Page 32 of Forcing Fate

“Not quite, though the men have teased about him eating too much lately.”

“The men teased him?” My hand covered my heart in mock horror.

“Oh, they wouldn’t dare say it to his face. However, I have the sinking feeling a certain young woman might say something like that.”

I grinned and shrugged, batting my lashes. Willhelm’s humored spirit settled some of the anxiety clawing into my chest. I let out a contented breath. This morning was turning out just fine.

“Shall we?” I asked, gesturing to the road.

His smile faltered. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Is one ever ready to face an angry viper?”

Willhelm gave me a slight nod as he conceded. He seemed to accept the fact that I knew the General was no more than a dangerous animal.

We walked in companionable silence to a different training field, one I had never been to before. It was littered with multiple obstacles and walls, low fences, nets hanging in the air between poles, and mud—lots of mud.

As we neared the soldiers standing at attention, Willhelm cleared his throat. “This is a physical training field. I forewarn you, the men will stay in a state of dress only because of your presence. If the General prods them, they may strip their tunics.”

I offered a faint nod and stiffened as General Rafe rounded the corner. He wore a tunic, yet had one bunched in his fist. A black swath of fabric concealed his missing eye, but it did nothing to lessen the ferocity of his anger when he spotted me. His fierce gaze narrowed, sealing my fate as he stormed over.

“Sergeant! Dismissed!” His tone cut through any mirth and rang with authority.

Willhelm went rigid beside me. He was obligated to heed the order, yet with the fire in the General’s glare, I sensed his reluctance.

“I hear and obey,” Willhelm growled and spun on his heel, meeting my eye in passing.

With that single look, I knew I could call for him if needed and he would defend me. I gave him a thankful smile as he marched past.

“You,” the General spat.

That one word held so much fury, it lifted the hairs on the nape of my neck. He stalked closer, taking his time, seeking to intimidate me.

“Fix it.”

He threw the bunched tunic at me, and I made no move to catch it, letting it bounce off my chest to the ground.

I lifted my chin. “I did.”

“You did more than fix it, girl,” he said lowly.

He crowded close enough to make me crane my head to look up at him. The sun behind his back caused me to squint, trying to maintain eye contact.

“I assure you, I simply did your mending, as you have required of me. Me being a simple girl and all, incapable of assisting you in any other way,” I snapped.

“Fix it,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“I already did.” I glared, refusing to back down. “If my mending needs altered, perhaps you should seek out another seamstress.”

“You refuse?”

I swallowed, not liking how his tone had gone from threatening to challenging.

I especially didn’t like the wicked glint in his eye. “I don’t know what you’re asking me to fix.” Dread settled low in my belly as I shirked the question.

“Pick it up.”

I scowled, but made no move for it. Instead, I squared my shoulders, puffing out my chest like I was a dragon defending her space.

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