Steelhands (2011) by Jaida Jones, Danielle Bennett Page B

suddenly showing interest. I knew that tone all too well, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
    “Go file your notes,” I told him in no uncertain terms.
    Radomir made a sharp, pained noise, but at least he had the sense to do as he was told.
    “Anyway, the reason I’m here is, I wanted to ask you about something,” Laurence said, as Radomir shuffled off, probably feeling extremely sorry for himself in the process. If it’d really been important to him, he would’ve stayed and fought for it. Civilians took orders too easily or not at all.
    “Go right ahead,” I told her. “But I was serious about the rules here, which means you don’t need to bring your parasol to class or anything.”
    “Parasol,” Laurence said, and snorted. “More like an umbrella and a tarp, with all that mud you were talking about.”
    I should’ve known she wasn’t a parasol type. I felt pretty close to ashamed and shrugged my apology. “That’d be more useful,” I admitted. “Now. About that question.”
    She shifted the weight of her books from one arm to the other andtapped her boot against the floor. I noted a strange smell suddenly—it reminded me of the Rue after a holiday night, when everyone had been up late drinking and leaving sour little presents all along the cobbles for those who were up early the next morning—but I didn’t know where it was coming from, and making a face while talking to a young lady was never considered good manners. “So you were Chief Sergeant of the Dragon Corps, right?” Laurence asked finally. “That’s what you said at the beginning of the class.”
    “Either that, or having some trouble with my memory,” I replied. I hated that question, but I was man enough to weather it. If not now, then when would I get my sorry self over it?
    “Rode a dragon and all?” she asked, eyes getting keen.
    “Only when the bell rang,” I said.
    “Heard you rode Proudmouth,” Laurence continued. “And she was a crusher, if I know ’em, right?”
    “She was,” I confirmed.
    Laurence nodded, not looking pleased with herself, just thinking hard. “But crusher or not, they all breathed their share of fire, right?”
    “Most compact form of long-distance firepower we had,” I explained. “The fire was offensive primarily, but defensive as well. If any of our girls hadn’t been able to breathe fire, or if something’d jammed up the works—lost a man that way once, and I’m not proud of it—then she’d be dead in the air, and her rider along with her.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” Laurence said. “But if you were riding on top of these big metal girls like they were horses only larger and more dangerous, and they were breathing fire all over and everywhere in the heat of battle, I’ve always wondered … How was it your clothes never caught on fire? Pants, specifically. I’d imagine with them up against all that hot metal it couldn’t’ve felt too nice, now could it?”
    “
Enough
, Laure,” her companion said suddenly. In truth, I’d forgotten all about him. But there he was, reaching out and grabbing her arm and trying to pull her bodily toward the door. “We’re so sorry to have bothered you with our technical questions, Chief Sergeant—Professor—but we’ll leave you to your business now. Thank you very much. Good day.”
    “To
verre,
” Laurence said. “Stop that at once; he was
going
to answer! How did your pants not catch on fire, Sergeant Adamo?”
    “Simple enough,” I said. “It’s because I wasn’t a liar.”
    Both Laurence and her friend stared at me for a long moment. Then, out of nowhere, Laurence burst into laughter while her friend continued his efforts to tear her away with renewed vigor.
    “That’s a good one,” Laurence said. “I guess it’s His Highness’s royal secret, then, and you’re not allowed to tell me?”
    Somehow, something about leaving her with that impression rubbed me the wrong way.
    “Had a saddle,” I said,