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“What, pray tell, is wrong with my attire? Do women not wear dresses in your country?”
“Yes, but the style is much looser for ease of movement, and that type of color”—he waved a hand—“is reserved for ceremonial occasions.”
She glanced at herself as she munched on a hunk of bread. “It’s blue.”
“I’m aware.”
“People here don’t wear blue?”
“They do for special events. Day-to-day wear tends to be of a darker, more serviceable nature.”
Her lips pursed. “This is all I’ve brought unless you want me wearing combat leathers.”
“Why would you have combat garments?” he asked in puzzlement.
“In case I have to fight.” She rolled her eyes.
“Women don’t?—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you, because we do indeed fight, at least where I’m from.”
His lips pulled taut in disapproval. “Are your men inept cowards?”
“No, but we don’t have many in Acca, and none at all at Mystic Keep. Our witches are female in case you didn’t know.”
“Surely you have soldiers to protect your queen and kingdom?”
“Soldiers, yes, but they are women and before you ask, yes they know how to fight.”
“Women learning combat.” He shook his head. “I’d heard the stories but didn’t put any credence in them.”
“Dare I ask why you think us incapable?”
“Because women are gentle.”
She snorted. “Not the ones I know.”
“You are not as I expected.” He couldn’t tell yet if that were a good or bad thing.
“And what did you expect other than an old lady?” she taunted, eating a fig.
“I don’t know.” He couldn’t exactly claim he expected a crone in rags who would speak in gibberish and shake a staff while stamping her feet. The last supposed witch he’d encountered in the border market had a list of theatrics she employed to grift people. He’d jailed her for pretending to speak to the dead. It turned out the voices people heard weren’t their loved ones but the charlatan’s children, pretending.
“Well maybe it’s time your womenfolk saw an example of what it’s like to live in a non-male-dominated society.”
“Don’t blame me if they react poorly.”
“I would think your people will follow your lead. Treat me with respect and I imagine they will follow.”
“The same respect you’ve shown me?” he retorted.
Her lips curved mischievously. “Can the mighty warlord not handle words?”
The barb hit and he stiffly replied, “I will inform Menno, the lieutenant in charge of the citadel’s security, that you are my guest and to be treated with respect.”
“Excellent. Now if you don’t mind, it’s been a long day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She dismissed him and he didn’t know if he should take offense. She certainly had a direct manner about her. Were all women outside Srayth so bold? He wouldn’t know. He’d never travelled past the borders and only rarely had contact with foreigners.
