Never that easy, Haly thought. She clutched the knife tighter, ready to turn into a wind chime. Except that wouldn’t do much. Oh well, she was ready anyway.
Haly swallowed hard and wished again that she had a sword.
Sykel pulled out her own sword and the knife she’d been sharpening, then pressed the knife into Haly’s hand, who smiled gratefully.
Some of the pages had idle scribbles and others random doodles, but mostly they were filled with Sykel’s neat, cramped, sharp handwriting. She grabbed it back. “It’s mine. I would have thought even you could see that.”
She took it with a gesture of defeat. “Hardened? Maybe. You’re a better judge. Hardship? Definitely not. Tragedy? You need to get your story straight.” She took another bite of the grass.
She gave him her flat stare again. “How very touching. Maybe it hasn’t occurred to you that there are people who don’t care for your philosophy, Sir Professor.”
“Why don’t you ask her?” She sighed. “Leiance was chosen as heir and granted the name Evelyn. It’s traditional. I assume she calls herself Haly because her parents used to call her ‘their little halcyon’. Apparently it’s a bird and a description word. Are we done here?”
Sykel rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t have some heartbreaking backstory [hand motions and change of voice tone there] like everyone else seems to have.” She shook her head. “It’s a weakness. Evalyn’s weak. I can’t see how any of you could possibly be anything but weak, with those big hearts you all tote around.”
Sykel held up a hand and ticked off her fingers. “Several problems. One. I can ignore you as long as I want. Two, she swore herself to her role a long time ago, so it doesn’t matter WHAT terms we’re on, and three, who cares about romance anymore?”
She turned to face him, looking extremely annoyed + -_-. “I’m only here—“ she spoke slowly, stressing each sound— “because my sister won’t be content until she gets herself killed. I’m here to haul what’s left of her back to Basilica.”