Tavi closed his eyes in contentment for a moment. Or perhaps they had simply wanted one another that much. Either way, he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about being given a night’s... sleep, however duplicitously it had been arranged.

She murmured something in her sleep, and Tavi felt a stirring of vague, flickering emotion from her, rapidly shifting from one feeling to another. She was dreaming. Tavi stroked her hair with one arm and spread his focus, trying to get a sense of the camp around him. If something had gone amiss during the night, there would be some sense of it. And the air itself, the general emotional ambiance in a Legion camp, could tell him a great deal about the state of mind of his soldiers.

There were half a dozen guards posted around the wagon at a distance obviously meant to be discreet, but they couldn’t have helped but overhear everything, unless Kitai had remembered to put up a windcrafting. Or one of the men had. Tavi found that fact to be far less embarrassing than he would have a year before.

There were a great many bad things in the world, which perhaps helped put such things into perspective. There was nothing earth-shattering about others knowing that he and Kitai enjoyed one another’s company.

The guards were on alert and calm. A pair of valets, nearby, had the sense of men going about routine tasks—making breakfast, then. The general air of the camp was one of anticipation. Fear blended with excitement, rage against the invaders mixed with concern for fellow Alerans. The men weren’t stupid. They knew they were about to go to war, but there was not a trace of despair—only anticipation and confidence.

That, by itself, was very nearly the most valuable attribute a Legion could possess. Legion captains had known for years that the expectation of victory breeds victory.

He should get up and get moving, rousing the nearer men, playing the role of a Princeps with boundless power, confidence, and energy. But the simple bedroll felt extremely comfortable. He turned his attention to the warm, relaxed, sleeping presences beside him, and—

Presences?

Tavi sat bolt upright.

* * *

“You didn’t tell me,” Tavi said quietly.

Kitai looked sideways at him, then away. She thrust her arms into the steel-stained padded vest she wore beneath her mail and began to buckle it on.

Tavi pressed gently. “Why didn’t you tell me, chala?”

“I should never have come here with you,” Kitai said, her voice hard. “I should have remained in my own bedroll, alone. Crows take it, I knew you would sense it if we were together. I was weak.”

Tavi heard his own voice gain an angry edge. “Why didn’t you tell me, Kitai?”