Kire laughed. “No, you earned a day off from yelling and nagging. And I’ll spar with her tomorrow, but not tonight. I’m restless but not restless enough to bother changing into proper fighting gear and go out in the snow for a mock battle.” She kept drinking as she listened to him, and when he talked about being homesick, she set down her mug. “I know a little bit how that feels. Felt it a bit three months ago.” She vaguely remembered drunkenly star-gazing while lying down on Ysaryn’s lap. “Nothing quite makes you feel so small as looking up at a totally unfamiliar sky, doesn’t it?” 

She grinned when he said he was glad she had survived. “That makes two of us,” she said, leaning back on her chair, crossing her legs. “And don’t worry. I doubt you would be the first target of anger if I died back there. There’s a perfectly good set of Gemini heads that would serve as lovely targets of their rage.” She looked solemnly at the Ring in her hand. “I get the shell-shock. That’s how I felt, too, the first time I used this Ring. And a few more times after that.” She took up her mug again, thoughtful as she sipped the last of it. 

“I remember reeling after the attacks at the Capital. There were days on end where we were just on the defensive as we retreated. Assassination attempts, too. Somehow, we survived all that. And then there was this day of calm and I just,” she gestured with her other hand, “it felt like a dream, didn’t quite know what to do with myself, after weeks, a month? Months of what seemed like endless fighting.” She grimaced, going red. “Ended up in bed with someone and regretting it a little. It wasn’t particularly good.” She took a swig, then realized she had already drained her mug, and went even redder.