Bran and Dajouth flicked nervous eyes back and forth between her and Ōbhin while Smiles rubbed at the back of his neck. Cerdyn didn’t seem to care, and Fingers just studied her with concern, the digits of his right hand tracing over the swollen knuckles of his left.
“Calisthenics!” barked Ōbhin. “We’ll start with push-ups.”
Avena never could do as many as the men most days, but she normally could manage as many as Bran. Today, she could hardly do any.
Her arms felt noodly and weak. She panted and gasped as she forced herself to push up and down, lifting and raising her torso. Ōbhin was upfront, not looking at her as he grunted through his exercises. She glared at him when she wasn’t fighting the burning pain in her arms.
She collapsed after fifteen. Half her normal amount. A dizzying wave washed over her. She pushed it down and waited for the others to finish. Then they launched into the jumping exercises. She gasped and wheezed by the time they finished, only just managing to keep up with them.
Running, however, broke her. She didn’t even make it around the perimeter once. She grew dizzy as they jogged past the reed-lined shore of Lake Ophavin. The world swayed about her. She gasped, bent over, and seized her knees to keep from collapsing. Her stomach growled.
Fingers fell out and studied her as she struggled to catch her breath. Sweat poured down her face. The day’s heat was mounting. The sun burned through the thin clouds. She swallowed excess spit, the back of her throat tasting coppery.
“You know he’s scared,” Fingers said.
“He’s disgusted with me,” she hissed. “Did you hear what he said about me?” The pain welled. “I thought I’d proven myself. I had, right? That I could fight. That he could trust me to watch his back.”
He cocked his head. “That’s important to you, huh?”
“I want to protect us all!” she snarled. “Why should my sex bar me from doing it?”
“Don’t see how it is,” he said.
“Ōbhin disagrees.”
“No, he’s scared,” Fingers reiterated. “Boy don’t handle it well.”
“He’s a man.”
“Maybe to you.” Fingers spat. “You’re all boys to me. And a girl. Too young and serious. Bah, you and Ōbhin should be sneakin’ off to kiss, not whackin’ at each other with pipes.”
“What business is it of yours?” she demanded. Fingers hardly ever said a word to her.
“Just tellin’ you, he’s scared.”
“And that’s a reason for him to turn his back on me? I survived.” She swallowed. “How badly did I mess up that day? I can’t remember it all. It’s just pieces shattered in my mind. I can glimpse bits here and there. None of it makes sense.”
“Girl, you didn’t—”
“Don’t ‘girl’ me!” she snapped. “I’m twenty. A woman.”
Fingers released a long exhale. “Give him a few days. You really scared him. He wants to run. You keep chasin’ him, it’ll just make him run faster.”
“What are you talking about?” Her legs quivered, sore muscles wanting to collapse. Her clothing trapped in the heat. The sunlight warmed the back of her neck, her short hair sticking to her sweaty skin. “Scare him? How?”
“You know how. It wasn’t your fault, but that don’t change it.” Fingers rubbed the back of his neck. “Wanna reassure him, then make sure you’re mended before you try ’n show him you’re not weak. You look like you’re ‘bout to pass out.”
“Feel like it,” she muttered.
“No shame in takin’ some time to recover,” Fingers added.
She studied him. “I thought you hated women.”
“Don’t hate women. Just my wife.” He sighed. “And I don’t even hate her, which makes me the fool. Makes it hurt all the more. Elohm’s Colours, girl, go. Sleep. Get well. Give Ōbhin time to realize he’s an idiot, and then you two can go back to your plots.”
The tips of her ears burned. “We’re not plotting.”
Fingers snorted. This fatherly smile crossed his lips. “Go on, girl. Don’t wanna see you hurt neither. Ōbhin weren’t the only one scared to see you with a piece of metal stuck in your head.”
“You?”
“Bah,” he growled. “Smiles. He almost pissed his pants, and Dajouth didn’t have no flowery thing to say for days, to the delight of every maid and cook.”
“Do you have children, Fingers?”
He stared at her for a long time before he said, “No, thank Elohm. I’d be a lousy father.”
“I’m not so sure.” Her stomach rumbled. “I think I’ll eat an early lunch and then take a nap.”
“He don’t hate you,” Fingers added. “Or think you’re weak or that being a woman is holding you back.”
“He said it,” she muttered. As much as she wanted to be back working with Ōbhin, training, plotting, and venturing out on secret missions, she wouldn’t swallow those words.
“Make him sweat when he apologizes. My wife always did that.” Pain flashed across his face. He jogged on, leaving her standing there.
She felt bemused by the entire conversation. Confused. Was Fingers trying to say that Ōbhin, in an infuriating and demeaning way, wanted to protect her? I didn’t fail him, he just doesn’t want to see me hurt. Like I want that for him.
She headed inside.
If he expects me to wait around dreading dark news while he goes and does something reckless . . .
First things first; she had to recover. Then she would figure out how to make Ōbhin see reason.
*
Fifty-Fourth Day of Forgiveness, 755 EU
Ōbhin hadn’t seen much of Avena. She’d been spending time in her room for the last three days, taking care of herself. He hated the pain he caused her, but it was better to drive her away than to see her bleeding out on the floor again.
When he closed his eyes at night, the pool of her blood
