Disciple of War Disciple of War (Art of the Adept #4) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,189

to dress. “I’d better get moving.” They had a lot to do. Orders needed to be given and powers consulted. Between the spell design and Will’s task, it might take them a week to prepare.

Selene pulled the covers around herself self-consciously. “Do you think you could find me something to wear?”

“What happened to the dress you were wearing?”

“Well, to begin with, I got mud and blood on a considerable portion of it—”

He waggled his brows. “I know the perfect spell for that.”

She rolled her eyes. “—and I cut parts of it up to try and staunch your bleeding.”

Will frowned. He already knew she’d given him a regeneration potion, otherwise he wouldn’t have slept so long—and he would still be injured. Then he remembered that she had taken the regeneration potion herself. “Where did you get the potion to heal me?”

Selene wasn’t the type to be easily flustered, but she blushed suddenly. “After cutting up my skirts, I ran out and yelled at anyone and everyone until I found proper help.”

He glanced around until he spotted the remains of her dress. It was hanging up on one side of the tent, and the skirt was entirely gone. He tried not to smirk as he imagined Selene running around a military camp bare-legged.

“Fortunately, Tiny had the potions you gave him. You need to replace his regeneration potion, by the way.”

Will nodded, beginning to chuckle.

“Careful what you laugh at,” she warned.

Will got up but continued to snicker. “I guess we really should get to work.” He began dressing, and once that was done Selene helped him with his armor. It felt nostalgic, having her diligent hands helping to adjust and settle his mail and breastplate. Ordinarily Lieutenant Renly performed the task, and while the man did a perfect job of it, it just wasn’t the same. He could feel Selene’s seriousness as she tried to ensure everything was snug and in place. More than anyone, including himself, she wanted to be certain he would be as safe as possible.

She finished and glanced up at him. “Are you crying?”

“No,” he lied before attempting to wipe his cheeks with one forearm. Mail was ill-suited to the task though, and the new beard on his cheek was immediately caught in the metal rings. “Ow, ow!”

Selene caught his arm before he could tear the hair out, keeping it still. “By the Mother!” she swore. “Hold still.” After a short search, she returned with a straight razor from his kit and somehow cut him free without damaging his beard too badly. Then she kissed his cheek. “You’re such a baby. What did you do before I got here?”

Will grinned. “I definitely didn’t cry as much.” He rubbed his cheek with one hand. “You probably should have shaved it off. What do you think?”

She shook her head. “Keep it. It looks good.”

“You didn’t like it last year.”

“It’s gotten thicker. Last year, it looked like you were trying to compensate for being young. It suits you better now.”

“I guess that settles that,” he remarked. “I’m going to call a meeting, and I’ll leave immediately after that. Do you want to be in—”

Selene waved her hand dismissively. “Just send Janice. I don’t have time to play war with you. Make sure she knows I need to borrow some clothes, too.”

“Play war?” he cried out in mock outrage.

“Shoo! Get out. This spell isn’t going to design itself.”

She made motions to try and hurry him from the room, but he caught her hands and gave her one last kiss. “See you in a few days.”

“Be careful.”

“I’ll be perfectly safe,” he told her. “I’m the Grak-Murra, remember?”

***

The senior officers’ meeting got off to a rough start, as Will had to explain both his relative absence for the past day as well as the new information he’d gained from his meeting with Grim Talek. The day’s assassination attempt and the sudden appearance of Terabinia’s Crown Princess only served to throw additional fuel on the fire of an already chaotic meeting.

“Where is Her Majesty now?” asked Commander Lambel. “Will she be assuming command?”

Will fought to keep his irritation from showing. While Lambel was earnest and hardworking, in Lustral’s absence the young commander had shown an annoying tendency to ask an abundance of questions. “No. She will be busy with another project, although if she asks for anything, I expect you to provide it immediately.”

“Won’t you be here?” asked Lambel, quickly catching the subtext of Will’s answer.

“I have something pressing to take care of.” He looked at