The Woman Who Rides Like a Man (Song of the Lioness #3)

“Your chest,” Kara nodded. Started, she added, “That’s right! How did you manage disguising that?”


“I bound myself,” Alanna confessed. “I never took my shirt off around the boys, either. It was difficult at first, but after a while they just accepted the fact that I was eccentric.”

“I still don’t understand.” Kara was frowning. “Women are weaker than men, and unfitted to be warriors. Surely they could tell—”

“Not from me,” Alanna said firmly, finishing off her juice. “I worked hard to win my shield. I got up early; I practiced late at night. It was hard, very hard. But it was worth it. I was good enough that Jonathan made me his squire.”

“Did he change his mind when he found out the truth?” Kourrem asked as she tidied up.

Alanna’s blush returned. “No. He said he didn’t care, I was still one of the best fighters at Court.”

“None of our men would’ve said that,” Kourrem muttered. “Even if it was true.”

“You can’t know that,” Alanna told the younger girl. “I didn’t find out until recently that Myles had known all these years. Men are peculiar.” Looking at Kara, she said, “Why are you so unhappy?”

“You never had a young man,” Kara explained mournfully. “You know—to bring you tokens, to take you walking—”

“Neither have we,” Kourrem reminded her.

“We’re practically outcasts from the tribe,” Kara responded. “Surely Alanna’s case is different.”

“Unless Prince Jonathan—” Kourrem muttered. Both girls saw the misty smile on Alanna’s face and giggled.

“It’s time for me to have a look around the village,” Alanna told them as she rose. She couldn’t explain that her relationship with Jon had progressed far beyond the tokens-and-walks stage. Neither could she tell these two innocents that George, the King of the Thieves, had indicated more than once he would like to take Jonathan’s place in her affections.

They would just be confused, Alanna told herself as the girls donned face veils once more. Although they certainly can’t be any more confused than I am.

The dust-colored tent village was quiet, except for the laughter of children and the cackle of chickens. Few men were visible; either riding or sleeping off last night, Alanna thought grumpily. Most of the women abroad hurried out of her path. Puzzled, she stopped to see if anyone would meet her eyes. Only the youngest children did, and they were snatched from her sight by their mothers.

“They really do think I’m some kind of demon,” she whispered, shocked.

“They’re just ignorant,” Kourrem replied stubbornly. “We know—Kara and Ishak and I—that you’re an ordinary woman.”

“Not an ordinary woman,” Kara demurred. “But you’re real.”

Alanna halted. “What makes you three so ready to believe I’m really human?” she asked. The girls exchanged looks.

“Akhnan Ibn Nazzir says the three of us are easily distracted from the right path, and that we are the growing-ground for evil,” Kara explained. Her face had darkened. “Perhaps I am a growing-ground for evil!” she cried. “But I am not a mean old man who cannot countenance anything new! I don’t make people outcasts because they don’t bow down to me!”

Kourrem nodded solemnly. “It’s true,” she assured Alanna. “Halef Seif will not let him cast us out into the desert, but if Akhnan Ibn Nazzir is still here when Halef Seif dies—”

“Demon!”

The shriek of rage came from behind them. Alanna spun, her hand instantly going to Lightning’s hilt. For a moment her heart twisted with pain as she remembered that her sword was useless.

Ibn Nazzir, the shaman, stood behind them, flanked by women and a few men. “Demon!” he screamed again, pointing a trembling finger at Alanna. “Not content with the soul of Halef Seif, you try to steal our young ones!” He grabbed Kara’s arm and yanked, almost making her fall.

Halef Seif came out of a nearby tent, going to stand beside Alanna and Kourrem. He raised polite brows. “I believe I retain my soul, Akhnan Ibn Nazzir,” he said quietly. “Surely I would know if it was gone.”

Alanna stared wide-eyed at the sword, which Ibn Nazzir had not been wearing the day before. It was the crystal sword that had so neatly sheared Lightning’s blade, the sword she thought was left in the desert. So that’s what he was doing, sneaking off last night! she thought. The sword’s hilt design was distinctive; where had she seen it before?