“You survived the fight,” he observed. “I did!” Celine said. “Sunin let me kill a man.” Styke sat up, sending Celine tumbling to the grass. “What?” he asked flatly. Celine righted herself, then nodded emphatically. “I held the lance and everything. I put it through his freckled cheek and watched his brains come out the other side. It was gross.” Styke got to his feet, ignoring Ibana’s chortle, and searched around for Sunin. He didn’t have to look far. She was a stone’s throw away, tending to her horse. “What the pit, Sunin!” he shouted. “You took her into battle? You let her kill someone?”
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