Page 17 of The Second Death of Locke

But Kier was right. Attis was only agreeing because the likelihood of them coming out of it alive or fit for service on the other side was… slim.

“Hand Ola Et-Kiltar. Brit Wyvern. Officer Eron Fastria.” Grey sent a wave of approval for choosing Brit and Ola—they were a strong pairing, and they’d seen the blood.

They knew what the girl was capable of. Grey had figured Kier would want Chappelle over Fastria, but Chappelle would probably take over command in his absence.

Mare noted the names, chewing on her lip. Grey resisted the urge to stick out her tongue and shout, I told you so. I told you we were different .

“I will notify them. You leave as soon as preparations are finalized. Report to the infirmary for assessment.”

Kier nodded, thanked the master and finished with a salute. They were halfway out when Attis called, “Seward.”

He turned, one hand gripping the cloth to hold it aside. Grey lurked in the shadowy path between tents.

“It’s not always easier,” she said, “to be free of duty.”

“Not everything is about duty,” Kier said. Something odd flickered across Mare’s face—maybe she disagreed. Grey had one fixed image of them, the two women who’d spent more time together than any Hand and mage she had ever met, who she could never really understand.

“Freedom does not guarantee you the world,” Attis said mildly.

Kier smiled, the move not quite reaching his eyes. “I would choose freedom over anything, Master.”

Attis inclined her head, both allowing for Kier’s words and dismissing them.

Grey waited until they were halfway to the infirmary before she said, “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

Kier didn’t look at her, but the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Who said you had anything to do with it? Each assignment chisels away more of my beauty.”

“You were never beautiful to start with.”

“That is a bold-faced lie, Flynn.”

It was. She didn’t care. There was something clawing up inside of her, and it felt an awful lot like happiness. She pushed power toward him, a blaring supernova of it, so much that he stumbled and nearly took a knee in the mud.

“Gods and seas,” he muttered, rubbing idly at his chest. “I can feel every heartbeat in the camp when you do that.”

She pushed him a bit more, just to be an ass.

“Don’t celebrate too soon,” he said. “We’ve got to survive this first. And figure out some way to keep our hand firmly concealed.”

“With your unchiseled beauty on the line,” Grey said, “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

They entered the infirmary to find three assistants and a healer Grey didn’t know manning the ward. “Where’s Leonie?” she asked before she could stop herself, earning a sly grin from Kier, who knew nothing about anything.

The healer stood, curtsied and said, “Doing paperwork in the back. She asked for a moment undisturbed.”

“But—”

“Send them in,” Leonie said, poking her head out from behind a curtain.

Grey made her way through the beds to the room where Leonie waited, sitting on a little stool, reading a recipe for an herbal concoction. She patted the nearby bed without looking up when they came in. “Who’s first?”

“Don’t you need to know what we’re doing?” Kier asked, pulling off his cloak and folding it neatly over a chair.

“Chappelle got word he’s taking the company. You’re moving?”

“Something like that,” Grey said, folding her arms over her chest, leaning against a cabinet of medication. God, how she missed leaning . Solid walls. A floor that wasn’t constructed from packed dirt, waterproof padding, scratchy rugs, and the tears of those who came before.

Leonie poked and prodded at Kier, checking inside his mouth and ears, looking at his eyes, listening to his heartbeat and the sound of his lungs as he breathed, testing his reflexes. She also examined his mostly healed wound, blowing a low whistle. “That’s some Hand of yours,” she said.

“She’s too good for me by half,” Kier confirmed.

“At least you know it. You’re good to go, Seward. Flynn?”

Grey hated these examinations, even though nothing ever came up. She endured Leonie’s prodding. “When was your last monthly bleed?” Leonie asked while she checked on an old wound on Grey’s right arm, a slash from a skirmish weeks before.

“Uh…”

Leonie sighed. “Have you had recent relations of a sexual nature with anyone with the ability to produce semen?”

“That depends on your—” Kier started.

“Gods, no,” Grey said, cutting him off before she could think better of it.

“Interesting,” Leonie said clinically, very careful not to look at Kier. Grey kicked her shin and pretended it was a reflex.

“Can’t say the same for the captain,” Grey said, because if he was going to tease her about Leonie, she was more than capable of firing back. Kier only shrugged.

“That is none of my business,” Leonie said. “Presumably you’ll be due for your monthlies during your travels—I’ll grab you a pack.”

