The Rogue Lady

Chapter Forty

     Next Wednesday Camp NaNoWriMo will begin and I'll be working on the sequel some more. Of course, in April I'm also going on a short trip and will have to start learning for exams so I don't know how much writing will get done. I'm not sure what the hell I'm doing with the sequel either so I hope I will figure this out some time soon. 

     In the meantime, there are still about twenty chapters for you to enjoy!! =D

     **

     I had to admit I was enjoying it a bit too much, but who could blame me? This man had practically forced me into a takeover either because he had been too much of a cowered or because he was the spy. Eric had allowed me to do whatever I needed to do to figure out if Sir Arthur was a spy or not but he had taken my blades from me. He must have sensed that I would have killed him otherwise. But I didn’t need my blades to do that; I could about as easily snap his neck. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to go that far. I still had some control over myself; and I got the feeling William wouldn’t take too kindly to killing one of his men.

     “Say, Sir Arthur, where exactly is it that you are from? I never could figure that out,” I asked casually as I watched the knight who sat next to me at the table.

     “I am originally from Eriport. Why?” He glanced at me and maybe I saw something that resembled to nervousness fleet through his eyes but I wasn’t entirely certain. It was gone before I could pinpoint.

     “Well, I’m curious. You don’t have an accent and you don’t wear any colors. Come to think of it, you must be the first person I meet from Eriport that doesn’t have an accent, which is curious don’t you think?” I asked Eric, who nodded though he probably didn’t know. I doubted Jarrick had taught him much geography over the years; he had other things to teach him. “I always thought the mixture of three different accents was amazing to hear.”

     Anyone would have taken that as a cue to let me hear the accent but Sir Arthur sat there and looked at me. Then he said, without accent, “Why would I have to have an accent? You don’t have one. You don’t even look like you are from Silverley.”

     “Because I’m colorless? My mother was from further up north than you can imagine; she was also the person who did everything in her power to make sure I didn’t have an accent. When you live as a noble in Silverley, she used to say, odds are that you will meet nobles from different Kingdoms and they might not be able to understand you if you have a heavy accent.”

     “I’m lost here. Where is Eriport exactly?” Eric asked.

     “It’s in the furthest most north-east corner of Driaven, just north of Linfort, almost on the border with Niri and Trelle. Very important for the Kingdom but Sir Arthur is more qualified than me to talk to you about that.”

     And together we turned to look at the knight, who seemed to choke on his words by the sudden attention. Then Eric spoke up, startling him even more. “You know, you said Svana didn’t look like she was from Silverley but you don’t look like you are from the north. More like you are from the south; you have the same dark skin as Tom.”

     “He must have a parent from the south,” I shrugged. “What I want to know is why you aren’t wearing any colors. I doubt your Lord would be happy with that; who is he again?”

     “Lord Sven and Lady Clara wouldn’t mind. They would understand that I can’t wear their colors in these difficult times.” I frowned at the names of the Lord and Lady. I knew very well that those weren’t the ones from Eriport, and yet Sir Arthur seemed so sure of himself. Had I not known their names, I would have believed him. He must be stupid, thinking that he could lie to me and get away with it. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, shame on you.