Roark removed his ax from the sheath on his back and handed it to me. One brow curved. “What—” I was unaccustomed to being interrupted by a man who did not speak, but Roark used his hands to command an interaction as fiercely as Baldur used shouts to overpower. He spoke one word, a gesture Emi had taught us on the ship—knowledge. “Do I know how to use it? I’m not as skilled as a Stav, but I can throw one. Might even know how to slit a throat if you’d like to test it.” Roark made a breathy sound.
He likes her already
