The morning was thin with light when I finished the last of the beast cores.
The residue of their energy still buzzed in my veins warm, like molten iron ready to be forged.
I wiped my palms on my robes, went to the bathroom and rinsed quickly, then dressed in the loose, flexible set I always wore when I passed as Micah.
The bindings at my chest and the cut of the trousers flattened the shape of me into something easily read as male by the careless eyes that filled this sect.
I tied my hair up tight; the knot was a crown of practicality with no frills.
My reflection in the mirror gave me a handsome young man's silhouette but only because I didn't smile and usually kept my expression neutral.
It was ridiculous, sometimes, how the disguise worked. But the men here was gullible in their assumptions.
Men didn't expect a woman to move like an efficient warrior. They didn't expect a woman to be dangerous at all.
But they would learn, I would let them.
