Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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the unwritten convention of a polyglot army. They also had no way of knowing what family she'd come
from and how she'd joined her present one, to laugh at that behind her back or to her face. For the most
part they did what no one had done in her life on meeting her: took her as she was.
Another unwritten convention was sharing the wineskin.I feel boneless , she thought, stretching her legs
out in the grass by the campfire, throwing on another log and watching pin-bright stars flicker where the
stream of heat rippled them. Shkai'ra's Slaughterers (she couldn't imaginekhyd-hird hadn't had at least a
hand in conceiving the name—it had her stamp) sat around now with wine and pork-fat dribbling down
chins bearded or naked, Provisional Second Bukangkt and some other Lakan playing a game with black
and white stones, others dicing, others plain lazing. Then, bringing down her eyes to pass on the wine, she
saw.
That cute Yeoli. Heislooking at me. It really isn't chance, it's been too much for chance. He's
looking at me .
He'd stood out from the start, his the freshest male face among the Slaughterers, flawless and too young
for a beard, framed by a curly halo of gold-brown hair that was just long enough at the sides to form
short ringlets. A warrior, not a squire; he wore the wristlets. In the heat he'd taken off his shirt, and she'd
found herself all but unable to take her eyes off the line of his youthfully lanky but hard shoulders.
About a year before she'd suddenly found herself oddly fascinated with boys, although she'd found them
nothing but distasteful before; in a household where such things were spoken of freely, she'd soon learned
why. But in F'talezon, her origin known and herzight reckoned accordingly, she'd found precious few
friends, let alone opportunities to admire boys in any way but from afar. Such a handsome creature as
this would never so much as look at her, hard experience had taught, so she was resigned to casting
furtive, happy glances.
But now—hewas looking at her.
O mine Gott, she thought.Whaddoido ?
Blush. So it seemed, anyway; her face was determined to do that, burningly, she found, whether she
wanted it to or not. Not only her face, but her neck, too, and lower.
OmineGott what do I look like? Instantly, she was horribly aware that she hadn't brushed her hair
since before she d arrived here, the painful pimple beside her nose was the size of a thumbnail and
blood-red, her eyes were too close together, her ears too big, her chin too weak, and her arms and
shoulders too thick.What man would ever look at a woman built like a greathound ? Of course, the
thought crept into her head, Yeoli women could be fighters; their men must have nothing against muscular
curves. Her heart pounded like before a fight; but while that was a sick fear, this was shivery, sparkly.
Whaddoido? Act nonchalant, of course. Look everywhere but at him. The stars, the fire, the trees,
her left foot; everywhere her eyes looked, the place where he sat seemed to etch into her mind like an
ember, an ember with hawsers attached to her eyes, irresistibly pulling them towards him.I'll risk a
glance. Just one glance. Just a moment . She did. He was looking straight at her. Their gaze collided.
OmineGottmineGott, he saw, mineGott… Can he see me blush? Dear Gott let it be too dark in
the firelight .
Maybe, she thought,he's feeling all the same things I am. Could it be? Is it possible, outside a
dream? Naaaahhh, don't be a fool. Thane-brat . She glanced again; this time he smiled at her. Her
heart felt as if it would burst out through her ribs and fly into his lap, dripping.