Chapter 10 #2
“Alright then. You win; you can have two of my old pairs of leathers. I was saving them for when Mia got tall enough for them, but that’s going to be quite a while.” Mia sticks her tongue out at her sister, and I huff out a laugh.
“And if you win?” I ask, stepping forward and taking the set of feathered darts from Tristan.
“My pick of anything from your trunk,” she says quickly, an eager sparkle in her eye. I blink in surprise, not having pictured Odessa as the type to want jewels and finery. But why not? I chide myself. Why shouldn’t she be able to like stabbing things and wearing gorgeous gowns?
“Done. You can go first.” I hide my smile as I gesture for her to go ahead.
She hikes a shoulder and steps up to the throwing line drawn in the muddy ground.
The drifts of snow were cleared for us to make camp by a Gifted with the ability to move things with his mind.
Now that is a Gift worth having in an army.
Odessa throws her darts, the red feathers flapping gently in the breeze when the points land just outside the smallest circle in the middle of the board.
“Impressive,” I tell her, giving her shots an appraising look. She gives me a cocky one back.
“Why is it even called quills?” Mia asks, playing with the feathers on another set of darts, these sky blue. “You throw darts, not quills.”
“When the game was first invented, the darts were made of basilisk quills,” I say as I step up to the line.
The legendary beasts had fans of quills around their throats that would stand on end when angry.
They fell off often, the way birds lose feathers or dragons lost scales, and people started using them in all manner of things because of their strength and durability, and, in the case of this game, their razor-sharp points.
Everyone goes silent and I glance around before throwing.
“I had tutors,” I remind them, which is technically true, but I learned this from Math.
He has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and knows the most random facts about pretty much everything.
I shift my body slightly and eye the target like I’ve done too many times to count at the tavern.
I take a deep breath and release my first dart.
Dead center of the smallest circle, the dart’s black feathers quivering.
I smile when I hear Tristan whistle behind me—and Odessa curse.
The second dart hits directly beside the first, and the third just below them both.
Whoops and cheers and cries of incredulity ring out from the small group, and I turn to find Odessa looking shocked and impressed and a touch disgruntled.
“How in the fucking hells does a spoiled princess like you know how to throw darts like that??”
“A castle can get very boring. I had to find ways to entertain myself. Now, about those trousers…”
“A deal is a deal!” Tristan calls, laughing as he jogs to the target to retrieve the darts.
“Yeah!” Mia echoes, clearly having fun. “A deal is a deal! Fetch the pantaloons!” she cries and then laughs herself silly. I snort, unable to help myself and wondering where in the hells she learned the word pantaloons. I don’t think anyone under the age of a hundred uses it anymore.
“Alright, alright, all of you shut it.” Odessa holds up a finger and walks the short distance to her tent, emerging a few moments later with two pairs of leather trousers. I nearly whimper when she hands them to me, the leather buttery soft and supple.
“You can still pick whatever you want from the trunk,” I tell her, hugging the trousers to my chest like they’re a newborn babe and precious to me. She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head in an I don’t think I’ll ever understand you gesture.
“Oh, I couldn’t…who am I kidding, yes I can and I most certainly will.” I laugh out loud at that and she smiles.
“A and C companies!” a man in full battle dress calls as he strides between the rows of tents. Odessa straightens. “Armed and ready in ten minutes!”
A few people from the group by the fire set down their cups and quickly disperse.
“What’s happening?” I ask quietly, watching people starting to move with organized urgency as the man continues to call out his message as he walks past us, spreading the word.
“Battle,” Odessa says matter-of-factly. No fear.
No apprehension. I wonder what that must be like?
To be trained to expect war and battle, to long for it even, based on the excitement in the eyes of some of the soldiers I see running past. Odessa tugs me out of the way and closer to the fire so I don’t get trampled.
“Battle??” I repeat, unbelieving. I know she and Blackheart both confirmed a war truly was happening, but I’ve still managed to keep it as an intangible, fictional thing inside my mind.
But now, hearing the commands being called, seeing men and women marching in dark armor with weapons strapped to their hips and backs, it is all very, very real.
“Nothing too bad,” Odessa adds, apparently seeing the worry on my face.
