Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith #1)(52)

“I’m not the one with magic. You don’t need me. You could have taken Ziva and ran without having to deal with overzealous city folk. You probably would have had plenty of time to even go back for the horse and the supplies before fleeing the city.”

“As if your sister would ever leave without you.”

“You could have lied to her. Told her I was already dead.”

My heart hurts to hear such things, but I realize she’s right. Petrik didn’t have to do any of the things he did.

“It didn’t even cross my mind not to save you,” he says after another beat of silence.

“Smart and kind. Thank you for being you, Petrik.”

I think Temra might start to rise from beside the fire, but Petrik stops her. “You think too little of yourself. Has it ever occurred to you that there’s a reason you love the sword? Maybe you were always meant to protect your sister.” He pauses. “I know who hunts you. I know the warlord was in town. I saw her stop by the smithy. I’d been biding my time, hoping to approach Ziva. You guys left right after a visit from Kymora and went to the tavern. I don’t understand why you’re running, although I imagine it has to do with the fact that Kymora would want to bend your sister to her will. But my point is, I think the Sisters took great care in putting you and Ziva in each other’s lives. Your value is just as important and vital as your sister’s. You are just as special.”

I wish I could see the way they’re looking at each other. Or not looking at each other. I want to read the situation and maybe hug Petrik for saying just the right thing.

And knowing that he’s chosen to stick with us despite knowing who hunts us—and keeping the secret from Kellyn as well—it endears him to me even more.

Without another word, Temra lies back at my side.

I pretend to be asleep.



* * *



We pass many travelers on the road, including—thankfully—a clothing merchant. The second Kellyn spots the tailor, he runs ahead of our group and talks with the man for a while. The conversation ends with Kellyn handing over some coins. The merchant jumps down from his cart, waves away the mercenaries hired to guard his wears, and opens the back of the wagon.

Kellyn climbs in and disappears out of sight.

When he returns some time later, he has several bundles under his arms. He tosses one to each of us.

“They were fresh out of dresses,” Kellyn says to Petrik.

“Oh, har!” Petrik says without humor. He veers off to one end of the road to change while Temra and I take the other.

“He feels bad,” Temra says as she peels off her hideous dress. I know she means Kellyn.

“As well he should,” I say, freeing myself from my own garments.

“He knows he messed up. He’s trying to make things right.”

“He’s going to have to do a lot better than scraps of cloth.”

Although, the clothing is quite good. He didn’t go stingy, choosing durable leather boots and soft cotton tunics. I pull fabric bracers over my wrists for added warmth, and the belt pulls snugly against my waist to keep everything out of the way.

Temra turns to me once she’s done dressing, and her mouth drops open.

“What?” I ask self-consciously.

“Do you see my clothes?” she asks.

“Yes, they’re fine. Why?”

“They’re too big.”

“So? Now’s not really the time to be picky.”

“So, yours fit like a glove! And he chose blue to match your eyes.”

“I’m not following.”

“He sized you up exactly. He obviously has not taken the same care with me.” She grins, as though this means something. “Never mind. Let’s head back.”

When we return, I note that Kellyn has also bought something for himself. He’s in emerald, which looks remarkable with his hair. He likely knows it, too, with the way he smirks at me when he catches me watching.

“You look nice,” he says.

I don’t respond.

Petrik emerges from the trees, dressed in pants and a tunic, like the rest of us. I watch my sister do a double take.

Turns out the scholar had been hiding quite the physique under those robes. You couldn’t really tell in the loose-fitting outfit Volanna had him in for the service, but in regular travel clothes that are just a hair too small for him?

He’s got a fair amount of lean muscle on him. His dark skin looks remarkable against a white tunic and black pants. The tunic parts in the front, showing a little V of skin.

“I don’t suppose you could have found anything bigger?” Petrik asks.

“Self-conscious about your ankles, are you?” Kellyn goads him.

Petrik’s boots cover his ankles, but I suspect the pants don’t go all the way down to his feet.

“You look great,” Temra tells him.

Petrik stops complaining.

That night, when I go to lie on one of the new bedrolls Kellyn purchased for us, I find a bouquet of wildflowers on my pillow.

I turn to Temra. “Did you—”

“Nope.” She smiles to herself.



* * *



I continue to cherish my nightly routine of sequestering myself away. If arriving in the capital will be anything like Thersa, I will get precious little alone time once we’re in another big city.