Despite her resolve, Brigid still hissed at the pain as they worked and occasionally let out a yell. She swore and said things that he knew wouldn’t have been allowed if she were still at home, but in Albamarl he couldn’t see any reason to censor her language. Why bother trying to make her talk like a lady when she was being trained to be a killer? Brigid’s strength returned as they worked, but he knew she still wouldn’t be fully recovered by the time the arena day had arrived. He hoped the arm blades would be enough, for they didn’t have nearly enough time to do the shield tattoos. They developed a semblance of closeness while he worked on her arms, a bond born of pain and shared time together. Once or twice he saw her smile again, in between grimaces, as she made light of her own gasps and occasional yelps. It was as if she sometimes forgot to be angry. The smiles were the worst, for they reminded him of the happy girl she had once been. At one point she caught herself laughing at some dark joke he had made.
What do You think about The Silent Tempest (Book 2)?
