I sat down in the chair by the fire, where a low blaze was already crackling. The heat helped. A little.
I picked at the torn edge of my dress, the fabric singed and dirt-streaked from earlier, then turned my eyes to the flames.
Slade sat on the bed, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
I could feel him staring. Finally, I glanced over.
“What?” I muttered. “Go on. I know you have something to say, grumpy bear. Let’s hear it.”
“I’m still waiting on an explanation,” he said. Calm. Not angry. Not yet.
Justwaiting.
“I don’t enjoy spectacles,” I said finally. “And that’s all that was.”
“You don’t always have to run,” he said.
“Running is easier. I have a lot of practise at it.”
“I know.” Slade said.
I slumped back. “The queen and I had a discussion. About me joining the army.”
Slade blinked. It wasn’t what he expected—but it didn’t surprise him either.
“You want to fight?”
“I want tomove,” I said. “To be active. To stop… stagnating.”
I looked at the fire, then back at him.
“I can’t sit still anymore, Slade.”
“You could be right,” he said finally. I looked at him, surprised.
“What?”
“Joining the fight. Maybe it’s something we all need.”
I stared at him. “You actually agree with me?”
He gave the faintest shrug. “Stranger things have happened.”
“I suppose,” I replied, a little wry.
Slade kicked off his boots and sat back like the matter was settled.
“We’ll start training again tomorrow. I’ll volunteer, and you can join the regiment.”
“Just like that?”
He glanced at me, brow raised. “You were expecting a fight?”
“Always.”
He shrugged. “I don’t feel like it tonight. Fighting’s good though. Visceral. Practically therapy.”
I tilted my head. “You think I need therapy?”
