Grow the Bond (Nightstar Book 0)

Chapter 3

Petre had barely slept, constantly replaying what had happened in their mind. So much so that they were up by dawn, waiting for the sun to rise enough to not make barging into Ainreth's tent too unacceptable. Though Petre assumed that no matter what, their timing would be off.

They were more than a little surprised when they arrived, however, only to see that the tent was once more unguarded, and when Petre stuck their head inside of it, Ainreth was sitting at his small desk, writing something down. And yes, it was writing this time, not doodling. Petre was certain. Apparently, the Daybreaker woke up with sunrise. Appropriate, Petre supposed.

"Si—Ainreth." Petre tried not to wince. They would get it right eventually. Ainreth looked up at them, surprise on his face for a second before he seemed to remember why Petre was here.

"Great, you're here!" Ainreth put the quill into the inkpot, bringing Petre's attention back to what Ainreth had been writing. Though they couldn't read the words, they were written in neat lines into what appeared to be a thick, leather-bound book. It looked too heavy and cumbersome to be another journal.

"Nuh-uh, no peeking until it's done," Ainreth joked, shutting the book when he apparently noticed Petre's interest.

Petre frowned. Perhaps since Ainreth himself had brought it up, they should ask? "Um, what is it?"

Ainreth wiggled an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you like to know? I'm writing a novel, of course."

That was about the last thing Petre would have guessed. They hadn't even been aware that the general could write. Unless he was skipping pages for some reason, he was nearing the middle of the book, which must have been at least two hundred pages. Petre felt morbid curiosity almost overwhelm them at the prospect of seeing what Ainreth had written already.

But they held their curiosity subdued. As much as they wanted to know what was going on here, it was none of their business unless Ainreth wanted to share. Still, they could ask. "About your experiences as a powerful az-ari, I presume?"

Ainreth chuckled, a grin on his face. "I'll have plenty of time to write about that when I'm two hundred years old." He wiggled his finger at Petre. "No, no, this book is about...." Ainreth frowned, narrowing his eyes, his smile gone. "How old did you say you were? This might be too suggestive for your baby ears."

Petre sighed. Of course Ainreth would write about sex. What else would he write about? Petre had no idea how Ainreth was planning on managing to fill so many pages with that, but if anyone could find a way it was Ainreth.

"You speak Orinovan, don't you?"

Petre nodded, not liking where this was going at all.

"Think you could translate this once it's done?"

Petre wanted to say yes, assuming they would get paid for their time fairly, but at the same time, reading smut written by their superior might just be the thing to break them. So instead of just agreeing, Petre decided to do the responsible thing and point out the logical hole in this idea. "I don't think Orinovo would be interested in anything written by an az-ari who defeated them."

Ainreth didn't seem too upset about Petre saying this, shrugging and stroking a hand over the book's cover. Far too slowly. "They don't know what they're missing."

Okay, this was getting uncomfortable. "May I ask why you called me here?"

"Oh yeah, right." Ainreth cleared his throat, his expression growing more serious. "What happened at dinner—I don't like that happening."

Petre had to admit that the way the general tended to speak, while ridiculous, was at least refreshingly simple and direct. "I don't particularly like it either."