Page 154 of Harbinger

He’s going to be the death of me. “Do you coddle all your conscripts this much?”

He nearly smiles. “No, but they’re better at taking orders.”

I stare him down.

“Okay.” He rolls his eyes. “Maybe the trick is that I can order them at all. I’m still trying to figure out how to get you to do a starsdamned thing I ask of you.”

I bite back a laugh that threatens to bubble out of me from nowhere. “You could start with please.”

“Please?” He snorts, shaking his head. “You would never be that easy on me.”

I shrug and reach for my sword, but he holds it back. “I can put it away,” I say. “Isn’t that one of your very important rules? Put shit back?”

“I’ll do it.” Our eyes lock, and something tangles in my chest. Fuck, this man can see right through me. But he looks away with a smirk, that invisible armor back in place. “I can’t have your arms falling off.”

I play along and give him the middle finger before reaching down for the pack I brought with me. Maybe it’s safer to stick to this. To keep retreating to our sides of the line. To deliver these half-barbed taunts.

I’m trying to survive, after all.

Despite Bishop’s insistence that I need to hit the baths, all I want is a cold shower as I track down the mountainside. To wash the grime off … and for other reasons.

But I stop at the Bellatorum. The pack on my shoulders feels heavier as I step into the Commons, but I force myself to walk into the closest communal room. This is part of it. Part of letting him go. Setting the bag on a table, I reach in for the items weighing me down. My body screams as I lift the stack of clothes, but it’s not the kind of pain the baths could touch.

“He can’t use them anymore,” I mutter under my breath, but the reminder doesn’t help.

I place Kieren’s folded clothes on the table anyway, leaving his boots sitting next to them. A boy not much older than Andry eyes them as I turn away quickly.

I don’t wait to see if he takes anything.

I’m so preoccupied as I leave, I don’t hear my name being called until Shea grabs my shoulder. I tense instinctively, hands curling to fists, and she leaps back. “Sorry!” She gives me a nervous smile. She’s out of uniform today, but there’s a faint crease between her eyebrows like she’s been carrying a thought too long. “I just wanted to catch you and thank you for those books you gave my brother.” She glances over my shoulder. “Are you training today?”

“Um, no.” I can’t hide my surprise. How does she know about that? Isn’t the whole point of him dragging my ass halfway up the mountain so we can have privacy?

“Oh.” Her face falls a little. “Well, if you ever need someone to practice with …”

I have half a mind to take her up on the offer, but then I remember Bishop’s threat. “I was training, but only for an hour,” I confess. “Lord Grumpiness commands I rest.”

“It went that badly, huh?” Her laugh is infectious.

“I think my last slice almost cut his dick off, so …”

“That would be a tragedy.” Shea cackles, then winces like she’s trying not to laugh too loudly. “But I’ll keep my condolences ready.”

Not as tragic as him never using the damn thing.

I offer a shared grin, but when I shift my weight, the movement sends a warning twinge up my calf.

Shea notices. “Are you okay?”

“I know I’m supposed to act tough.” I sigh, glancing around to make sure no one is listening to us. “But everything hurts, and I think I’m dying.”

She laughs. “You could go to—”

I hold up a hand to stop her before she says baths. “I’m just going to pass out in bed, wake up, and probably help Lenora prep for Twelvetide.”

Maybe keep digging at that stubborn stump in the garden before guests start arriving in a few days.

But even as I say it, a flicker of panic hits me. Resting. Cooking. I need to be doing more than that.