“Puppy,” she snapped, heat prickling up to her scalp. “That’s what he called me. But never in formal situations. That’s something that we’ll definitely have to work on. I’m sure you don’t know the first thing about etiquette at court.”
Kaelan’s mouth worked, obviously attempting to suppress a smile. “Why did he call you that?”
“Once I followed him and his friends, Damion among them, down to a stream where they were going to try to lure out the wishing fish with caddy limericks. One of his friends, a little shit named Zuriel, made some remark about Caden’s loyal new puppy, who was tailing them everywhere. He wanted to know how the training was going. I marched right up to him and punched him in the face. Broke his nose. I told him I was no one’s puppy and the only one who required training was him. And if he said something like that again, I would have the kennel master put him in with the hounds until he got it straight. Cae laughed so hard, he cried. Later, he started calling me puppy in fun, to make us both laugh. Because even though I did follow him around like a puppy, we both knew that in the end, it would be him following me. The name just stuck.”
The bags were fairly full. She topped them off with more coin and then buckled them.
She stepped up to the armor on the form at the head of her mother’s tomb. Tempted as she was, she couldn’t take it. Each bronze scale was emblazoned with her mother’s symbol—a silver star. Turning, she spied another trunk, tucked back in the corner. Moving aside a shield, she flipped open the trunk.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She ran her fingers over the battered and dark-with-age breastplate. Her mother’s training gear. Simple and tattered, but it would serve.
Setting down the saddlebags, she lifted the breastplate. Underneath were pauldrons, greaves, and an assortment of weapons, including a coil of thin, shimmery green gorgon rope.
“Come help me,” she said.
He stepped up, slipping by the form and the various vases and tables and offerings without disturbing them.
Dropping the breast and back piece over her head, she held up her arms so he could see the buckles. Squatting, he began to fasten them.
“Is all of this necessary?” he asked. “Stealing from your mother’s grave, the armor?”
“Yes.”
He looked up at her. A flash of heat lanced through her. Before she could determine whether it had come from him or was merely her Rae instinct, or perhaps the memory of his desire while under Eris’s spell, he dropped his eyes and the heat faded.
“Tell me everything you remember about Cae,” he said, tugging the straps snug before fastening them. He stood, smirking. “Puppy.”
BY THE TIME THEY MET GURin the cave, the silver rain of the seafront curtained the entrance. Gur opened one sleepy eye when they emerged, but closed it quickly. Hero, curled on top of Gur’s head, didn’t even do that much.
She lowered the saddlebags to the ground and shrugged the coil of gorgon rope off her shoulder, letting it fall next to the bags. “Looks like we’re spending the night.”
Kaelan dug into his pack and then tossed her an apple.
“Thanks,” she said as she slumped down to the ground.
He opened up the water gourd and gave it a shake. “How much rain water do you think I can catch?”
“Good luck with that. Just don’t slip,” she said, crunching into the apple.
He edged by Gur, who flicked his tail, but gave no other sign of being disturbed. Once on the other side of the snoozing semargl’s considerable bulk, Kaelan disappeared from view.
Dropping her head back, Magda shifted in the armor. Well-worn and flexible as the scales were, the weight would take some getting used to again. All of this was taking some getting used to.
Spending the afternoon recounting her every memory of Cae had left her raw and tired. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to think about him. She’d taught herself early on not to dwell on the past, or the dead. Better to let it go, forget about it, move on. There was too much pain in such memories to do anyone any good.
She gazed blankly at the cave wall, where the murals were faded to all but a few flecks of paint. And then shadows began to close together, thickening, coalescing, swirling.
Before she could warn Kaelan, Endreas was there, leaning against the wall, dark eyes fixed on her.
“Endreas,” she said loudly enough that she hoped Kaelan could hear over the white noise of rain and ocean waves.
“You look rather morose,” he said.
She laid the half-eaten apple on the saddlebags. “How should I look?”
He lowered into a crouch, knitting his fingers together before him. “I’m sorry, Magpie.”
