Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(41)

She looks heavenward. “The pretty ones are always taken. I’ll be right back with that water.” She glides toward the kitchens, as though the conversation hasn’t hurt her ego one bit.

My mind has so many thoughts running through it, I can barely snatch them out to examine one at a time.

Why is he telling everyone I’m his sister?

Why did he tell the girl he wasn’t available?

And how is he already taken? Did he meet some girl in Ravis’s dungeon?

That’s ridiculous and you know it, Ziva.

Did he find the time to romance someone in the brief moments we were apart in Skiro’s castle?

Also super unlikely.

Then he must have lied.

But why bother? Does he not find her attractive? And if so, how did he ever find me attractive? Because I’m certainly not as stunning as she is.

There’s obviously something wrong with him.

I shove food into my mouth as I continue to mull this over. When the server returns with my water, Kellyn doesn’t even spare her a glance. He’s enjoying his food, looking about the inn, the people.

“If this were a normal day for me, I’d be trying to find work,” he says. “Looking for someone who needs protection on the road.”

“You miss it,” I say.

“A bit,” he admits.

“I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t looking for apologies. Just making conversation.”

“Then why don’t you make conversation tonight? At ten? With her?” I point with my eyes at the server who walks by and curse myself for ever opening my mouth.

Why don’t I just tell him outright that I’m a jealous idiot who needs to get a handle on her feelings?

The innkeeper stops Kellyn from answering and spares me further mortification by saying, “The bath is ready.”

I snatch the key from his lowered hand, ditch the rest of my dinner, and run upstairs as though my life depends on it.

The room is much smaller than I expected. The tub barely fits at the foot of the two beds, which might as well be one bed with the mere foot of space between them. I have to squeeze between the tub and the wall just to be able to shut the door.

I lock it, undress, and climb into the tub, trying my hardest to forget the stupid thing I just did.

I last about two seconds.

Why didn’t Kellyn accept the pretty girl’s invitation? Maybe he wants some alone time, but if that were the case, then why did he want to eat dinner surrounded by strangers? I dunk my head below the surface of the water and hold my breath.

Why did I have to ask him about it? Now he knows I’m thinking about him and his romantic exploits.

My lungs burn, so I come up for air. When I’m done, I scrub my clothes clean and hang them up to dry on the footboard of my bed. I slide into the nightgown, courtesy of the inn, left on my bed. As I run my fingers through my short hair, I wonder what the odds are that Kellyn will take his time with dinner.

A heavy fist hits the door in quick succession, causing me to jump.

But I don’t make a sound, hoping whoever it is will go away.

“Ziva, you took the only key.”

Oh, right.

I unlock the door before sitting back on the bed.

If I weren’t still so panicky about my earlier comment, I’d probably find it funny watching Kellyn trying to squeeze into the room. It takes him a couple tries to get the door shut, and he nearly falls over while taking off his boots.

“Would you rather wait up here or downstairs while I bathe?” he asks. His voice has a strange edge to it. I cannot place his mood.

More important, though, I don’t know the answer to his question. Downstairs there are people. Up here there is a naked Kellyn.

“I’m in a nightgown,” I say, as though that’s any answer or explanation.

“Then why don’t you turn around?”

Still sitting upright, I shift my body to face the small window in the room.

Where I can see Kellyn’s reflection.

I snap my eyes closed as I hear clothing start to drop. Water splashes. And I think I might stop breathing.

If I thought the earlier conversation was bad, this is much, much worse. I should have left. I should have gone downstairs no matter what I was wearing. Maybe my food is still on the table, not that I have any appetite anymore.

“What’s the matter, Ziva?” he asks as I hear the soap scrape against his skin.

“Can we not talk right now?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re naked.”

“So? My mouth still works.”

“Well, mine doesn’t.”

My eyes fall open for just a moment, and they connect with Kellyn’s in the reflection of the window.

I think I might go up in flames as I snap my gaze shut once more.

“I wondered if you’d peek. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“I can’t see anything important. You’re—you’re in a tub!”

He laughs, and I don’t know why that only sets me more on edge.

But then he stands, and I can hear the water running down his skin, hear the towel scratch against his hair, hear his heavy tread. Feel the heat of his body as he grabs the nightgown off his own bed.

When the opposite bed creaks from the weight of him, I relax my eyelids finally.