Page 26 of Beds and Blades

The sounds from the eastern wall had changed. Quieter. The disciplined rhythm of the assault breaking up, the front lines losing coherence, the commanders withdrawing their attention, and with it the direction that had been holding the force together. The assault was ending. The feint had been identified and countered. Morvanna’s forces were smart enough to know when to stop.

Skip’s men stood in the courtyard with the stillness of people who had just been through something and were taking a moment to confirm they were still in one piece. The ground was dark with it. Nobody spoke for a few seconds, which felt correct.

Then Skip pulled off his helmet. He was standing ten feet away, breathing hard beneath the torchlight.

I had originally concluded that Skip was attractive because of the obvious things.

Then I had watched him work.

Command a defense. Recognize a threat. Move toward it without hesitation. Kill it.

The physical attributes remained impressive. They no longer felt like the entire explanation.

Watching him move through the fight, I realized that combat was a craft, and he had mastered it.

He walked toward me. With purpose. The way he did everything. “You saved this outpost,” he said.

“I pointed out a pattern.”

“You saw what we did not.”

His voice was rougher than usual. Fatigue. Adrenaline. Something else.

“You saw it. You acted. And because you did, my people are still alive.”

For a moment, he only stared at me. Hunger stripped every trace of command from his face. Then he crossed the space between us.

“You are an extraordinary woman.”

I had several responses prepared. A deflection involving pattern recognition and the distinction between intelligence and decisive action. Perhaps a reference to Alexander at Tyre, which was technically where the credit belonged. A modest acknowledgment that I had simply identified what the data suggested and that any—

He kissed me.

His hand rose to my face with authority. The same authority those hands had possessed when he lifted me from the horse.

The rasp of his stubble was exactly as I’d imagined, the warmth of him too—and still, my imagination hadn’t come close to this reality.

The world narrowed to a single point.

I forgot where I was.

I forgot the blood in the courtyard and the war beyond the walls.

I was focused only on the warmth of his lips and the touch of his hand against my face.

Chapter six

Infirmary

Ilingered in the courtyard for approximately five seconds after he pulled back.

Long enough to understand what had just happened. Long enough to understand that it was not a misunderstanding, a stress response, or an unusually vivid concussion symptom.

Long enough to understand that my body had formed several very strong opinions about it.

The fortress, inconsiderately, continued existing around us. Soldiers were hauling bodies. Officers were gathering reports. Somewhere nearby, someone was shouting for more bandages. The courtyard smelled of blood and torch smoke.

Skip looked at me.