She could see the edge of a smile creep into his mouth. He poured himself a bowl of the steaming soup and sat across from her. After a moment they had relaxed enough to talk and smiled a little. Zanna needed it. She needed to laugh. She needed to push away the face of the dying men. The men she had killed.
“Rest,” Javaid said after a moment. “I’ll take watch.”
“What about you?” she asked as she yawned.
“I’m not tired,” he told her.
“Well, if you do begin to tire, come to bed,” she began and then realized what she had said. “What I meant was…”
“I know what you meant, Zanna,” he stifled a laugh.
Zanna had never felt uncomfortable around Javaid. They had been friends for so long, and he had so many admirers that she had long removed any thoughts of them being anything more. They had sle
