The beads in my braids clicked together angrily as I aggressively stuck my hand in my pack and rummaged around. Sweat grew along the nape of my neck, and my body flushed in frustration and embarrassment.
What if I lost it?
Just as the panicked thought started, my fingers closed around the smooth stone, and I pulled my hand from the bag with a triumphant grin.
“Aha ha! I knew you were hiding in there, you little fucker.”
I controlled my language when I was around my daughter, but when I was off on a mission, it was a whole other story.
Shoving my pack to the foot of the bed, I crawled up next to it, crossing my legs under my body as I sat. Once comfortable, I brushed my braids back behind my shoulders and traced theoutlines of the rune on the stone. That motion would send a signal to the linked rune on Peytor’s stone, causing it to vibrate.
Hopefully he has it with him or within hearing distance.
I held the communication stone tightly and a small smile brushed my lips when I heard Peytor’s breathless voice come through the stone. It was quiet and somewhat tinny—an effect of the rune’s waning power. Soon, we would no longer be able to communicate, and I would have to return to Lishahl, information gathered or not.
“Hello? Fo?” Peytor panted into the stone, and my brow furrowed.
“Why are you out of breath?” My heart pattered erratically at the thought of Peytor maybe in a more intimate position with someone else. We had many attractive men and women in our rebel camp, and more than one had expressed interest in Peytor, even if he claimed to only have eyes for me.
“Hello to you, too, Fo. I miss you as well. Your daughter is fast, do you know that? We’ve been running all morning in the yard as part of training today and she keeps begging me to race her.”
My smile returned and split my face, the rarely used muscles aching with the motion.
“Oh. Yes, she does like to do that,” I admitted, chagrin filling my voice. “Oh, and hello, Peytor. I miss you, too.”
“I know you do.” I could hear Peytor’s grin through the stone.
“Is this a pleasure call or a business one?” he asked, and my blood heated slightly at the innuendo in his voice.
“I wish it was pleasure,” I admitted softly, and Peytor chuckled knowingly.
“You’ll be home soon, Fo, and we’ll make up for the lost time. I promise.”
I squirmed slightly as his words shot straight to the place between my thighs, and I cleared my throat before Peytor could lead us any further in that direction.
“I have news, I think.”
“Go ahead, I’m listening.”
I recounted the conversation I overheard, suddenly doubting its importance.
“It’s probably nothing,” I hedged, but Peytor cut me off with a noise.
“It’s not nothing, Folami. It sounds like they were talking about Rohak d’Alvey. And anything relating to him is important. Especially if he’s thinking of taking a Vessel. I’ve met him before and he was incredibly religious—seems that if he’s taking a Vessel, he either is being forced or there’s something else at play there. And the way those women were talking about Vessels and position at court is definitely information about Samyr that we didn’t have before.”
His praise warmed my cheeks and I bit my lip slightly.
“Thank you, Peytor.”
“Don’t thank me, it’s the truth. Are you safe there? Doing okay?”
I sighed. “I miss you. And Itanya. This whole place just feels . . . weird. How is training coming? How is Torin?”
I absently picked at the multicolored quilt as I waited for Peytor’s response.
“Torin is . . .” He paused, and I thought for a moment our connection ended. “Torin gave us new directives. We’re no longer training to conquer Vespera.”
I frowned, sudden anger igniting my blood.
