There she was, spinning him right around her finger again, turning all his ire into concern. “Why do you need to leave? What’s wrong?” He stepped closer, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
“That’s my business. I wouldn’t want to make myself any more of a liability by involving you.”
He ground his teeth together, before throwing his head back with an aggravated growl.
“This life is not glamorous,” Duke told her. “We travel constantly. We sleep on the ground most nights. When we’re not in danger from storms, we’re in danger in cities where we are considered criminals. This life is not for the faint of heart.”
“There are things I do not know, things I will have to learn. But I am capable. I am familiar with sacrifice. I know what it is to make hard choices.”
“Tell me you’re not considering this,” Locke said to Duke.
The old man was silent for a long moment, both Locke and Roar looking to him for support. Duke rubbed at his mustache, a habit of his when he was thinking deeply. “Let’s think about this, Locke. She’s smart. And determined.”
“She’s a child.”
Roar’s shoulders hunched in Locke’s peripheral vision, and he swallowed back the guilt. He could apologize later. For now, it was imperative that he won this argument.
“You were a child when I brought you into the fold,” Duke said. “She’s a young woman with a good head on her shoulders. And if this is what she wants, I’m inclined to at least hear her out.”
Just like that, Roar’s shoulders straightened, and Locke turned to watch a devastating smile bloom across her mouth. His weakness when it came to her only made him more cross.
“What skills do you have?” he snapped at Roar.
“Skills?”
“Yes, skills. What can you do? Or do you just plan to tag along for the ride?”
A flush spread over her cheeks, and her voice was tentative when she answered, “I’m good on a horse. Very good.”
Where in the world would she have learned to ride? He quickly hardened his expression. “Horses are fine for travel, but they don’t do well in storms. They, unlike you, have good survival instincts.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Locke could have sworn he felt an updraft—the first sign that bad weather could occur—and he knew that this time he had pushed too far.
Roar marched toward him, spearing a finger into his chest, and said, “I can read and write. I can speak Taraanese, Finlaghi, and Odilarian. I can read maps. I know enough about grassland vegetation and wildlife to survive without a market to buy food and drink. I’m good with knives and a bow. I learn quickly, and I’m not afraid of hard work. And I’ve spent my entire life reading as much about storms as I could get my hands on.” For a moment, her voice cracked under the weight of her anger, but she took a huffing breath and continued: “I’m good with numbers. It’s been a while, but I think I can probably still draw the constellations from memory, which should make me decent at navigation. I can—”
“Enough.” Locke’s voice came out in a deep rasp. He captured her long, delicate finger in his fist before she could continue poking him. He felt short of breath at the sight of her—livid and lovely. “Enough.”
The old Locke might have kept arguing, and Roar would have met him toe-to-toe. But if becoming a storm hunter had taught him anything, it was that fighting head-on wasn’t always the way to win. Sometimes strategy was required. He met Duke’s eyes over her shoulder, and if he had thought Roar looked smug before, she had nothing on his mentor. The man raised his eyebrows in a challenge and asked, “You?”
He hated the idea of bringing someone into this dangerous life, but if it was going to happen regardless, he sure as hell wouldn’t hand her safety over to anyone else, not even Ransom. And at the very least, it would give him the opportunity to change her mind. He gritted his teeth and nodded his acceptance.
“Good.” Duke smiled. “Roar, Locke will follow you home and help you get everything you’ll need for the journey.”
Roar had been about to celebrate her victory, but she stopped short. “I don’t need his help.”
He smirked in response. “Then you’re going to be sorely disappointed, princess. Because I’m in charge of your training.”
Her eyes widened. “But … why? You didn’t even want me to come.” She asked Duke, “Can’t I learn from you?”
“It’s me or nothing,” Locke cut in. “Duke is just the mastermind these days. So if he teaches you, you’ll do nothing but pore over maps and measurements.”
She twisted her fingers together, clenching and unclenching them. After a moment, she sighed. “Fine. But I don’t need your help to get my things.”
“Well, you’re getting it anyway.” He stalked toward her and grabbed her elbow. She dug her heels in, and tried to break free.
“I can go without you. I’m not a child in need of a nursemaid.”
“What a coincidence. I’m no nursemaid.”
He gave another tug, and this one got her feet moving. She stopped fighting and said, “Fine. Let go of me.”
He released her as they approached one of the exits that led out of the market. “Don’t bother trying to run. I’ll catch you.”
She gave him a tight smile, her blue eyes blazing. “Why would I do a thing like that?”
She ducked into the dark passageway between the buildings that hid the market, and he followed her into the cramped space.
“Because you can’t help yourself. You have to fight everything.”
He couldn’t see more than her silhouette, but he heard her clearly as she spit back, “Or maybe I just have to fight men who try to bully me into doing as they say.”
He sucked in a breath through his gritted teeth.
“And another thing—” She stepped out of the darkness, and the rest of her words were muffled. He turned sideways and worked to squeeze himself through the narrow opening of the passageway.
He knew something was wrong the moment he emerged. He spun, pulling one of the blades from his hip, but ground to a halt when he saw Roar. She was panting with exertion, and her glare was a dare to say something. Sprawled at her feet was a man groaning in pain. Blood streamed down his face from a broken nose, but his hands were too busy cupping his groin to stem the flow.
“What?” Roar barked. “He tried to rob me.”
Locke lifted his hands, holding back a smile. “You’ll get no complaints from me.” He narrowed his eyes toward the man. He was about as tall as Roar but near double her weight. An impressive takedown. Though in Locke’s opinion, the thief wasn’t in nearly enough pain. “Want to kick him again before I turn him over to the market’s enforcers?” he asked.
Roar’s lips pressed into a line, the edges trembling upward like she fought a laugh. “No. The first kick was hard enough.”