The Silver Siren (Iron Butterfly, #3)(21)

I ran forward and followed behind him. Apparently, Kael’s abrupt attitude and lack of small talk was a family trait.

Every part of my being wanted to ask annoying questions, just to see if he was as calm as his brother. I followed Alek into a plain building that was similar in architecture to the rest of the village. Curtains closed off a wing. Alek pulled the white material to the side, and we ran into Alba just as she was leaving. She leaned over and whispered something to Alek who nodded his head in understanding.

Alba’s piercing gaze caught mine, but I was unable to read her expression as the small woman left us alone.

The room wasn’t fancy. It was filled with brown cots and a small table with a pitcher of water, a bowl, and a lone stool. There were no others in the wing that we were in, and for that I was grateful.

Kael was sleeping on the cot. A white blanket covered him, and he looked so helpless and young. I was taken aback and stared at him for a few minutes just taking him in, trying to figure out what was different.

He wasn’t in his normal black attire, but a simple white robe, which made his tan skin seem pale against his dark hair. I slowly sat down on the wooden stool, being careful to not disturb his sleep. It was odd, I finally decided, to see him so unadorned and without a single weapon. His eyelids flickered and he turned restlessly. Kael was dreaming. I watched him sleep, fascinated by the turn of events. For once, I was able to watch over him.

His strong chin showed just the lightest bit of stubble, and I studied his profile silently, noticing a small scar. I followed the hollow of his neck down to the exposed part of his chest—the part that the shirt didn’t cover up. I’d never been able to see it before, the pale criss-crossing of scars long healed. His body was covered with them. To have so many and still be so young! Some of the scars looked to be years old.

I turned to Alek who was still behind me watching my actions with interest. “How old are these scars?

“Oh, that long one there is probably a few decades old. That was an accident during weapons training. The small moon shaped one is from two years ago where I knicked him during a small scuffle over a game of cards.” Alek answered matter of factly.

“But that can’t be. Wait how old is Kael?”

Alek let forth a loud laugh as if my question surprised and delighted him. “What? Has my brother never told you?”

“No, I never asked because he only looked to be a few years older than me. But these scars on his body!” I reached out to touch Kael’s bare chest and my hand was enveloped by Kael’s large warm one.

“Don’t,” Kael warned. “That tickles.” His deep blue eyes were opened and they were focused on me. His hand had caught mine and pulled it away from his scars. He turned his gaze on his brother and with a firm look warned, “And don’t you tell her.”

By now Alek was coughing as he tried to stop his laughter abruptly. I was slightly annoyed by both of their antics, and by Kael’s sudden burst of energy, and all because of his never telling me his age.

“What’s the big deal?” I asked.

Alek answered, “Apparently, it’s not just women that lie about their age but SwordBrothers as well.”

Kael still hadn’t released my hand. It was now lying wrapped in his on the cot next to him. I could feel the slight tickle of his thumb rubbing the top of my hand. It was a heady feeling, making me slightly distracted which was probably his goal.

“Well then, fine,” I answered back tartly. “How old are you Alek? Since you are his older brother, he can’t be that much younger than you.”

Alek plopped down on the cot next to Kael’s and leaned back on his arms. “I’ll be two hundred come next month.”

“How is that even close?” I stopped and stared at Alek who had quit laughing and was now studying me. “Kael, he can’t be…can he? Then how old are you?” I turned and glared at Kael.

Kael’s hand had stopped stroking mine and he pulled it out of my grip. I felt cold and alone with the realization. I studied Kael but he wouldn’t meet my gaze.

“Kael?” I asked again.

He stood up and took off the white shirt, and I stared again at all of the scars that laid an intricate map across his back. Part of me wished I had time for him to explain every one to me. Kael picked up a neatly folded black shirt and donned it. From under the bed he pulled boots, knives, and more weapons, because he would never be far from a knife. Kael began to prepare himself for battle, dressing the part of the SwordBrother once again. Only I knew that it was going to be a battle of words.

I wouldn’t admit it, but I preferred him in his black attire.

“Kael is a hundred and thirty. Our father was 420 when he passed away. It’s our gift, our longevity. It’s in our blood, and it’s why we make the best guards. We’ve been practicing our techniques for over a hundred years.”

I wanted to kick Kael but settled for shoving him angrily in the side. “How dare you berate me for not being as good as you, when you’ve had a century of training on me?”

I heard a long drawn out sigh from Kael and then heard him mutter a single word. “Women.”

“Are you sure he’s not five? Because he sure is acting like a child right now,” I grumbled under my breath.

Alek sat up and motioned for me to follow him out of hearing range from Kael. We stepped just outside the curtain so Kael could finish dressing without an audience.