Sartes promised.
She smiled at that. “That’s sweet, but what if you aren’t there?”
Sartes couldn’t imagine not being there, because that would mean leaving Leyana’s side.
“I’ll be there,” he promised. He realized what he was saying. “That is… I mean… if you want me to be.”
“I want you to be,” Leyana replied. “But if you’re protecting me, it’s only right that I should protect you, isn’t it?”
That was a fair point, and Leyana seemed to get the basics of using the weapon quickly. Even so, Sartes hoped that she wouldn’t have to fight anytime soon. He couldn’t stand the thought of her potentially being hurt, and any fight came with risks.
To Sartes’s surprise, when they left, a couple of men walked along with the wagons. Sartes frowned at that.
“They want to help fight the invasion,” Leyana said beside him. “You said it yourself: we have to stand together.”
“That wasn’t what I meant,” Sartes said.
Sometimes, though, it didn’t matter what you were trying to do. It mattered what you did. Sartes just hoped that everything he did would prove to be enough.
They moved on, heading for the next village. There always seemed to be another village. When they finally stopped for the night, Sartes wandered from the road a little way. He spun at the sound of footsteps behind him, padding across the meadow grass, his hand already going to his sword.
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