Page 82 of The Turncoat King
When she asked what patterns and motifs the Cervantes used, one of the woman shook her head.
“I was taken when I was twelve and put into a Chosen camp, so I don’t know as much as I should.” She sounded more subdued than she had before, and Ava didn’t like to think her question had caused pain.
“After this battle, will you be able to find your family again?”
“I found them already. The Commander gave us all time to reunite before we joined the Rising Wave. My grandmother had passed while I was interned.” She fingered the jacket she wore, as if it reminded her of her grandmother. “Perhaps my parents know, but they’re protecting my brother and sister while we fight.”
“Kali will know.” The soldier’s companion slid an arm around her shoulder in comfort. “She’s one of the traders. She sells clothes with Cervantes patterns on them, but I think she’s running low on her stock, and she doesn’t make them herself.”
“I’ll find her tomorrow and ask.” Ava knitted a few more rows, and tried to keep her mind from thinking of the tragedy of what had happened to the Cervantes. She didn’t want to imbue anything like that into her work.
This was to protect Luc. To keep him safe.
She focused on strength and agility, on heightened senses and an impenetrable barrier.
“Are you up for another sparring session?” The question was from the soldier who had first admired her cable knitting. There was a hint of humor in his voice.
“Who with?” She flashed him a grin, pleased the conversation had turned to less serious things. “You?”
The others immediately began teasing him.
“Are you going to take on the Commander’s lady?” One of them hooted. “Brave man!”
Ava laughed. “It doesn’t matter who’s lady I am.” She put her knitting aside. “What happens in the ring, stays in the ring.”
“Until the Commander comes in and carries you off.” The woman who’d spoken about her grandmother said, a smug smile on her face.
“Ah. I can’t help it if he’s overcome by the sight of me fighting.” She was glad she’d had more than a month of teasing with the Venyatux. She knew how this worked now. And she loved it.
The young soldier whooped at her response. “I’ve heard his sword is enspelled. Magical.”
Ava had the sense he wasn’t talking about Luc’s actual sword.
“Yes. Can you confirm that for us?” The woman leaned closer to Ava and winked.
Oh!
Ava started to giggle. “I don’t think I should . . .” She couldn’t get the words out, she was laughing too hard, and the soldiers around her roared in appreciation.
“I think that’s enough speculation about my sword.” Luc’s arms were suddenly around her, lifting her from her seat.
The soldiers were silent for a beat, and then burst out laughing again as Luc carried her the short distance to the tent.
He lifted his hand to make a gesture Ava couldn’t see, and the laughter intensified.
“It’s good to hear everyone laugh.” Luc murmured into her ear, his lips brushing her skin. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”
“There hasn’t been enough of that, in ours lives, or theirs.”
He set her on her feet once they were behind the canvas curtain that created his private space.
“Wait.” She held up a hand as he reached for the buttons on her jacket.
She pulled the thread from her pocket and walked to the canvas.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure no one can hear anything that happens behind this curtain.”
