"Who told you that?"
He looked away briefly before returning his gaze to hers. "Endil."
"Your cousin doesn't know half as much as he thinks he does," she said. "That weapon was made by a Dainin Chieftain and given to the High King of Kelsa to use against assassins. That it fell into the wrong hands for a time does not take away from the respectability of its purpose. It has saved many Fairimor lives during the past four hundred years." She paused, trying to gauge his mood. "You used to use it all the time," she added pointedly.
"Well, I don't anymore, okay?"
"Because it was wrought with Ta'shaen?" She knew it sounded more like an accusation than a question, but she didn't care.
"No," he replied evasively. "It's just not much of a challenge anymore."
She heard the lie in his voice but decided not to press the issue further, content that her suspicion about his silence had been correct. He had experienced the surfacing of a Gift of Ta'shaen and was afraid of what it might mean. You should be, she told him silently. Finally, she nodded. "Then at least take your bow," she said, making it clear by her tone that he wouldn't be leaving without it. "And make sure Matail or Hend goes with you."
"I will," he said and jogged up the stairs to his room.
She heard the bang of his closet door and the thump thump of him stomping into his boots. A moment later he reappeared wearing a dark grey-green cloak. He carried his bow in one hand, and had a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. He paused to kiss her on the cheek, then hurriedly slipped out the door.
She noted how he'd deliberately kept his eyes off the dartbow.