uncomfortable. He sat his horse like he knew how to ride. Before he could speak, she pointed, “Rude to sit a mount when talking to a lady, don’t you think?”

                The prince was irritated by this. “I see,” he swung down barely being patient. Instantly a man came from the brush to hold his horse’s reins.

                Chancey could not have been more pleased, one more was out in the open. “I’m wearing weapons. My position requires it.”

                “Position…and what position is that?”

                “You’re about to find out,” she assured him. “And to keep things civil between us, good manners require that I tell you that I’ve training in the Art of Cimtook.” That ought to bring out any who were Cimtook trained. None of those with him moved as if able to battle her should she use Cimtook.

                “I’ve only heard stories of you,” he said looking at her male clothing. Her sword was down her back, but her open cloak let him see her numerous knives. He seemed more interested in her muddy boots. Her hair was long, but pulled back. “I’d imagine a common braid.” She did not respond.  “So you are the daughter of Bull.”

                “Yes,” she said unwilling to take offense from his tone. “And you’re one of the many princes of Ramsil. What are there? Three hundred or something?”

                That insulted him. His eyes and mouth showed it.

                “What’s your number?” she asked. As slaves were numbered, she was inferring so were all the royals of Ramsil.

                He had made the connection, yet he seemed arrogantly compelled to answer. “Sixty-second in line,” he said with a short proper bow of his head.

                “Surprised you’d bother crossing the ocean after these people with only sixty-one in your way to the crown. Couldn’t you think of anything more interesting to do?” She saw his eyes looking past her. She chose to keep this calm so she looked behind her. Smitty, the mountain men, and some of the builders were walking toward them. Hopefully, the others were getting down the road. She really did not want them to see her handle this situation. He could surrender, she thought looking at the prince again. But she knew, he would not. He had followed them over an ocean. He spent the time to hunt them. He had hurt Brushouse. If she let him go, that Bennett was right, he could return to tell others where they were. What of Brushouse’s family still in Torlece?

                “We’re civilized,” he said but his attention was distracted. He looked to the only other man truly close to him, the one holding his horse, then back to her.

                “Civilized? Strange brag for a man hunting people and killing women, scaring children. Do you call what you’re doing civilized?” Chancey heard others in the brush. His other men were coming onto the road. Well, at least Smitty and the men coming had brought more of his men out of hiding.

                “I didn’t put this lot into their circumstance,” said the prince.

                “But you could profit from it?” she said looking behind her when she thought her friends were close enough and gestured them to stop. She looked back to Dangel. “Well, we’re all gathered. Let’s have a civilized conversation.” How could he not know what to expect from her!

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