“Commander Dagon,” Joral said.
Dagon tapped it. “Yes?”
“Eliana’s weapons are ready.”
“Excellent. We’ll retrieve them before last meal.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dagon checked the time. He could use some exercise after the long hours of inactivity he’d spent today. If he left now, he could train with some of his men before locating Eliana and escorting her to the armory. He grinned. Her appreciation of weapons appeared to rival his own, so he would enjoy seeing her face brighten with pleasure when Joral showed her the blades he had fashioned for her.
Dagon headed down to Deck 2, intending to join one of the units training in Section 2. However, his steps slowed to a halt in Section 1. Backtracking, he peered into one of the smaller training rooms. Maarev, Liden, and Efren were again engaged in battle. That wasn’t surprising since they did so every day. Everyone aboard the Ranasura—even members of the maintenance crew—was required to train frequently to ensure the safety of all on board. But today Eliana lounged on the bench, watching them. Leaning back against the wall, she sat with one leg stretched along the cushions and one leg hanging off, her small booted foot swinging idly as she watched the men fight.
As though sensing his stare, she glanced over at the doorway.
Dagon’s heart gave an increasingly familiar flutter at the smile that graced her pretty features when she spied him.
“Hi,” she said, her voice full of cheer.
“Hello.” He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “What are you doing?”
“Learning,” she replied, just as she had earlier.
A thud sounded. Someone grunted. Moments later, Liden flickered into view. Bending forward, he clutched his ribs.
Efren laughed.
Eliana grinned and pointed at Dagon. “This time it was his fault, not mine.”
Liden huffed a laugh and winced as he straightened. “Correct.”
Amusement trickled through Dagon as he assessed Eliana. “Have you been distracting my soldiers while they train?”
“Yes, I have,” she admitted without shame.
“Intentionally?”
“Yes.”
“For what purpose?”
“Learning.”
He expected her to say more, but the one-word answer seemed to satisfy her. “Would you care to take a break? I believe Joral has some weapons for you to inspect.”
Eyes widening, she sat up straighter. “Weapons? What weapons? My weapons?” she asked quickly.
“Yes.”
Leaping to her feet, she punched the air above her head. “Yes! Woo-hoo! See ya later, boys. Joral has some goodies for me.”
Dagon couldn’t help but grin at her almost childlike excitement.
The other men smiled and shook their heads, not just because her love of weapons entertained them but because she looked as though she had seen far fewer solar cycles than they had, yet she referred to them as boys.
As soon as she reached Dagon, Eliana grabbed his arm and tugged him out into the hallway. “Did he mention which weapons he finished?” she asked, practically bouncing on her toes as she urged him down the corridor. “Or weapon singular? Is it the katana? I hope it’s the katana. Or maybe the shoto swords. Or—”
He grinned, finding her joy contagious. “He didn’t say.”
“Walk faster!” she commanded brightly. “Come on. Step to it. Your legs are a lot longer than mine, so I know you can do it. Go! Go! Go!”
Dagon laughed. She was so drekking adorable. And so full of life and joy despite the month of agony and fear she had suffered. “I don’t wish to outpace you.”
“You can’t. I’m faster than I look. Get moving, handsome.”
Handsome? Did she really think so?
Shaking his head at himself, he increased his speed.
Eliana easily matched it.
He lengthened his stride and picked up his pace even more.
Eliana kept up, not appearing to struggle in the least.
Curious to see how fast would be too fast for her, he increased his speed even more. By the time they reached the armory, passing multiple soldiers and crew members who stopped to gawk at them with wide eyes, he was walking as swiftly as he could without breaking into a jog. And Eliana remained at his elbow, never faltering.
Considering how much shorter her legs were, Dagon found it baffling. And entertaining as srul. It reminded him of the days in his youth when his mother had instructed him and his brother not to run and they had competed to see who could reach their destination the fastest without disobeying her.
Though Dagon had worked hard to become the commander of his own ship, he sometimes found the long stints in which his daily routine didn’t change… dare he say boring?
Not with Eliana aboard though.
Smiling, he glanced down at her lovely face. A flush of excitement adorned her pale skin as stray wisps of black hair escaped her long braid and danced on the breeze their rapid pace created.
No. Boredom was the last thing he felt now.
Eliana burst into the armorers’ workroom and skidded to a halt.
Heads jerked up. Gazes latched onto them.
Beside her, Dagon chuckled.
Her heart pounded wildly against her rib cage as she looked up at him. And it wasn’t a result of their brisk walk. He was so damned handsome… especially while he wore the boyish grin their unofficial race had spawned.
“You appear to love weapons as much as I do,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
She grinned. “If that’s true, then you love them a hell of a lot.” Turning to the men who were seated at stations, repairing or cleaning weapons, she tossed them a wave. “Hi, guys! How’s it going?”
They looked at each other.
“How is what going?” one asked.
She shrugged. “Your day. Your work shift. Life. I don’t know. You choose.”
He nodded. “All is going well, ni’má.”
“Happy to hear it.” She turned to face the design area and—as eager as a child on Christmas morning—skipped over to the chief weapons designer. “Jor-al,” she sang.
Joral turned.
“Dagon said you have some goodies for me.”
He smiled as she approached. “Indeed I do, Eliana.” Reaching beneath a counter, he collected what reminded her a little of an area rug that had been rolled up. Placing it atop his design table, he unrolled the fabric.
A dozen throwing stars came into view first, glinting in the overhead light. He revealed two sheathed daggers next, then a pair of shoto swords, a couple of sais with grips that would fit her hands perfectly, and not one but two katanas.
“Ooooooh,” she breathed reverently, her fingers itching to grab them. She had expected one or two weapons, not all of them. How the hell had he finished this many so quickly?
She dragged her gaze away from the gleaming metal and looked up at Joral. “You crafted them all from mlathnon or alavinin?” Though she had dedicated much of the day to swiftly learning the Segonian language, she was pretty sure she slaughtered the pronunciation of both metals.
“Yes, ni’má. Every blade you see here can repel blasterfire.” The slightest shake of his head indicated he still thought her batty for believing she could fight off someone with an energy blaster while armed only with blades.