Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith #1)(26)

Petrik has sausages sizzling over a frying pan, eggs scrambled from a nearby pheasant nest I spotted, and mint tea boiling in no time. His cooking skills weren’t exaggerated.

Kellyn bites into some fire-heated toast, before asking, “What exactly is the connection between you all? You’re sisters, right? Your faces have the same shape. But who’s this guy to you?”

Petrik introduces himself. “I’m working on a book, exploring the known magics of the world. Miss Ziva is kind enough to answer questions about her specialty on the road.”

“And you’re wearing a dress because…?”

Petrik glares at the man. “These are robes. I was trained at the Great Library of Skiro. And I’ll have you know I am a leading expert on ancient magics.”

“And just how many people are in your field?”

The faintest red hue appears on Petrik’s brown cheeks. “I don’t recall the exact number.”

“You sure? Because I’d bet you could count them on one hand.”

I intervene. “You’re being awfully rude.”

I regret the words instantly, because Kellyn turns those big brown eyes on me, making my heart do a traitorous flip. “Being nice costs extra.” He offers me a small grin. “I’m kidding. The man talks a big game; I just wanted to know how much of an expert we were dealing with. Sounds to me like someone just has a big head.”

“Says the man who named his sword Lady Killer,” Petrik grumbles.

Kellyn gives the scholar a startled look.

“You mumbled it several times in your sleep. Didn’t take long for me to realize you meant your weapon. Ridiculous name.”

“Now, there’s no need to go insulting another man’s sword. Lady Killer will be far more useful to us on the road than your books.”

“I’m going to stop you both right there,” Temra says. “Ziva and I acknowledge that you’re both big important men. Now eat your food.”

Petrik doesn’t take his eyes off the mercenary. “Maybe if the brute could read, he wouldn’t be so dismissive of—”

“I can read just fine,” Kellyn says. “And I can swing a sword. One might say I have double your talents.”

“When you’re not passed out drunk,” I mumble.

Kellyn shifts his gaze from the scholar to me. Before he can say another word, I rise and dust off my palms. “Ten more minutes before we depart, and you two better play nice.”

Petrik heads for the stream to wash the dishes, his nose up in the air. Temra loads up Reya. Kellyn stretches out his cramped muscles.

And I leave. I put distance between myself and all the other people.

Because there’s nothing I want more than ten minutes of alone time.





CHAPTER

EIGHT



I spend ten blissful minutes feeling safe. Ten minutes where I don’t have to worry that I’ll say something stupid to embarrass myself. Where I don’t have to deal with the sharp pains in my chest that come from being around Kellyn Derinor.

It’s not enough.

I want a day to myself. A day to recharge and relax without having to worry about any of the people around me. Not to mention the fate of Ghadra should this sword fall into the wrong hands.

But I don’t get what I want. What my body so desperately needs.

“Remind me again why you said we couldn’t travel on the road?” Kellyn asks the next day.

“We didn’t,” Temra answers.

“Right. Well, consider this me asking. Why aren’t we traveling on the road?”

“You’re not being paid to know things. You’re being paid to swing your sword,” I say.

“All right, bladesmith,” he says, raising his hands in defense. “I see your identity isn’t the only thing you like to keep secret.”

“Not my fault you didn’t automatically assume I was the smithy when you walked into the shop.”

“I thought the most talented bladesmith in all of Ghadra would be an older woman. Someone who had time to build a reputation and hone her skills.”

“Still not my fault.”

“You didn’t have to lead me astray so blatantly! And blowing me off? What was that—revenge?”

I shrug, because talking to him has my body temperature rising to uncomfortable levels. I don’t think I can manage another word. The only thing that’s allowed me to talk this long is not being cornered in a room with him, and I’m keeping my eyes on the ground beneath my feet.

“Okay,” Kellyn says at my silence. “It was my fault, and I deserved to be blown off. I’ll agree with you there. You keep your secrets and leave the sword swinging to me.” He resumes his position at the head of our party.

“Do you think we can keep trusting him?” I ask Temra quietly.

“The warlord can’t have gotten to him before us. I think as long as he doesn’t interact with anyone on the road, we should be fine.”

We both go still as pounding hooves sound to our left. Peering through the trees, Temra and I watch as a rider in a red tunic goes by at a breakneck pace.

He’s wearing Kymora’s sigil.

We freeze to the spot, not daring to breathe even once the rider is out of sight.