“I have, yes.”
“And you’re still not concerned?”
Catching the sound of a distant flutter, I look east, seeing a small, misty orb darting toward me. “It won’t hurt her,” I tell him, shoving my hand out like a perch.
A female sprite no taller than my index finger lands in the middle of my palm, pointy ears poking through her straight, white hair. With skin so pale it’s almost see-through, her inky eyes make a bold statement on her small face.
Opaline wings stick out from her back like tapered leaves, dusting my hand in powder as they flick about, then sink to garnish her gauzy dress.
She pulls a scroll from her chest holster and hands it to me, bouncing up and down, clapping her hands.
Baze snort-laughs from his spot perched against a tree in a muddy beam of light, swords resting against a rock before him. “You spoil them.”
I reach into the pocket of my cloak, retrieve a pale gem no larger than a pinhead, and hold it out.
The sprite makes a sharp trilling sound and snatches the gift so fast I can barely trace the movement. “Happy sprites make for reliable service,” I say, watching her dart off through the forest with her plunder. She’ll go straight to her den in a tree somewhere and grind that diamond down to dust, use it to coat her wings, then spend hours admiring her reflection in a pond somewhere.
“Anaggressiveservice. I got bitten the other day because all I had to offer was a nut.”
I drop my attention to the scroll, unraveling it. “I hardly see how that’smyfault.”
“They’re spoiled from your pocket diamonds. Anything important?”
“An update from the regiment. It was a hard winter, and they’re running low on game. I’m having them shift closer to Quoth Point.” I roll the scroll and pocket it. “They can make use of the old barracks there, and there’s plenty of fish in the ocean to keep them fed.”
Baze’s eyes widen. “Quoth Point?”
“It’s precautionary.”
“Precautionary ...” he mimics, drawing a deep breath and pushing it out fast.
I let the silence stretch while he digests. When he finally shoves off the trunk, his shoulders appear heavier. Even the smudges beneath his eyes look darker.
“Well, in that case, the Ebonwood was a wise choice,” he says, looking at the swords. “Speaking of which, I better get back.”
He retrieves both weapons and heads west, weaving between ancient trees that bear their shadows down around him.
“Baze?”
He pauses, regarding me over his shoulder, brow raised.
“Clean yourself up. You smell like a tavern.”
Get a handle on it before I end up scraping you off the masonry.
He lowers his eyes and nods, continuing toward the castle.
He’d never admit to it if I asked, but he relies onherjust as much as I do.
Iwake to thewhooshof my curtains being drawn.
Groaning, I pry an eye open, using my hand as a shield against the mottled beam of light, though I’m pitted with regret when the motion sends shards of pain lancing through my shoulder.
I feel like I’ve been trampled by a horse.
“It’s too early,” I mumble, watching Tanith flutter about, boasting a smile that looks like it was carved from a moonbeam.
“It’s past nine,” she chirps, dancing her feather-duster over my collection of painted stones with one hand and cranking a window open with the other. “Baze requested I wake you for train—”
