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Emmet of Fenrigh
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Emmet sighed. Third Company of the King's Own had been in the small coastal village of Frog Hollow for nearly a month and a half. There, under the command of Lord Raoul, they worked a little, rebuilding the town that had been destroyed in a hurricane, and rested a lot. Now one of the soldiers had bought him a local girl who was doubled over in pain. Emmet had to fight hard, but the teenage girl survived her miscarriage.
The soldier's face was riddled with guilt. That told Emmet more than he wanted to know; the soldier was the baby's father.
He left the infirmary tent, disgusted.
Outside, Emmet met a blue-eyed man who was practically dragging along a lady squire.
"Emmet, be a good lad and fix this crazy lady's hands up, will you," Sergeant Domitan said, pushing Keladry forward. As she scowled at Dom, Emmet examined her hands. They were bruised and slightly bloody, as if they'd been beaten with sticks and stones.
"What happened, Kel?" Emmet asked, reaching back into the tent to get some salve and bandages. The girl was still inside, weeping. Her soldier was sitting blankly at her side, holding her hand. Emmet ducked back outside quickly, feeling his anger growing.
"Some people are just not suited to use a hammer," Dom quipped.
"Thank you, Mistress Dom," Kel said, smiling sweetly.
"My pleasure, O graceless one." Kel and Dom both laughed gently.
He likes her, Emmet thought. His mind wandered back to the girl in the tent. She was about Squire Keladry's age. Emmet suddenly felt an urge to pin Dom against a tree and make him promise to keep his hands to himself.