Sasha's heart beat like a hummingbird's wing, and Rannok staring at her with a surprised grin on his face did very little to fix it given the kitchen girl staring them both down like criminals. She put on a non-confrontational smile and held her hands up just a bit. 

"What makes you think we know each other?" she said, hoping against reason that the woman would back off. Sasha could sense the crow outside. It was laughing at her in that shrill voice that made her want to jump out a window, which didn't help her nerves at all. Her chest heaved as she breathed and as the woman with the apron drew closer.

"Oh, come on now. Did you really think that would work?" The woman switched her gaze over to Rannok. "Wipe that smile off your face." Her eyes went back to Sasha's sword. "That's an officer's sword. Where did you get it?"

Sasha's face flushed red-hot. "I found it." Her voice wavered and Rannok sighed, then shook his head. She never had been a good liar. The kitchen woman's eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms. The walls of the room pressed too close, and the smoke from the kitchen fire stung her lungs.

"I think you're a thief," she said, drawing her mouth into a taut line. "I think you're both thieves, and that you're here to get your boyfriend out of trouble. Would I be correct in that guess?"

Sasha's face grew hotter. Her insides curled into a tight, hard knot at the base of her stomach. She was here to get him free, nothing else. "He's not my boyfriend."

She didn't look in Rannok's direction to see what his reaction was, she couldn't bear to. She didn't want to know whether he was relieved or felt nothing. But the woman turned around and her eyes strayed unwittingly in his direction. Confusion colored his expression, as his eyes flickered back and forth between the woman and her. It made Sasha want to disappear into the floor.

The woman laughed. "And I'm not Terrean.  I'm not an idiot, girl. What's your name? Since I'm going to have no choice but to keep you around in the kitchens." The woman's voice was low and irritated as she turned back around toward the stove. "As for you, I owe you no such kindness." She looked toward Rannok. "Take your food and get out of my sight."

Sasha looked over at Rannok, who mouthed 'sorry' at her before taking his apple and cheese and taking off into the hallway. A lump rose in her throat, and she reached reflexively for the sword as the woman eyed her using her peripheral vision.

"You'd be wise not to do that," she said, pulling her sleeves back up so they wouldn't dip down into the pot. 

Sasha slipped the sword back into its scabbard. "I only came here because I needed work," she insisted, forcing her eyes from the woman's forearm before the woman could catch her ogling. "It had nothing to do with Rannok."

"Oh," the woman replied. "I suppose that's why you know his name when you haven't been introduced?" Her eyes flickered from the pot back over to Sasha. "Far be it from me to get in the way. I'm just a servant. But if I find you sneaking off..."

"You don't even know me--" Sasha said, but the words died as the woman turned. There was a long brand on the inside of her left arm. The scar was pearly white against her dark skin, ragged and angry as it curled up toward her elbow, until it formed a serpent's head. Sasha winced and tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to.

"Yes, it's a brand," she said, still not looking up. "Prostitution, one of the barrier islands, no, it isn't any of your business. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, do you have a name?"

Sasha blinked. She'd never been to the barrier islands, but she'd heard her father talk about how they were hives of pestilence and crime. Not that she'd believed him, or that she believed his definition of pestilence and crime anymore. The very thought of it set her skin to crawling again. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, and her feet shuffled backwards a few steps.

"I'm not going to eat you," the woman said. 

"Sasha," she replied, still trying not to stare at the brand. She remembered when she was fifteen, her father's men had treed a burglar with their dogs. There had been no blood, but she still remembered the hiss of the iron as it had pressed into his wrist, and the smell of charred flesh. She could still hear his screams and sense her father's lack of reaction.

Some things just made more sense when you gave them time. 

"Rosa," the kitchen woman replied. "I know you came here for that boy. I'm not an idiot and neither is Mantu. I'd suggest you watch your step if I were you. Do you know how to cut and peel potatoes?

"I grew up in an inn," Sasha said. She didn't need any more invitation before pulling one of the stools up at the other end of the counter. She wanted to ask why Mantu had helped her if he'd known the entire time. She wanted to ask why the woman didn't just tattle on her if she already knew everything.

Perhaps he has taken a liking to the boy, the crow suggested from its perch outside the window. Sasha could feel it rooting around up there, looking for a chance to interject again. It made the little hairs on her arms stand up.

Her hands had trembled when she'd knocked on the door, and the man's eyes had lit up when he saw what was on the other side of it. She scarcely remembered how their conversation had gone apart from need work and help in the kitchen. At least now she knew why he'd been so willing.

"Mantu is an idiot to take thieves into his house, but if I'm forced to deal with you, at least you can be useful," Rosa murmured as she watched Sasha peel the skin from a potato. "The kitchen help here scarcely lasts a month, with the way that infernal woman he calls a wife acts."

"I haven't met her," Sasha said, hand clenching around the knife handle. She wanted to ask why her crimes didn't color her with the same brush she'd colored Rannok, but the words died before they could leave her lips. She cut a little too deeply into a potato and shoved its remains off to the side of the countertop without looking.

"Good for you, then. Pirya's an ass, no one likes her." Rosa pulled the spoon out of whatever it was she was stirring and pushed it to the back of the stove, where the heat was less intense, before throwing on another. "Hand me some potatoes."

Sasha shoved the little pile of peeled and cut potatoes off toward Rosa before grabbing a few more out of the pile. At least here she could pretend to be useful while she formulated a plan--literally any plan--to get them both out of this mess.

"If you want my advice, keep your head low. I don't like thieves, but Mantu's gone senile and Pirya doesn't care as long as the work gets done. They won't hurt your friend, and you can leave in a year or so after he's paid off whatever stupidity he's performed. He's lucky he was caught in the mountain ridge and not somewhere else." 

Rosa's hand went to her forearm. The knife in Sasha's hand slipped again until it cracked against the table, barely missing her thumb. "I'm sorry they burned you," she said, teeth grinding together. "But you don't know anything about him or me."

Rosa snorted. "I don't need to. Everyone thinks their crimes are justified. Cut the potatoes. Try not to cut your fingers off while you do it."

Sasha resisted the urge to punch the woman in the face and hoped she wouldn't have too much trouble finding a place to stay. She resolved to ditch the sword as soon as possible before someone else labeled her a thief.