Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith #1)(27)

“What are we looking at?”

We both jump into the air as Kellyn puts his head right between us, peering through the foliage.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Who are you running from?” he asks.

“No one.”

“Is it a love match?”

“What?” Temra asks before I can.

“Between one of you and the scholar. Are you running away because your parents want you to marry someone old and sickly?”

“No!” I shriek.

“Right. Look at the state of his robes. He doesn’t look like he could afford a wife.”

“Hey!” Petrik protests.

But Kellyn talks right over him. “Is he really a monk, then? Are you off to join him in a life of celibacy to escape the old and sickly man?”

“By the Twins, no!” Temra says.

“There is no old and sickly man!” I say. “What is the matter with you?”

“I am not celibate!” Petrik shouts.

We all turn to him, and I suspect his cheeks are warming.

“Not that I’m with anyone—right now, I mean—I just—” He cuts himself off and turns away.

The mercenary lets out a chuckle at Petrik’s expense. “If you don’t tell me what’s really going on, then all I can do is guess. And by the way, if I end up having to fight some brute that one of you is betrothed to, that’s going to cost you extra. I’m here for protection against bandits. Not lovers.”

“Now he’s a brute?” I ask. “What happened to him being old and sickly?” Then I mentally rebuke myself for engaging with him.

Kellyn turns to me and grins. Actually grins. Like he couldn’t be more thrilled that I’m playing along with him.

“Never mind. I take it back. Don’t answer that,” I say. The longer he looks at me, the more uncomfortable I feel. Not because I feel threatened by him, but because I don’t like being looked at by anyone. Being on display has always been Temra’s thing. She’s the one who likes to star in city plays, to take center stage during a dance, or be in the middle of a group of boys.

I want to be hidden.

I want to feel safe.



* * *



When we break for the night some evenings later, everyone goes to gather firewood, not straying far from camp. I, however, put as much distance as I can between myself and everyone else without being unsafe.

I put my back to a tree trunk, sit on the pine-needle-covered floor, and breathe out more easily. It isn’t quite twilight, but the night bugs are already out in full force, buzzing and niggling around my ears. I raise my hands to block the sounds and close my eyes, pretending I’m home, sitting before the hearth or in my bed or in my forge. Somewhere the rest of the world isn’t.

That’s when I hear footsteps. They’re light, as though trying to be quiet, and that naturally sends my mind spinning with all the possibilities. My eyes fly open as my heart pounds in fear of bandits or Kymora’s men.

It doesn’t slow down when I see it’s the mercenary, carrying a load of firewood he’s gathered.

“Why do you wander off on your own so much?” he asks. “Are you looking for trouble?” He smiles with the question. As though he knows just how attractive he is and he wants me to acknowledge it, too.

I swallow, torn between running and lashing out with words. I do not know this man. I do not trust him. And I don’t want to be alone with him.

Yet, lashing out wins.

“You’ve been with us barely a week. It’s hardly enough to start making assumptions about me.”

“No? Haven’t you already made some about me? All bad ones, I’d wager.”

I despise one-on-one conversations with people I don’t know. I always fidget, worrying I’ll say the wrong thing, embarrass myself tremendously. I barely have time to think over my words before spitting them out.

“You have done nothing to impress me so far.”

“We haven’t run into danger yet,” Kellyn says. Does he realize that the way he’s carrying that stack of wood puts his biceps on perfect display?

Of course he knows. He must know.

“So your fighting skills are the only impressive thing about you,” I say.

His gaze narrows on me, and he drops the stack of wood. Kellyn rises to his full six and a half feet, brushing off bits of bark and dirt from his shirt. He takes a few steps forward.

“Take a look at me and tell me it’s the only impressive thing about me,” he says. His grin is gone, and the look he gives me is a challenge.

My anxiety peaks at his proximity, but underneath it, I think I sense something else, too. I don’t have a name for it, and all I want is for the mercenary to leave me alone.

“I am not impressed by superficial surface looks that are completely out of your control.”

As if sensing how tense I am, Kellyn retrieves the wood and takes a few steps back. “What does impress you, then?”

I’m pushed off-balance by the question. Because the answer is that nothing impresses me. I have never been impressed by someone. Not enough to overpower the fear of being around them in the first place.

“Don’t tell me,” he says with a wink. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

My jaw drops in outrage, but he’s gone before I can say anything else.