Page 11 of Warrior’s Mate

"I'm flexible."

They left the tower on foot.

The afternoon had warmed. Market awnings opened automatically to deepen the shade, and irrigation mist drifted across the nearest orchards. Wasaytu still looked ordinary enough to make Maelis feel foolish for the tension building between her shoulders.

Kaiven seemed to feel it too.

"Tell me something," he said as they crossed the canal bridge.

"That depends."

"Why do you dislike the Brigade?"

Maelis stopped.

"I don't."

"You hide it well."

"I dislike people who believe uniforms make local knowledge optional."

"That's more specific."

"My brother serves."

Kaiven's expression shifted. "Where?"

"Outer patrol. Third rotational group."

"Name?"

"Taren Torren."

Recognition flickered.

"Navigation officer?"

She stared at him. "You know him?"

"I've flown with him twice."

"And you're still alive?"

"Barely."

Maelis laughed before she could stop herself.

"He says the same about everyone else."

"That sounds like Taren."

The distance between them changed without either moving. Kaiven was no longer merely an officer assigned to her district. He had occupied a piece of her brother's life she had never seen, somewhere beyond Farseek, where patrol crews shared bad meals and risk and jokes that never made it into family messages.

"He hasn't been home in four months," she said.

"Outer rotations are running long."

"Why?"