We were arguing over the necessity of armoring me from the waist down when Rathenridge arrived with his wife’s padded jerkin.
“I see you two have made up.” He glanced between us a few times. Tomas glared at him, but my cheeks warmed beneath his teasing grin.
“Thank you for the jerkin.” I began pulling it on over the mail. I felt as though I carried double my weight in gear already. Thankfully the jerkin weighed less than I expected. I was struggling with the tapes when Tomas approached with a helmet. I eyed the thing warily. “Must I?”
“If you want to keep your head, you will.”
“Are you going to lop it off for her if she doesn’t wear it?” Rathenridge asked as I put the metal can over my head. “That monstrosity is too large for her. She won’t be able to see a thing and we will spend half our time stopping her from running into walls. Here–” He tossed a smaller and lighter helmet to me. “This one is functional and fashionable. I hear it is all the rage to wear helmets like these in the capital this winter.”
“Leave off, Aiden. That thing won’t stop anything. It is too light.”
I ignored him and exchanged the helmets. As I hoped, Rathenridge’s choice didn’t obscure my vision nearly as much.
“I prefer this one.”
I expected Tomas to protest. Instead he demanded, “Why?”
“Visibility, and the weight doesn’t hurt my neck. Besides, it fits the shape of my head better.”
He frowned, but took his choice from where I had set it. “If a head blow kills her, Aiden, I am hunting you down.”
“If a head blow kills her, I suspect you will do more than that,” Aiden replied with surprising severity.
Which helmet would you prefer?
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Today's excerpt is from Duty: a novel of Rhynan.
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