Sword and Veil (Everstone Series book 1 preview)

Chapter 8

Eva and Maya stood outside the command tent in the late afternoon sun, waiting for Lucas to finish his meeting with the Lieutenant. Eva attempted to eavesdrop, at the great protest of Maya, but the two leaders spoke in hushed tones. After an hour of waiting, Lucas emerged from the tent. The two turned in unison, a pleading look on Eva's face.

Lucas' posture stiffened as he noticed them waiting, his eyes shifting between hers. Something was wrong and he was trying to protect her from it. Her heart rate climbed, remembering what happened the last time she'd seen that look in his face.

"Back to your tents, both of you. That's an order."

He strode by them. Maya, stunned, turned to leave. Eva chased after him, grabbing his arm.

"Hey!"

"You're out of line, swordsman! Return to your bunk as ordered!"

Lucas stood his ground, his eyes showing no emotion. She didn't hide her defiance, but she got the sense this was a fight she would not win.

"As you say, Chief." She whispered, every ounce of anger evident in her voice.

As she turned and left, blood boiling, she didn't see Maya following her. Lucas was told something– something dire. His intent was to protect her, but to hells with his intentions. She didn't need his rotting protection, and he couldn't just shut her out when he didn't want to deal with reality.

Eva was back in her tent, restlessly shuffling through her belongings. She wasn't doing anything in particular, only satisfying the overwhelming urge to keep her hands and body moving. If she didn't, she would march back to Lucas, or Drax, and say something that would get her reprimanded.

What in the Hells did Drax say

Maya entered the small tent, strolling over to Eva's bed. She sat, looking up at Eva, her eyes instructing her friend to settle down and sit.

Eva complied– with a huff.

"He'll be alright-"

"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!" She shouted, regret clinging to the heels of her outburst.

It wasn't Maya's fault, but she couldn't wrestle the storm in her mind. Lucas had survived dozens of missions, and seen countless battles. She couldn't explain it but something in her mind, something in her soul, said this was different. She held her head in her hands, the rebellious strands of white hair flowing down in gentle waves from her loose bun.

"Hey, Lucas is the best warrior I know." Maya comforted. "Besides, you're assuming it's something bad. He probably got reprimanded for telling you more privileged information or you sleeping in his tent, which was stupid by the way. Hells knows Drax has it out for you."

Eva lifted her head slightly, peering over her fingertips, remembering the swordsman that saw her in his tent.

"Yeah, probably." she breathed.

Heavens help her if he got him in trouble. She remembered Lucas' words, wondering when the uncontrollable defiance in her heart would ease.

She stood, trying to nurse the insatiable desire to keep moving.

"Would you sit down?" Maya scolded. Eva gave her a glare, but complied again with an exaggerated sigh.

"Lucas gets shipped out all the time. What is it that makes this so different?"

"His eyes." Eva whispered.

Maya furrowed her brow. Eva clarified once she saw her confusion.

"When we were little, my father disliked the idea of me spending so much time with someone of a different social class. He used to call them 'the rabble'."