Chapter 135: Squirt Flirting

The next time Squirt attended the mid-morning training, she managed to avoid being the star pupil for Instructor Hawke to use for his demonstrations, the drills ones that were now familiar to those involved. The greenlings had been by themselves so far, doing slow dodging and parrying drills in neat little rows, each with a determined jut to their jaw that Squirt found strangely endearing.

Squirt watched their attempts from the shadow of the wall, observing. Not being here daily, she’d been worried about the greenlings, even if she’d never voice it. But unlike the barks and orders the instructors gave the Guard, they’d learned to gentle their words and tones into quiet murmurs and corrections. In turn, the greenlings were responding with their signature work ethic, throwing their all into their training.

Instructor Hawke’s bushy mustache twitched in delight as he beamed down with fatherly pride at the small army of greenlings.

If anything, it was a little frustrating how well many of the greenlings were taking to weapons training. Her own training had been slowed, first by her recovery that had left her practically bedridden for months, which had compounded with her small size and weak musculature—something the Sia-bitch had only made worse over time, wanting a weak, helpless pet entirely reliant on her.

The progress that had taken Squirt almost two years under Stalf was being achieved by those here in a month. Already they were respectably competent in the basics.

Squirt had no doubt that in a year or five, several of them would eventually outpace her. Her natural size was at a distinct disadvantage even amongst greenlings. She had tenacity and experience, but several of the greenlings were showing innate talent Squirt lacked.

Spark was one, his grit and tenacity enough to rival Squirt, an aggression to his moves that was tempered by the caution of spending his entire life ducking and dodging. Puff wasn’t much of a fighter, but he had an airy quality to his movements that made it hard to predict where he would land, making him a natural at dodging every blow sent his way. Tater was really awful with knives and facing fey head on, but quickly becoming the best shot they had besides Squirt herself.

In another twenty years, she doubted there would be any physicality they couldn’t best her on.

Though then again, being as small as she was, she had a minor advantage of being that much harder to hit, so long as she could leap far enough out of the way, so she could cling to that superiority.

Something she’d always thought was a flaw, oddly enough.

Regardless, physicality of any type wasn’t her biggest strength. It had always been her smarts that got her respect amongst the greenlings, and that was something that no amount of training on their end could ever touch.

Pakos sidled up alongside her. She might have grimaced, as fey all around the Keep loved admiring him, which drew attention to her, but honestly she was finding it harder and harder to not find herself the center of attention wherever she went regardless of the hound’s presence.

The redcaps weren’t helping.

Someone’s looking a little, shall we say, green around the edges?

Fuck off, Pakos.

His ears twitched, his amusement lighting up the bond between them. Here they come.

Crunching boots on sandy dirt proceeded the Guard’s return from their jog, and a flicker of something drew her eyes when she realized that the redcaps had joined the Guard on the run.

Including Qzi.

Clearly a little breathless, his dark hair glistening with sweat and highlights of red glinting in the bright fall sun, Squirt found herself strangely… wanting to go to him. They’d gone from spending most hours together to barely seeing each other even in passing, after all, with the greenlings no longer needing round-the-clock guard and Qzi needing to keep the redcaps in line.

She’d missed him.

It didn’t help that his shirt was nowhere to be found. Smaller than other redcaps he might be, his lithe musculature was on full display.

She didn’t need to look at Pakos to know the hound was greatly amused by her internal conflict. He helpfully moved to her other side, leaving nothing between her and the growing crowd.

Qzi trotted into the training yard with the rest of the runners, scanning the area. Once he spotted her, he grinned brightly, racing over before skidding to a stop on his knees before her.

Her own narrowed, though her hands twitched at her side with an old urge to, of all things, touch him. Just a hand on his shoulder, or—

Nope. She was losing her mind.

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She still took a half step closer to him, and while she did not smile, neither did she scowl. “You are taking the redcaps running with the Guard?”

“Well yeah, pricklebear.”

“Hm.”

“We’re also joining the training to spar with your people.” He waved his hand behind him, and she could see that the other redcaps were already starting to pair up, shooting dark, nearly territorial looks at certain members of the Guard she knew were trouble.

Still, she couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

He grinned, his fists on his hips, his back straight and proud. “Why, to be friends first! First, we become their friends, then we keep them safe.”

Slowly shaking her head in disbelief, she said, “I have no idea where you got that idea.”

He shrugged with a grin. “It was how we became friends.”

Her expression flattened, questioning the assertion that they really were just friends. Based on the happy expression on his face, he was happy with the outcome of them being just friends.

And so was she. Totally. Absolutely. He didn’t look like something she’d like a taste of.

She was so fucked.

A redcap? Really?

A redcap, really?

Fuck off, Pakos.

Turning her attention back forward, Squirt covered for herself by muttering, “Whatever.”

He didn’t move.

