Page 70 of Warrior of the Wild
“No,” I argue. “You got yourself banished. You should have trusted Aros and taken the trial for the profession you wanted.”
Iric’s glare is murderous. “Just like you trusted your friend?”
Oh, that one hurts. I trusted Iric with what happened at my trial, and now he’s throwing it in my face.
I slam the trapdoor shut and sit on it.
“What are you doing?” Soren asks.
“Neither of you is coming up here until you talk through your problems!” I shout.
“She can’t be serious,” Iric says.
I’m dead serious. Earlier today, Iric needed a gentler hand to help and encourage him while swimming. But this? This is something he needs to face head-on. And I don’t care if he’s angry about it.
There’s pressure against the trapdoor as someone tries pushing against it. Probably Iric.
At the angle he has to shove, he’s not moving the door anywhere.
“Dammit, Rasmira! Move it!”
“No!”
“Get out of the way or I swear on your goddess that I won’t make you new armor!”
“Iric, you idiot! I’m doing thisforyou. You want to go home. We all do. You’re not going to accomplish that if you keep holding so much over Soren’s head.”
“You expect me to suddenly forgive him because you won’t let me inside my own house?”
“No, I expect you to talk. What happens after that is up to you. But I won’t let your problems stand in the way of us going home.”
He growls up at me, but I don’t move. Eventually, I hear the sounds of Iric climbing back down.
“Soren, make her let us in!” Iric screams.
“What do you expect me to do?”
“Flash that winning smile or bat those long lashes or something.”
“First, she wouldn’t see me bat my lashes from here, and second—”
“This is your fault! You brought her here, and now she’s stolen our home!”
They quiet as they hear me moving about the house, hauling things around.
“Is she—” Soren starts.
“She’s moving the mattress over the top of the trapdoor! You arenotkeeping us out here all night long, Rasmira.”
“That’s entirely up to you,” I say, plumping up my pillow before finding a comfy position.
“What do we do?” Iric asks. “Shatter the window? Or we could wait her out. There’s not that much food up there. She’s got to piss sometime.”
A beat of silence. “Is the idea of talking to me really so unbearable that you’re suggesting we lay siege to our tree house?” Soren says gruffly.
“You know what? Fine. FINE! Soren, I forgive you. There. Happy, Rasmira? I said I forgive him. Now let us up.”
I don’t bother responding to that pathetic attempt.
