His belly cascaded over his sword belt, but Raisa had no illusions. He’d be all muscle underneath. He smelled of horse and sweat and general poor hygiene. He grinned wolfishly, revealing intermittent teeth stained with kafta nut in a jaw swollen and discolored where her boot had connected the night before.

Raisa looked about. They stood in front of a kind of rude cave, created where two slabs of rock leaned together. His horse was an upland breed, shaggy and wiry enough to negotiate mountain trails. Standard issue for the Queen’s Guard.

A dozen wolves sat on their haunches in a semicircle around them, whining uneasily.

Gillen stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak. Raisa said nothing, knowing that nothing she said could possibly do her any good.

Finally, Gillen couldn’t stand it any longer. “You wondering why you an’t dead yet, girlie?” he said, scratching his privates.

None of the possibilities that came to mind were appealing. Raisa stood, feet spread slightly apart, and said nothing.

“I’m curious, y’see,” Gillen said. “That’s why I carried you off. I wanted to ask a few questions—just you and me.” He took a step toward her, and she took one back. “We was told the Princess Raisa would be riding through here. But the only girlie that’s come through here is you.” He lifted his hands, palms up, in mock confusion. “The thing is, I know you, but you wasn’t no princess when we met before.”

Raisa shook her head. “You’re mistaken,” she said. “We’ve never met.”

“You sure?” he said, crowding her back toward the entrance to the cave. “Maybe I looked different when you saw me before.”

The gray wolves swarmed in around them, growling and snapping their jaws.

Right. I’m in danger, Raisa thought. Like I couldn’t figure that out on my own.

“You sure your name an’t Rebecca? Rebecca, sister to Sarie, the Ragmarket streetrat?” He pressed his palm against his ruined cheek. “The Rebecca what did this to me?”

Raisa continued to back away, shaking her head.

“You know, the girlies don’t like me so well as they did,” Gillen said, “with my face all scarred up like this.”

You couldn’t have been all that charming before, Raisa thought, but didn’t say it aloud.

“I’m not who you think I am,” she said. “Surely you can see that.” She’d decided it was best not to be Rebecca just now. The only thing she could do was deny it, and keep denying it.

“You do talk different than before,” Gillen said. He gave her a push, and she stumbled backward, barely keeping her feet. “You’re like a whole different person, know what I mean?”

The wolves set up a chorus of yips.

Raisa glared at them. Either shut up or attack, she thought. Make yourselves useful.