After a long, awkward pause, Squirt eventually grunted out, “Do you want something?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Be my practice partner?”

She considered it.

“Fine,” she said in a bored tone, pushing off the wall and trotting back into the open, mentally schooling her face to not let on she’d been actively checking him out.

Qzi pumped his fist in victory before spinning and racing after her.

Much like previous training sessions, the same awkward teenager hesitantly offered her two training daggers, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed despite towering over Squirt.

Oddly enough, she could recognize the look in the kid’s eyes.

Nervous reverence.

Which made no sense, not when he was clearly going to be a powerful fey on his own. Once he came into his power, anyway.

Regardless, she didn’t trust it.

Squirt gave him a polite bow before trotting away to get her own damn daggers. There was still a chance there was some nasty curse or something on the blades he had offered her. That the reverence in his eyes was an act. It made more sense to Squirt that it was an act than genuine, her supposed fan club notwithstanding.

Ah, the bliss of ignorance.

Sorting through the pile took a few minutes, so as Squirt made it back to Qzi, the rest of the pairs had already lined up for the first drill.

They took up stances across from each other. This was easy. No attraction, no lingering glances, no complex emotions, just the pure thrill of a fight she would be hard-pressed to win.

“Begin.”

Much like they had for months while traveling, they danced together. This time, his style of fighting was entirely counter to his style against the bigger, stronger opponent—now he had reversed it, acting as the bigger, stronger opponent and trying out moves on her. Something that had never before stuck out in her mind.

Halfway through, the epiphany hit her—he was studying her. Trying out the moves he knew would be used on him just to see what she’d do. Stunned, she stuttered in her movements, and an attack that she should have been able to easily dodge hit her hard on the clavicle.

She winced, the blunt edge dulling the pain into a nasty bruise—

He dropped his blades, falling to his knees in the middle of the gods damned practice yard, and placed one hand on her shoulder where he hit, the other wrapping around her back to hold her in place.

She froze, staring at the absolute concentration with none of the usual character. No flair. No cry of, “Pricklebear!”

Instead, he simply murmured, “Hold still.”

Squirt froze in place, watching him with eyes widened in surprise, unused to seeing this more serious side of him as he carefully tended to the minor injury.

She had never really considered the redcap ability to heal as one of their defining traits. He was keeping the blood flowing, fixing the ruptured capillaries that had been forming a significant bruise on her shoulder.

Tender was not a word she would have used to describe him an hour ago, but it was the best word she had now.

Instructor Hawke’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts, causing a rapid deepening of the blush at having been caught red-handed checking out the gods damned redcap—“You alright there, lass?”

Her voice cracked a little as she said, “Fine,” and her cheeks darkened further at the slip, especially because it drew Qzi’s eyes up from his task, and for some reason his pale skin and bloodred eyes were just especially pretty in that light, and had she really never realized—

Dryly, Instructor Hawke drawled out, “Flirting, I see.”

Fury and flustered embarrassment warred for dominance on Squirt’s face as a slow grin spread across Qzi’s. A slow, malicious grin. She scowled at him, and he returned to his task with a smug ass smirk, focusing on her shoulder.

Instructor Hawke sighed. “Can she continue?”

Qzi nodded. “Almost done.”

Crossing his arms as he watched, he finally said, “I’ve never seen a redcap heal before.”

Really? Because they healed themselves all the time.

Qzi hummed. “It needs control, making it the perfect practice.”

His eyes gleamed with entirely too much enthusiasm when he said that.

She narrowed her eyes, knowing as she did that more than a few fey enjoyed consensual pain as its own form of pleasure, often separate from the sexual kind. Though Qzi hadn’t explicitly offered that, she could tell he wasn’t against it, either.

Instructor Hawke tactfully gave the pair space, wandering amongst the other ranks waiting for the next drill callout and gently correcting greenling stances.

Relieved to no longer be the center of the instructor’s attention, Squirt waited, studying the concentration in the redcap’s furrowed brow. He finally pulled his magic and hands away from her shoulder with a grin and a wink, back to his regular self. “Good as new, Pricklebear.”

Squirt rotated her shoulder, surprised to find that indeed, the pain had mostly dissipated, and the bruise—while present—would be minor rather than major. It wasn’t quite as potent as a true healing spell or potion, but…

She glanced at Qzi out of the corner of her eye, her mind turning. Wondering if Jezalin might be willing to consider training Qzi. Maybe even the other redcaps.

It certainly wouldn’t hurt, not with healing potions already running low. She’d seen the stockpiles.

The redcap’s hands off of her, Squirt pushed those thoughts aside, taking up her blades once more. Qzi grinned, bouncing to his feet, his own blades out and ready for the next drill. Instructor Hawke gave them both a nod.

They took their stances, returning to the drills alongside everyone else, and Squirt blissfully forgot about the whole event.