Falonar just looked at him. “But I didn’t whine about taking up time that could be used to air out the bedding. What’s the point of pretending they can use a—shit.” That when a woman with a bow fully drawn started to turn toward Hallevar as he added instructions. Hallevar leaped forward and shoved her so that the arrow skittered along the grass instead of into the woman next to her.

Lucivar and Falonar both winced at the language Hallevar used to explain that little error.

“Do you see?” Falonar demanded.

“Hallevar didn’t learn to leap like that because this was the first time someone had done something so stupid,” Lucivar replied. He paused, then added, “What’s really biting your ass about this?”

Falonar scuffed a boot over the ground. “If we aren’t the warriors and protectors, we don’t have much to offer—until a woman is looking for a stud. And that’s not easy to stomach.”

“Can you cook?” Lucivar asked mildly.

Falonar glared at him. “Of course I can cook. Any Eyrien who’s been in the hunting camps knows how to do rough-and-ready cooking.”

Lucivar nodded. “Then relax. Just because a woman knows how to catch her own dinner doesn’t mean she’s going to grow balls any more than you’re going to grow tits just because you know how to cook it.” He watched Surreal put an arrow into the outer ring of the target and smiled. “Do you want to go over and tell her you don’t think she’s capable of handling a bow?”

“Not while she’s got a weapon in her hand,” Falonar muttered.

They jumped when one of the women let out a loud yelp.

Lucivar relaxed when he noticed the way Hallevar was rubbing one hand over his mouth and the woman was surreptitiously rubbing her forearm against her right breast.

“Five minutes of free practice,” Hallevar called before hurrying toward the other two men.

“What happened?” Falonar demanded.

“Damnedest thing,” Hallevar said, breaking into a wide grin. “Didn’t think to warn them about it ’cause…well, Hell’s fire, I’ve never had to consider it before. How was I supposed to know you could catch a tit with a bowstring?”

“Catch a—” Falonar looked at the women—who had all turned to glare at the men. He looked at the ground and cleared his throat—several times. “Bet it stings.”

Lucivar felt his jaw muscles cramp with the effort to keep from laughing. “Yes, I’m sure it does. I didn’t think to warn Marian when I taught her, and I’d already worked with Jaenelle. But Marian’s got…a bit more chest.”

Falonar choked.