“To take a piss. Is that all right with my employers?”

No one says anything, and Kellyn disappears into the thickness of the trees.

I sidle up next to Temra. “For a moment, I thought he’d abandon us.”

“Remember, his kind will do anything for the right price. Quick thinking about the bonus.” She nudges her shoulder against mine.

“We make a pretty good team,” I say.

“Yes, we do,” Petrik says, and we both just stare at him. “What? I was feeling left out.”

“It’s time to put your cooking skills to the test,” Temra says. “Why don’t you get started while we make a fire? Then we’ll decide whether or not you’re worth the trouble.”

Petrik has sausages sizzling over a frying pan, eggs scrambled from a nearby pheasant nest I spotted, and mint tea boiling in no time. His cooking skills weren’t exaggerated.

Kellyn bites into some fire-heated toast, before asking, “What exactly is the connection between you all? You’re sisters, right? Your faces have the same shape. But who’s this guy to you?”

Petrik introduces himself. “I’m working on a book, exploring the known magics of the world. Miss Ziva is kind enough to answer questions about her specialty on the road.”

“And you’re wearing a dress because…?”

Petrik glares at the man. “These are robes. I was trained at the Great Library of Skiro. And I’ll have you know I am a leading expert on ancient magics.”

“And just how many people are in your field?”

The faintest red hue appears on Petrik’s brown cheeks. “I don’t recall the exact number.”

“You sure? Because I’d bet you could count them on one hand.”

I intervene. “You’re being awfully rude.”

I regret the words instantly, because Kellyn turns those big brown eyes on me, making my heart do a traitorous flip. “Being nice costs extra.” He offers me a small grin. “I’m kidding. The man talks a big game; I just wanted to know how much of an expert we were dealing with. Sounds to me like someone just has a big head.”

“Says the man who named his sword Lady Killer,” Petrik grumbles.

Kellyn gives the scholar a startled look.

“You mumbled it several times in your sleep. Didn’t take long for me to realize you meant your weapon. Ridiculous name.”

“Now, there’s no need to go insulting another man’s sword. Lady Killer will be far more useful to us on the road than your books.”

“I’m going to stop you both right there,” Temra says. “Ziva and I acknowledge that you’re both big important men. Now eat your food.”

Petrik doesn’t take his eyes off the mercenary. “Maybe if the brute could read, he wouldn’t be so dismissive of—”

“I can read just fine,” Kellyn says. “And I can swing a sword. One might say I have double your talents.”

“When you’re not passed out drunk,” I mumble.

Kellyn shifts his gaze from the scholar to me. Before he can say another word, I rise and dust off my palms. “Ten more minutes before we depart, and you two better play nice.”