A dark lock breezes across his face. The rest is tied in a knot at the base of his skull. He tucks it behind a pointed ear and gets to work, helping me with the blades.
Callum lifts them like they’re feathers, while the weight of the metal has sweat dripping down my back by the time we’re done moving them from the sled to the table. I do my best not to let it show.
“Do you think the next storm will hold out until this evening?” I ask, shielding my eyes from the icy flakes drifting through the wind as I look up at the gray sky.
“Doubtful. I suspect this break won’t last through the afternoon.” Callum follows my gaze, frowning.
I shift on my feet. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
It’s words like that he really needs to stop saying. They make my knees wobble and my belly flutter.
“Remember what we talked about when you walked me home…” I scan the crowd, but no one is close enough to hear me. “The rebels.”
He nods.
“I thought I saw something last night.”
“In the village?”
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “There was a figure wearing all white standing on the street. The Guard never wears white.”
He shakes his head. “Could it have been someone wandering home?”
“A human in the blizzard?” I quirk an eyebrow. “No. Besides, the ears.”
Callum’s back stiffens as he stands up tall. His fingers tense on the hilt of his sword.
“I didn’t get a good look at him, so I might have been imagining things. It was a long day and a longer night preparing the pyre. And when the rebel started to turn my way, I ducked?—”
“They saw you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good.” He scans the square like he’s looking for something, but he’s the only guard here. “That’s good. Tonight, I want you to hang something over the windows.”
“That won’t stop them if they want to get in.”
“If they wanted to get in, they would have. They’re looking for something.”
“Well, that makes it easy. They’re not going to find anything but grain and humans at Father’s house.”
Callum opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but a loud clash of metal around the corner cuts him off. Commotionat the entry to the square draws our attention, and shouts are followed by metal striking metal.
“What was that?” I scan the panicked crowd as Callum draws his sword. “Callum?”
I take a step toward the noise, and his free hand grabs my arm. “Not that way.”
“What are you hearing? What’s happening?”
“Elorie.” He steps in front of me, panic flooding his expression. “I need you to get home now. Take the back alley.”
“But the market?—”
Callum shakes his head, worry blooming in his gray eyes. “Just this once, don’t fight me on this. Don’t argue. Get home. Cover the windows. Lock the door. And whatever you do, don’t open it.”
My heart feels like those hummingbird wings Callum always talks about. Hot puffs of breath fill the cold space between us. I can’t leave him here, armor or not. Capable or not. Callum is walking into danger.
