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She waited.

I let her wait until she looked up at me.

"You laugh differently when you forget to be careful."

Her steps slowed, then stopped entirely.

She didn't look at me right away. For several seconds she just stood there on the trail, water still dripping from the end of her braid, working through whatever the sentence had actually meant before she let herself react to it.

When she finally looked up, the guarded look was there, not fully closed, just present, the same careful weighing I'd watched her do a hundred times before deciding whether something was safe to let land.

She didn't deny it.

That was enough for today. I wasn't in any hurry to ask for more than she was ready to give, and I had every intention of still being here whenever she was.

Neither of us mentioned that we had spent most of the patrol doing nothing useful at all.

Chapter Ten: Where the Water Breathes

Corian

Jade had returned from the western patrol the previous morning soaked to the skin, with sets of muddy paw prints across her shirt and no explanation she considered relevant.

I waited until breakfast to ask again.

"They were Kelvarin," she said, holding her cup close enough for the steam to warm her face. Ashter had left the shelter of her sleeve to gather around the mug, his smoke threading through the vapor before the damp air drove him back around her wrist. "They were healthy. Nothing happened."

"You and Halver returned an hour and forty-one minutes late."

Her eyes lifted over the cup. "You counted?"

"I was observing."

"With your boots off?"

Her fingers stopped against the cup. "He told you."

"You left them beside the drying line. And there were paw prints on your back."

"One of them climbed me. During the observation."

I let the silence remain until she looked at me again. "Did you enjoy it?"

She examined my face as if searching for the part she needed to defend against, but there was nothing behind the words except curiosity.

Her gaze dropped to the steam. "Yes."

It was a small answer, but it felt more significant than most of the reports I had received that week.

Dannian had brewed the tea strong enough to strip varnish, and Jade took another determined mouthful before grimacing. "Is this what all field tea tastes like?"

"Only when Dannian makes it. He believes suffering builds character."

"What does good tea taste like, then?"

"Tea."

"That is specific."