“And as custom dictates—”
Her eyes snapped up to his. “But I have a sword already!”
He had to laugh ruefully. “Ah, Alexeika, my lady, you indeed will never change.
Sir Thum?”
His friend had already guessed his intentions and was pulling a second hauberk from the sack. Its brass links gleamed in the sun, and Alexeika gasped with her first genuine smile of the day.
She ran to take it from Thum’s hands, then spun around to face Dain with a new frown. “And you made me carry my own gift across the camp? You—” Dain laughed, and after a moment so did she.
“Forgive me a small joke,” he said. “Let us see if it fits you.” He and Thum started to hold it up against her, but she looked suddenly shy and retreated from them.
Gripping Severgard, she ran out of sight into the trees, and was gone a very long time indeed.
Dain glanced at his friend, who was preening and examining his sleeves with a very satisfied smirk. “What is taking her so long? Do you suppose it doesn’t fit? What is she doing?”
“Crying,” Sir Thum replied.
Dain was startled. “Crying? Again? But why?”
Sir Thum shrugged. “Who knows? My sisters do it at the strangest times.” “But I don’t understand her,” Dain said, genuinely puzzled. “All the time we were prisoners, she never faltered. We crossed the desert, starving for water and food, and she was stalwart the whole time. Not a complaint. Never a flinch from anything we faced. But ever since we came here, she’s been so odd. Why should she cry now?”
“Women cry sometimes because they are happy.”
“I know that,” Dain said impatiently. “But she isn’t happy.”
“Does your majesty want my advice?”
“Of course!”
“Leave her be.”