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She cringed at the armour’s reprimand, avoiding eye contact with the captain. I’ll bet he spends more time polishing than wielding a sword. Briefly, she contemplated telling him the sad truth – she was but a hired help of the past, and could offer no guarantee of a successful return – yet there was a stirring within her that quelled this impulse. How do you know, until you’ve tried? Besides, there was something about the bright-eyed stripling next to her that warmed her heart. It would be something to see how he got on with the world.
“What do you want?”
The years had not quite changed her, unfortunately. How many times had she been advised to be more circumspect in her choice of words? Exactly the number of times she had laughed the well-meaning words of advice off. She wondered how he would respond to her brusqueness.
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