Though I know that I’m not going anywhere near this battle, my heart starts to race at the very idea of it, the thought that any of these people might not come back.
How far away is this threat? Who is it? Lyanna’s soldiers or one of the other kingdoms in the Alliance?
“If only A and C companies are going, it’s barely even a battle.
A skirmish, really. It might not even amount to anything at all.
Scouts most likely just saw some troops moving towards us and Blackheart likes to strike early. Not to worry.” I nod absently.
“You aren’t in A or C, are you?”
She gives me one of her sly smiles. “Would you be worried about me if I were?”
“Yes, you idiot,” I say plainly, not even caring to keep my Tesni pretense up. I like Odessa. I don’t want to think about her in battle. I know she’s strong and skilled and formidable, but I can’t picture her out there fighting. She blinks, her features softening a bit.
“Let’s get you back to your tent, alright?
Mia, go see if Colton needs help with packing up provisions.
” She nods and scurries off, ducking between the soldiers with ease.
Just as we start to walk, Tristan calls out for Odessa, asking her to help him find something or another.
She shakes her head in exasperation, but smiles.
“He would lose his own cock if it wasn’t attached to his body, I swear. ” I snort at that.
“I’m fine, I can make it back to my tent alone. You aren’t my prison guard anymore, remember?” She gives me a dry look but smiles and nods.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I walk back to my tent, trying to avoid the melee as much as possible and not get in the way. Blackheart is leaving his tent just as I arrive and my brow furrows.
“What?” he asks, striding towards me as he adjusts leather gauntlets that cover his wrists and forearms. He looks equal parts menacing, handsome, and almost regal in his full battle dress.
All black of course, but his armor shimmers faintly, like oil, and a silver dragon is engraved across his chest plate.
His hair is pulled back from his face, his sword strapped across his back, the hilt peeking over his right shoulder.
He looks even taller somehow, more muscled, and I think if I saw him riding towards me across a battle field I might just shit my newly won trousers. No wonder he’s such a feared warrior.
“I didn’t think you’d actually go into battle. Don’t Commanders usually stay back where it’s safe?”
His lips curl, excitement sparking his blue-gray eyes. He stops just beside me and leans down. I suck in a sharp breath. Having him so close is…disconcerting. And intense. And horrible. And that last one might be a lie.
“I’m no ordinary Commander,” he whispers conspiratorially, as if he’s letting me in on a big secret. He straightens, an actual smile spreading across his face. Makers, the man is practically giddy. “We’ll remain here for another few days. You’re smart enough not to try to escape, aren’t you?”
“I don’t care to starve to death in The Perilous or get eaten by a beast of some sort, so, yes, I will remain here within the safety of the camp.” For now.
“Good answer, Red. But there is the matter of your Gift…” And now it hits me: he’ll be gone from the camp.
My Gift won’t be blocked anymore…so of course he won’t allow that to happen.
“One of the lieutenants will be along shortly to collar you. Do not do anything you’ll regret.
” I take his warning and nod easily enough.
I have no plans to try to run yet so there would be no reason for me to harm whoever comes to put the damned collar on me.
He strides off and the words bubble up from my throat before I can stop them or even think about what in the hells I’m doing.
“Be safe.”
He stops and glances at me over his shoulder, eyeing me suspiciously.
I could say something scathing like I seem to be getting the opposite of what I wish for lately, so by wishing him safety, I’m ensuring his demise, but I find that I don’t want to.
I do actually want him to be safe, to return to the camp breathing and whole and—Makers, I'm a fucking idiot.
I just quirk a brow in challenge and walk inside my tent, but I swear I catch him grinning before I do.
On the fourth day, they return from battle.
There’s a frenzy of activity when they ride back, and my stomach twists when I see some of the soldiers being carried on canvas stretchers, blood-soaked cloths wrapped around wounds.
They rush them to what I’ve learned is the medical tent, run by Copeland and a few other healers—the regular kind, not the Gifted kind.
“Why doesn’t Copeland go with them? Heal everyone as they’re injured on the field?” I ask Odessa and Tristan, and a few others who have decided to tolerate me being included in their group: Kendall, Jonathan, and Lucinda.