“I’ve been lucky so far.” Kai smiles as if trying to lighten the mood. “All the boys are strong. I think Aeric could have given you a run for your money.”
Fox snorts a laugh, and glances over at Kai’s youngest son—the toddler, wielding the knife. “He’ll have to show me in the morning.”
Kai looks thrilled. “Will you help with the training?”
Fox shrugs, nodding, but before he can answer further, a figure appears in front of our table, blocking the light from the enormous fire.
I glance up and find a blonde woman standing in front of us. Physically, she’s the opposite of me in nearly every way. She’s tall and athletic, while I’ve always been small and slight. She’s pale with blonde hair and light eyes, while I take after my Solistinian mother, and have always been tan, even in the winter, with dark hair and eyes. I can’t help but notice that she’s extremely pretty.
Fox follows my gaze, looking up at the woman. His shoulders stiffen. “Runa.”
She tilts her head, one eyebrow arching. Fox’s jaw tightens. A silent conversation passes between them in the space of a heartbeat.
“Runa,” Fox says again, his voice rougher than before. This time her name sounds more like a warning than a greeting. His thigh presses against mine under the table and his arm brushes mine as he reaches for his cup.
“Sorry,” Runa says out loud, her tone and expression unreadable as she flicks her gaze to me. She extends a hand as if to shake mine. “I’m Runa. And you are?”
She doesn’t seem threatening or even aggressive, but before I can lift my hand to take hers, Fox grabs my fingers tightly, holding my hand under the table.
Runa stands there for an awkward moment, hand outstretched, as I fight with the paralyzing discomfort of openly ignoring her. I would never usually be so rude, but with Fox nearly crushing my fingers beneath the table, it’s obvious that there’s some social convention being broken here and to react at all could be disastrous.
After another long second, Runa lowers her hand. She looks over at Kai, seeming to communicate silently, then turns her back and leaves. I watch her walk back across the fire and sit down on one of the logs surrounded by a large group of women.
Fox lets out a breath which sounds more exhausted than relieved, and finally releases my fingers under the table.
I’m not sure how late it is when Fox and I finally return to the tent, but the darkness and the silence of the camp makes it feel like midnight.
There aren’t many lanterns guiding our way, and I have to squint to avoid stumbling or walking into the wrong tent. Along the way, Fox points me toward a row of smaller tents which turn out to be outhouses. Perhaps due to the darkness, they’re not as horrible as I feared they would be, but I don’t notice any bathing facilities. The soldiers must be bathing somewhere, or else it would surely smell far worse than it does. I suppose I can go one more day without a bath, but after that I’m going to have to ask someone.
The moment we step into the tent, I raise a hand and automatically light the lantern on the table. Fox hisses an angry sound, and I roll my eyes, wiggling my fingers again to cast the muffling spell.
In a split second, Fox crosses the tent and is standing right in front of me. He grips my arm and shoves it down. With a pointed glare, he raises both hands, as if to say:“Wait.”
I nod to show I understand, and Fox looks around the tent with obvious frustration. Evidently he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, because again he holds up a hand for me to wait, then leaves the tent in a huff.
“Eugene?” I hiss the moment Fox is gone. “Eugene?”
The squirrel doesn’t appear. He must have left the tent to get some exercise. I would be worried, except that Eugene has made it extremely clear that he has no interest in living in the forest. He’ll be back.
Fox returns several minutes later with several rolls of parchment paper clutched in one hand and a quill pen in the other. He lays the scrolls out on the small wooden table, and bends to scribble something, before holding the scroll up for me to read by the light of the lantern.
No magic. No talking.
I scowl as he hands me the pen.
This is stupid
Fox rolls his eyes and refuses to take the pen when I try to hand it to him. Sighing, I scribble:
I can’t talk to you like this
It must be difficult for you to be quiet for once
Asshole
The corners of his mouth tip up.
Who’s Eugene?