She disappeared through the thin corridor that went between supply rooms.

“She is pretty,” Kier said with a glint in his eye that Grey couldn’t quite read.

“And too good for me by half,” Grey said, repeating his earlier words so she didn’t say, So are you—by chance, are you interested in relations of a sexual nature?

“Doubtful,” Kier said. “I can leave, if you want to say goodbye to her properly.”

Grey rolled her eyes at his wink. “What, so you can go say goodbye to the dozen paramours you’ve acquired at this camp?”

“You wound me, Flynn.”

“I know you, Seward. There’s a difference.”

“If only any of them were enough to steal my heart, but I fear I’m too much a fool for that,” he lamented, his gaze lingering on her for a moment too long.

The words sent a pang to her stomach, but she had no idea how to respond.

Then, quieter, “I didn’t speak for you, back with Attis, did I?

Make an assumption? I know I do that sometimes. ”

“What do you mean?”

He moved across the room, draping his cloak over her shoulders—he must’ve seen the goosebumps rising on her arms. “I’m not forcing you into an early retirement against your will?”

The laugh that bubbled out of her was half hysteria, half exhaustion. “Me? Stay here? Without you? Not a chance.”

But that uncertainty hadn’t gone. He picked up the little hammer Leonie had used to check their reflexes and fiddled with it, his thumb rubbing at a ridge in the metal. “Six months would’ve been nice,” he said doubtfully.

She laid a hand over his, releasing another pulse of power that made his eyes flick shut. “Forever will be nicer.”

His eyes opened, hazy and indistinct. “Grey, when I said—”

The supply pack hit Grey in the arm. Kier jumped back. Grey grabbed the pack, flipped through it and nodded. “Thanks,” she said to Leonie, sliding down from the exam table as the other woman came back into the room.

“Can I have a moment with you, Hand?” Leonie asked. “I have a med kit for your travels, things to run through. Attis sent a brief—you’ll be the healer?”

“You know more than me,” Kier said.

“Go on,” Grey said. “I’ll be along.”

He looked at her for a second, and she remembered that he’d been in the middle of saying something—possibly something important. But he didn’t protest. He took his cloak back, pushing hers toward her. “I’ll start packing up,” he said.

Leonie didn’t move until they were alone. When Kier was gone and enough time had passed that he was safely out of earshot, she leaned her good hip against the exam table.

“It’s not a reassignment, is it?” she asked. She set the healer’s bag on the table and opened it. Grey took a cursory glance, taking in the sachets of herbs, the tiny jars of salve.

“I can’t say.”

Leonie made a small noise in her throat. “They had me check the prisoner for injuries.”

That caught Grey’s attention. “And? Is she in good health?”

“Yes, mostly. A few cuts and bruises, and her shoulder was dislocated when she arrived—whatever Luthar did to her, they didn’t do it kindly. She has had dental work done. Looks like it was performed on the continent.”

“The continent?”

“Mm. They use different materials. It’s easy to see, if you know what to look for.”

Grey turned this over. It wouldn’t be unexpected for the lost daughter of Locke to seek refuge in the continent—it just wasn’t what happened.

“A few other inconsistencies. I left you notes.”

She chewed her lip. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because we’re friends,” Leonie said, with no hint of irony. She hesitated, looking up at Grey with a solemn expression. “And I hope, someday, if you have need of me—”

“Leonie…”

But Leonie only raised a hand to Grey’s cheek. “You’re not a normal well either, Hand Captain.”

Six years of serving Kier across nearly a dozen assignments, and no one had discovered her—yet in this camp, it felt everyone was suspicious. What had changed? What had slipped? Or was it only that she’d let her guard down, that she’d let others get close to her?

Grey smiled sadly, catching Leonie’s hand. “I’m obviously far better-looking.”

Leonie rolled her eyes, the moment broken. “You spend too much time with the captain. Now, stop your flirting, and come here and say goodbye.”

It was not often appropriate, in the army, to depart with a hug. But Grey so rarely found others on assignments that she cared for, that she liked . So when Leonie opened her arms, Grey didn’t hesitate to tuck herself against the other woman, to let herself be embraced.

“Write to me, if you can,” Leonie said.

“If I can,” Grey said instead of a smart-ass retort, which she thought was very noble of her.

“And be safe,” Leonie added against her hair. Grey did not bother to respond to that, because on this mission, safety was very much outside of her control.