Warrior Mage (Book 1) by Lindsay Buroker Page B

village mailbox may now be slightly more damaged than they were earlier today.”
    “I thought so.” Falcon turned around awkwardly and crutched himself down the hallway, the tips thudding on the timeworn pine floorboards. “I’m going to leave most of the packing to you, but I’m going to the kitchen to grab a few supplies, in case I get stuck out there for days. I’ll leave rousting your friend to you, as well. She seems like she might be grumpy when she wakes up.”
    “Actually, she’s always grumpy.”
    “I’m sure she’ll be a fun bodyguard then.”
    Yanko decided not to mention that he wasn’t sure how long Lakeo would stay with him. “Are bodyguards supposed to be fun? I thought they just had to keep you alive.”
    “The bodyguard handbook says it’s like a marriage because you spend so much time together. Having someone you can stand seeing every hour of every day is useful for a good relationship.”
    Yanko stopped when he reached Lakeo’s door. “I haven’t decided if I believe that there’s actually a handbook about body guarding.” His brother had mentioned it once before, but he’d thought it might have been a joke.
    “That’s because you’re not a soldier,” Falcon said as he turned into the great room and headed for the kitchen. “They don’t trust anyone to be competent, so there’s a handbook for everything. Washing your uniform. Polishing your boots. Cleaning your weapons. Personal hygiene.”
    “The army has to teach soldiers how to wash?”
    “Oh, yes. That’s another thing you should look for in a bodyguard. Good hygiene.”
    “Glad to hear that your sense of humor is improving,” Yanko called after him, then lowered his voice. “Either that, or Grandmother’s draughts are making him loopy.”
    He knocked on Lakeo’s door. He wasn’t expecting it to open promptly and for her to be standing there, scowling at him. “I heard a bunch of yelling and thought invaders had come. Then I heard you talking about hygiene. Loudly.” Her scowl deepened.
    “Yes, I hope your nap was comfortable. We’ve decided staying here tonight isn’t a good idea, that we’ll be easy to find. Fortunately, it’s autumn, so there are plenty of cushy leaves on the forest floor to lie on.” Yanko smiled and braced himself for an argument.
    “I wondered if you’d want to stay here, if there might be people coming to finish what they started on your brother’s carriage.” Lakeo hefted a bag. “I’m ready if you don’t have a problem with me borrowing some things. It’s just clothes and food. And a bow I found out in that shed by the smokehouse.” She plucked it from where it was leaning against the wall, a sturdy ash staff that had yet to be strung. She nudged a quiver of arrows with her foot too.
    “That’s fine. That’s Falcon’s hunting bow. I doubt he’ll mind.” Unless he wanted to take it with him into the woods. No, there was an armory in the attic, weapons from the generations of White Foxes who had lived on the homestead, or at least visited it seasonally. There were dozens of bows up there.
    “I could borrow yours instead if you think he wants it,” Lakeo said.
    “I don’t hunt.”
    Her brows rose, and he felt the need to explain.
    “I can’t. I wasn’t very good at blocking my ability to sense others’ emotions when I was a boy, and I had a special affinity for animals. I could feel what they felt when they were dying, and it made me throw up.” His mouth twisted, remembering Father’s disappointed look the first time they had gone hunting and that had happened. As a non-Sensitive, he couldn’t have understood. He hadn’t tried to, even when Yanko explained it.
    “Huh. I’d call you a wimp, but I saw you pull down a hundred tons of stone with your mind.” Lakeo put on her boots and grabbed her gear.
    Yanko hurried to pack his mother’s robe and amulet and was debating what else to bring when a cold, unpleasant whisper slid across the back of his neck. It