Aleksandra woke as Aulfr was pulling on his shirt. She took her time in actually getting up, stretching and running her fingers through the knots in her hair. She watched the tanned, muscular skin of Aulfr's back disappear beneath the preposterous blue tunic that made him look silly. He belonged in armor and leather, not court dress. She almost told him as much, but what would that really accomplish? Her feeling foolish, is what. So she vetoed that idea and sat up, giving one last cat-like stretch.

She turned and glared at Aulfr, his question more an insult to her than anything else. "I slept like a child, truly." She got on her hands and knees and leaned forward, purposely giving him a wonderful view down her low-cut tunic. She made her voice a bit lower, the Ardanian purr more pronounced. "And after you woke me and went back to sleep, it looked as if you were having the most wonderful dream, if the sizable bulge in your trousers was anything to go off of." She pulled away then, acting very suddenly innocent. With her back turned, she let herself grin.

She pulled the ribbon from her hair and stood up, winding it around her wrist. "What's the plan for today? Are you actually going to feed me, or do I have to repeat last night's debacle and steal some poor servant's meat pies?" She grabbed her other set of clothing and changed into it quickly. She never really felt safe changing in front of any man, but she knew that Aulfr would most likely make his intentions clear first if he meant to bed her. She pulled on the new tunic, this one a deep black, the ribbons tying the back closed silver. The trousers were almost the same shade as the ribbons, and the scarf-skirt was a gentle blue that made her eyes all the more intense.

She wondered exactly what would happen now that he knew she was the Fourth Devil. Death's Handmaid. He hadn't killed her in her sleep, so he obviously felt differently about her job than his father. There was a bounty of 1,000 coins on her head for anyone strong enough and clever enough to capture her alive. No one had ever seen her face, known exactly who she was, and lived to tell the tale. Would he return her mask? Her daggers? And what about Caego? No smart man would willingly give up a horse like that, even if it never let him ride it.