Page 25 of Savage Devotion
"You didn't have to help save those men from the rubble."
"Professional obligation."
"So is this."
Lie. But a useful one.
He tastes the stew cautiously, then more enthusiastically as heat and flavor register. His expression shifts from guarded suspicion to genuine surprise.
"This is good."
"Don't sound so shocked."
"I expected military rations."
"I'm not military."
Anymore.
The distinction matters more than I want to admit. Military thinking reduces everything to tactical advantage and strategic position. Civilian thinking allows for complexity, ambiguity, and the possibility that enemies might become something else given different circumstances.
Heldrik never learned that lesson.
Maybe I haven't either.
We eat in companionable silence while the camp continues its daily routine around us. Horses being groomed. Weapons being sharpened. Sentries change shifts with quiet efficiency.
Normal sounds. Peaceful sounds.
Deceptive.
"Your nephew seems to disagree with your methods," Kaelgor says eventually.
"Uncle. And he disagrees with most things that don't involve direct application of force."
"Effective leadership style?"
"For certain objectives."
But not for this one.
Lyanna needs subtlety. Negotiation. The careful maneuvering that Heldrik considers weakness.
Which is why I'm handling this personally.
"What about your objectives?" Kaelgor asks.
The question carries implications I'm not ready to explore. Personal goals versus family obligations. Individual choice versus inherited responsibility. The decisions affects more than just the person making them.
What do I want?
My sister back safely. The Bloodfang threat neutralized. Some kind of peace that doesn't require constant vigilance.
Simple desires. Complicated execution.
"I want my sister home."
"And after that?"
