I pass her one of the thick needles the Drakav use. It’s huge, but it’s also smooth and strong, perfectly shaped for punching through the fibers we’re using to stuff the mats.
I take my own needle and begin forcing the softened fiber into the mat in my lap. Soon, the only sounds are the soft rustling as we work, and the occasional whimper from one of the patients.
Traitorous as always, my eyes drift toward the gap in the woven partition.
I tell myself I’m just checking the perimeter. Just scanning for... atmospheric disturbances.
But my gaze goes straight to the corner of the main cavern.
He’s there.
Sarven sits in his usual spot, but he isn’t sharpening his blade. He’s hunched over a small piece of white bone, his massive frame curled around it like he’s protecting a secret.
His face is a mask of terrifying concentration. His brows are drawn down so low they almost obscure his eyes, and his lips are pulled back in a grimace that exposes the tips of his fangs. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was plotting the murder of a galaxy.
“He looks intense today.” Erika’s whisper makes me jump three feet. She pretends not to notice. “What is he doing? Making hollow-point death spikes?”
“He’s carving,” Jacqui says, pausing in her work to tilt her head, listening to the mindspace. “He’s projecting a lot of... well, ‘frustration’ isn’t the right word. It’s more like ‘creative aggression.’”
“He’s definitely making a weapon.” Erika’s eyes narrow in conclusion. “Look at his shoulders. That’s ‘I’m about to go hunt something’ tension.”
“No, it’s not,” I say automatically.
Erika and Jacqui both stop working. They look at me.
I keep my eyes on the needle in my hand, jamming it through the tough fiber of the mat. “He’s not making a weapon. When Sarven works on weaponry, his shoulders are asymmetrical. He braces the weapon against his left thigh, so his left deltoid engages, and he leans his weight back to test the edge. Right now, he’s hunched forward, shoulders even, elbows tucked in. It’s precision work. Not lethal work.”
Silence.
Complete, heavy silence.
I realize what I’ve said about three seconds too late. The heat starts at my collarbone and races up to my hairline.
Slowly, I lift my head.
Erika is staring at me with her mouth slightly open. Jacqui looks delighted. Even Tina has lowered her notebook to peer at me over the rim of her glasses.
“His… left deltoid?” Erika repeats slowly.
“I just noticed it before,” I lie, my voice rising an octave. “You know. Casual observation. Scientific method.”
“You noticed which specific shoulder muscle engages when he sharpens a spear?” Jacqui asks, a grin spreading across her face. “Mikaela. That is… detailed.”
“I trained Muay Thai for three years!” I protest, stabbing the needle into the mat a little too forcefully. “Body mechanics are important! Plus, science was my day job! I observe patterns. Like…like how Tharn’s footsteps are always completely silent, even when walking over loose stones that crunch under everyone else’s feet. Or how Kol scans the room left-to-right and never right-to-left.”
“Uh-huh,” Erika drawls, leaning back on her hands. “And please share with the class what data you’ve collected on Sarven’s glutes. Purely for peer review, of course.”
“I have not collected data on his glutes!” I lie. I have absolutely collected that data. It is extensive data. “I’m just saying that his posture suggests he is engaged in fine motor skills.”
“You notice his thighs, too?” Erika asks innocently. “Since you mentioned where he braces his elbow.”
“It’s a big thigh,” I snap, face burning. “It occupies a significant portion of the visual field. It’s statistically impossible to miss.”
Jacqui lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “You are digging this hole so deep we’re going to hit water. You know, if you really wanted to know what he’s doing, you could just ask him. He’s practically vibrating with the hope that you’ll look at him.”
“I am not asking him,” I mutter, focusing intently on a particularly tough knot in the fiber. “And I was not staring at his deltoids.”
“Right,” Erika says. “And I’m not noticing that Tharn is built like a rock wall.” She grins at Jacqui. “No offense, you picked a good one. But I’m notstudyinghim. There’s a difference.” Erika nudges my knee with her foot. “Go on, Professor. What’s your hypothesis? If it’s not a weapon, what is Sarven making? A tiny bone trophy of his enemies?”
