Page 39 of Shield Sworn

When they’d finally collected everything they thought worth something, the thieves slipped into the forest, no longer bothering with stealth. Revni’s eyes followed the departure of her antler-handled knife with a hungry look. The man who held it walked backwards, keeping his eye on them, until the bodies melted into the spruce and poplar.

The wind cut through Eavus’ tunic. He felt naked and free, like a child about to run through a riconoi party on a dare, wearing nothing but a grin, streaking past the elegant ladies sprawled on their couches, the old men choking on their salted grapes.

“Would you have preferred we keep fighting?” Revni asked.

Eavus swung his eyes to her. She must have been cold, too, but didn’t show it.

“Maybe.”

She nodded, but then bent to pick up the blanket, shaking it out. “The gods didn’t want it.”

That they would lose clothing and keep weapons was so backward Eavus couldn’t wrap the rest of his thoughts around it. Befuddled floated by and gave him a little wave. It had just begun to register that the stolen breastplate was a disaster, actually. Soldiers didn’t travel with papers. They traveled with armor. Without it, he was just a half-naked man in possession of an Aleterian sword. In one move, they’d just made Eavus’ travel far more dangerous. Or, was it the other way around? Had his shiny armor attracted the thieves or saved their lives? His muscles moved slow and aching when he bent to pick up his belt, like waking from too long a nap. It was too much—fear and gratitude, and that thrum repeating like a chant: You should have listened to the Dinaeii.

“Let me see it.”

Eavus twisted. She had her hand outstretched.

“See what?”

She flicked a finger towards the sword, still lying in the dirt. “The person who uses it better should be the one to carry it.”

Was she insane? “That’s not how this works!” Eavus snatched it up quickly, followed by instant annoyance at how quickly he’d moved, as if his body was afraid she’d jump him for it.

“What is more important, you carrying the big sword, or us being able to defend ourselves when yet another person tries to kill us?”

“Me carrying the big sword,” he said flatly.

At her snort of exasperated laughter, Eavus was surprised to find his own smile trying to escape. He held it in.

“I knew the sword was not your weapon, the first time I saw you.”

A prickle of self-consciousness traveled up his spine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You hold it wrong.”

“I hold it fine.”

“Give.” She held out her hand again.

Eavus didn’t want to.

Revni sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. Reluctantly, Eavus handed it over.

“You hold your grip too high. See?” She swung, showing him her bone of wrist. “It limits your range. Hand down here—” She shifted, demonstrated. Eavus reddened. She wasn’t wrong. “Gives you better movement. Let the weight do the work.”

Eavus clapped his fingers to hand it back, but Revni wasn’t through.

“And you keep your sword back here.” She pulled her elbow far behind her ribs. “Look at this!” She was mocking him now. “The point is only just in front of your belly. All this room for the enemy to stab you first.”

“That’s not how we do it in the army.”

“Yes, because you have a shield to hide behind. Here, we have no shield. See?” She arced the sword in wide, large movements. “Your reach is your friend.”

“No, give it here.” He took it from her, and spun it once, tight and controlled. “You’re swinging it too wildly, see? You’re not meant to bash someone with it.”

“You can bash someone with anything, if you try hard enough.”

“I’m sure you can,” he responded dryly, and was rewarded with another of her smirks. He huffed away the distraction. “But this is a different kind of sword. It’s a thrusting weapon. Short movements. In and out.” He lunged once, to demonstrate, but she didn’t flinch from his step, and he found the inside of his leg skimming the outside of hers, her only reaction a confident eyebrow. He felt strangely unsettled.