Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(55)

My eyes are crusty when I resurface. My limbs ache, and I really need to relieve myself.

But the true tell that I’ve been asleep for a long time is Kellyn sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. He has a book in front of him, and he turns a page idly. He crosses his legs at the ankles in front of him.

“You can read,” I say. My throat sounds croaky from disuse.

Kellyn looks up at me, gives me a smile that warms every part of me, and then sets the book aside. “It’s Petrik’s. The story he wrote about our journey escaping from Kymora.”

“Is it any good?”

“It’s exceptional. He has a real talent for words. Makes us sound much more heroic than we actually are.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, where you’re concerned.”

The mercenary rises to his six and a half feet, treads over to the bed, and sits on the edge of it. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“I’m fine. I’m not the one who was shot. How’s your arm?”

He rolls up his sleeve to reveal a thin white scar. “It’s almost like it was never there. It’s a little stiff, but Serutha says the feeling should go away after a while.”

“I’m so glad. And your ear?”

Kellyn blanches, before hesitantly lifting his hair off the left side of his face.

“It looks good!” I say.

“It looks hideous,” he says, lowering his red locks almost immediately.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. I’m missing half an ear. It doesn’t look right. And I don’t hear quite as well on that side.”

“But the skin is perfectly healed around the cut. You’re going to be okay.”

Kellyn doesn’t say anything, staring at the wall behind me.

“Are you … upset because I’m the reason he hurt you?” I ask hesitantly.

“Twins, no! Ziva, I don’t blame you at all. How could you have known that’s what he would do? You saved me! You got me out of there. You brought me here.”

“Then what is it?”

He sighs. “I’m worried others might look at me differently. That they’ll find me … less.”

“That’s stupid. Nobody would think that. If anything, it’s proof that you’re more. That you survived something horrible and are stronger for it. You’re allowed to feel upset for what happened, but don’t be so hard on yourself. And if anyone treats you any differently, you tell me. I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”

Kellyn’s grin is just a ghost of a smile as he looks down at me. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What if you treat me differently?”

He’s not—he doesn’t seriously think I wouldn’t want him anymore because of it?

“Kellyn,” I ask, “just how vain do you think I am? Just how vain are you?”

“I’m being ridiculous.”

“Yes!”

He nods to himself once, as though satisfied, then gives me a true smile.

And then I really can’t ignore my body any longer.

“Excuse me for a moment.” I rise and go to the washroom, shutting myself in to take care of my basic needs. When done, I spot a hairbrush on the vanity and take the time to run it through my hair. Then I glance in the mirror above the washbasin.

It may be silly, but I haven’t had much time to look at myself over the last few months. It’s not like we had any mirrors on the road or while we were in prison. Kellyn’s mother owned one, but it was mounted on the wall in her bedroom, and it felt impolite to invade her personal space.

My face has bloomed with freckles, more than I’ve ever seen on me. All the travel, which has exposed me to the sun, has caused them to multiply. They’re darker across my cheeks, lighter across my lips. My short hair has lengthened. It’s always grown in quickly. When we fled from Kymora, Temra cut my straight brown hair down to my chin. Now it brushes my shoulders, the ends flipping outward slightly. I used to wear my hair up in a ponytail, but it’s been too short for that for so long. And now I don’t own a band. Maybe I could locate one eventually—Temra doesn’t have any in here.

I’m stalling, I know it. I look into my own blue eyes. It’s all right. There’s nothing to be scared of. It’s just Kellyn.

But he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to talk. And talking is scary.

As if there’s anything further I could do to embarrass myself in front of this man. We’ve been through hell together.

I take a deep breath before leaving.

Kellyn’s not in the room.

Yet, instead of relief, I feel irritation.

I rush for the door and find Kellyn striding away, about fifty feet down the hall.

“Hey!” I shout after him. He stops and turns.

I don’t want to yell this conversation down the hall, so I jog over to him, hating the way he watches me the whole time.

“Why did you leave?” I ask.

“You left first. I assumed you were politely giving me the brush-off.”

“No! I really did have to use the washroom.”

“You took a while.”

“Well, I needed to prepare myself to talk to you first, and then I came out to find you gone.” I realize how stupid that must sound, but it’s too late to take back the words.