Page 45 of Stardust Child

“Yes,” he said, sitting down to remove his armor as she bustled over to the hearth. “Davi said you want to go out and interview more men.”

“Yes, I do. Even if it’s just for a couple minutes each. It would be better if they didn’t have to come all the way to the storehouse, wouldn’t it?” Setting the kettle over the fire, she came to help him with his armor. He could manage it himself, but he had to use his teeth to undo the straps of his vambraces.

“If you have guards with you, then I meant for you to go wherever you like…” His black brows drew together, a silentbut.“I don’t like the idea of you walking that much, though. Especially outside the walls. And we don’t have horses to spare yet…”

“I don’t know how to ride,” she reminded him, crestfallen.

“Yet,” he repeated, pulling off his breastplate and setting it on its stand. “There’s going to come a time when I can’t let you go anywhere without guards,” he said, looking at her with an apology in his eyes. “And maybe one day you’ll only be able to go out in a carriage, even if I’m with you. Especially if I’m with you. It won’t be safe. I’m sorry for that.”

“That’s not your fault,” she said, touched by the apology and wondering why he thought he had to give one. It was her father’s fault for trying to kill him.

“But I’ll teach you to ride. There will be more horses once the harvest is in, and then you can go wherever you like, at least for a little while. Though I’ll miss having you ride with me,” he admitted, and was surprised when she promptly slid into his lap.

“We still have to think of a name for your horse,” she told him. “Even after I learn to ride, I still want to ride with you sometimes, just like we do now.”

“I’ll buy you a horse of your own.” His arms wrapped around her and his lips brushed her forehead. “What about an Anglose? Have you heard of them?”

She shook her head.

“They’re a lady’s hunting horse, I saw them in Segoile. Gentle as kittens, with feathers on their feet. And they’re light as a cloud. Their gait,” he explained. “I’ve never seen a horse so soft-footed. What color do you want?”

“Black,” she said instantly. He smiled, the corners of his black eyes crinkling.

“All right. And in the meantime, if you want to go talk to my men…” She could almost see him wrestling with himself. “I know it won’t hurt you to walk,” he admitted reluctantly. “But if you get hot, or tired, stop. If you feel sick, tell Davi and Leonin. Promise me.”

“I will.”

“You almost died,” he said seriously, looking her in the eyes. “I was in the Brede with you for six hours, wife, wondering if you would ever wake up again. And once you have sun sickness, it’s more likely you’ll get it again. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will,” she repeated, softer. None of what he felt showed in his stern face, but she had learned to see it in his eyes, the depths of things he never let himself say. She hadn’t thought about what that day had been like for him. “I really will.”

“All right.” He sighed and looked again at her papers. “You never do anything halfway.”

“I want to protect your men from scholars,” she told him, trying to make him smile. “And…I want to try to talk to as many as possible. Sir Davi said there are over five hundred at the barracks, and I was doing some sums…”

* **

With a clang that rattled the pebbles on the ground of the practice yard, Juste smashed his shield into Tounot’s helmeted face.

“You think he’s holding a grudge?” Miche wondered, watching beside Remin at a safe distance. Even with a padded helm, a blow like that would have been like standing inside a rack of temple chimes. Tounot shook his head and shifted back, chopping his elbow into the back of Juste’s armored neck and driving the other man to his knees.

The two men were hashing out their differences.

Remin watched with interest, the match enlivened by Miche’s colorful commentary. More often than not, it was best to let men hammer things out with steel, and he wasn’t terribly worried that either would go too far. He, Juste, and Tounot had known each other since ten year-old Juste had been saddled with minding four year-old Remin, and Tounot had come to foster at Tressin every summer since he was five.

“Ten silvers on Tounot,” murmured Miche.

“You have never once paid up,” Remin noted as Juste pivoted and slammed his sword into Tounot’s back with a smash like a thunderclap. The two were roughly even with a sword; Tounot put more power behind his blows, but Juste’s precision was almost without peer. “Though I’d put my money on Juste today. He’s angry.”

“Tounot crossed the line.”

And Tounot knew it, too. By the end, he was mostly going through the motions of the fight, already halfway to an apology. The fight ended with a strike aimed at the notch between Tounot’s neck and shoulder, and it would have killed him if Juste hadn’t turned his blade. Thecrackas the flat of his blade snapped down made both Remin and Miche wince together. That was going to leave a mark.

“Do you yield?” Juste asked, his voice muffled by his helmet.

“I yield.” Tounot pulled his helmet off, his thick brown curls dark with sweat. “Your victory. That fucking stung, Juste.”

Though there was a council room very nearly completed, by unspoken agreement the four men found their way to the roof of the barracks afterward, where they often went to observe the training in the yard below. It was especially pleasant in the evening, with the wind whipping and the sun sinking in ruddy glory to the west.

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