Page 121 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Right.”

“So.”

“Yeah.”

I cleared my throat, lunged past her, swiped the cup, and absconded through the shadows to stand in front of the board. I’d already chugged the last of it by the time she caught up and scowled at me.

I rolled my eyes when the humor left hers. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Worry about you? Girl, we’ve been worried.”

“Don’t be.”

“You’re not responding to calls.”

“A little busy.”

“Dad says you’ve missed the last two delegation meetings.”

“Again, busy.”

“Freya. Look at me.”

Steeling myself for the disapproval I knew I’d find, I forced myself to look. I’d never had a friend like Tessa. Not in any life—outside of Saoirse, and that had been centuries ago. Truth was, she and Carr were the only souls keeping me from feeling completely alone in this shit show.

Carrson fucking Landry. Go figure.

“Are you okay? And don’t give me some perfunctory bullshit answer.”

I blinked. Was I okay? I was so far from okay I couldn’t even see the border anymore. “I’m not sure what answer you’re looking for, T.”

“The honest one.”

I resumed pacing and kept at it as the silence thickened. But Tessa was no greenhorn. She’d grown up under Marcus Westerlund’s rules and his talent for politicking, with a brother just as fond of wielding words as I was of wielding blades. Marcus and Eloise were doing everything in their power to keep our people safe and accounted for in Aren’s stead, including casting the illusions shielding our safe houses.

Which meant the beautiful, stupidly smart warrior lounging against my murder wall could stand in silence until it shattered. Years under Marcus had taught her the power of stoicism.

“I’m fine, T.”

“You don’t look fine. I mean, the… shaggy… pixie cut thing you’ve got going on is fire, but the rest of it…” She made an eraser motion over my entire face.

“Gee thanks, I’ll just fling myself into a demon hoard.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m a hideous creature you can’t stand to gaze upon.”

“You’re a tired creature, and a devious little liar.”

“I’ve never lied to you,” I said, but the words lost their edge as I realized few things terrified me more than disappointing this woman. Anger followed fast because I was not prepared for that particular vulnerability.

“You just did about ten seconds ago, smartass.”

“What?”

“You said you’re fine. You’re not fine. You’re balanced on a tightrope, you’re exhausted, and, frankly, you look a bit strung out.”

“Again, with the compliments.”