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Downstairs, the Great Hall is abuzz with activity. The stronghold servant girls are already set up at their usual table, braiding the warriors’ hair and applying the charcoal war paint. When I sit, Lorna immediately leaves what she’s doing to attend to me, but Rina stiffens, her gaze sharpening with raptor-like intensity on the woman.
Lorna misses nothing. “My a’deve,” she says, dipping her head. “Perhaps you could work on the deve’s hair, and then I can show you how to apply the paint for next time.” Handing over the strips of leather and a comb, the woman makes a hasty retreat.
Rina’s little harrumph forces me to stifle a chuckle. “Do I need to take that blade away from you already?”
Her head swings in my direction and she pins me with a look of such possession that my exhausted cock twitches. She ignores my taunt, though, and instead demands, “You want your hair braided?”
“I do.” Though I have no idea if she’s capable of the somewhat intricate braids that keep a warrior’s hair close to his scalp, I tip my head at another warrior whose hair resembles what I want.
Eldon arrives, obviously displeased. “Fucking savages,” he mutters. “They have no respect for my beauty sleep.”
Trying not to grimace as Rina tugs roughly at my hair with the comb, I welcome Eldon’s daughter Trudy onto my lap. “Uncle,” she says. “You’re going to kill savages?”
“I am.”
“Will you tell me again about the Wolf warriors that are girls?” Trudy is fascinated by the existence of the Wolf Realm female warriors. She’s more open-minded than I am. Despite knowing it’s my father’s disdain for them that influences my attitude, I’m not sure what I’ll do when a woman shows interest in becoming a warrior here in our own realm.
“Maybe next time,” I tell her. “Don’t you have duties to attend to?”
“Oh, yes!” She jumps down and scampers away as if she’s just remembered.
I don’t know who started the tradition, but the youngest daughters of the warriors paint a mark on each warrior’s palm when his hair and face paint are complete. It usually resembles a squiggly line, but it’s meant to represent the long body of a mountain lion.
While Rina finishes my hair, Eldon and I go over a few things. As usual, he’ll remain behind and in command while I’m gone. I’m not worried. He knows what he’s doing. Though it’s usually done in reverse – the second takes control of the men in battle and the deve stays behind – Eldon has a family to care for, and I . . . I can’t imagine staying behind. Battle is what I was born to do.
Lorna arrives back with a pot of charcoal paint and shows Rina how to apply the vertical lines that bisect the left eye from brow to lip, explaining the thickness of the main line denotes rank.
“Sounds like a cock-measuring contest to me,” Rina announces, making Lorna burst into peals of laughter.
“That’s exactly what it is. And it’s good for them.” She runs the horse-hair paint brush down my face with a steady hand. “It keeps them striving to do more and be more, so they can wear their lines proudly into battle.”
I only grunt at her assessment, which is pretty accurate. Earning my lines certainly motivated me as a younger man. I watch as she trades brushes to continue painting the three thinner lines that will run parallel, each one closer to my ear than the last. As she’s finishing, Noé shows up and throws himself on the bench beside me like an overly dramatic adolescent. “You’re set on only taking half of the Range? There’s been a ton of bitching.”
“Anything that needs my attention?”
“Nah,” he grumbles. “Sometimes I feel more like a den mother than a commander though.”
I laugh. And everyone in the vicinity turns to stare, but I ignore them and clap Noé on the shoulder. “Now you know exactly how I felt when I was Commander.”
“Uncle?” interrupts us. “Are you ready for your lion?” Trudy is holding a small clay pot in one hand and a thin brush in the other.
“I am,” I tell her, holding out my palm.
Setting the pot on the table, she dips the brush, and with a firm grip on my thumb, she applies the line with a flourish. “Now you will have the best of luck, Uncle!” Then she turns to Rina. “Would you like one too, for fun?”
Rina lets out an exaggerated gasp, much to Trudy’s delight. “I would love one, thank you.”
With another dip of the brush, Trudy gives Rina a mountain lion on her palm. I don’t think Trudy realizes how much her small gesture means to Rina, who’s staring at her hand with a lot more emotion than is called for.
“Oh, Trudy,” I call. “I need another one on my other hand. I need a raven.”
“A raven?! But I don’t know how to draw a raven.”
I sense Rina’s regard, but I keep mine on Trudy. “Well, imagine a bird in the sky. How would you draw that?”
The little girl bites at her lip. “Like this?” She dips the brush and makes what appears to be two hills on my hand. They’re wings.
“Yes!” I kiss her on the cheek. “Exactly. You’re my favorite niece.”
