My eyes shoot open and I find him so close, closer than he was before when I was admiring him. He eyes my lips meaningfully, as though asking for permission.

For one second, I think to nod my assent.

But then I remember that Temra and Petrik are just a few feet away. He can’t possibly kiss me when they’re right there.

So I feign misunderstanding. I smile at him before stretching and sitting up.

It doesn’t escape my attention that I was going to let him kiss me if Temra and Petrik weren’t right there. It’s a sobering thought. One that makes me want to get far away from the mercenary.

Coward that I am, I walk over to Temra and rub her shoulder.

“We should get going,” I say once she stirs.

Petrik is still fast asleep, so she reaches over and drags a finger gently down his nose before tapping his lips.

I look away, blushing. How can she be so direct with her flirting? I don’t care if it’s meaningless or if she’s got feelings for the scholar. Either way, she never seems to care if she has an audience—no matter what it is.

I wish I had her fearlessness. I wish I could rid myself of the sinking sensation that feels like falling whenever I’m on display. I wish it didn’t become hard to breathe when someone new wants to strike up a conversation. I wish I wasn’t helpless in a crowd. I wish my body didn’t dictate how I’m supposed to react to things. That I could just tell it, Behave, and it would listen.

I wish I could separate myself from the fear, to learn who I truly am.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

When Kellyn announces that we’ve arrived at the village, I’m confused. The landscape looks exactly the same as it has for the last week or so. Beautiful forest country. Wild greenery. Small mammals and birds.

But then Kellyn points to something.

A fence post.

And farther ahead, horses grazing.

Kellyn mentioned that the village consisted of nothing but farming families, but I hadn’t quite imagined this. Log cabin–style homes, acres and acres between lots. Trees in every yard. Children playing outdoors. Men and women working with plows and hoes on their land.

Everyone wants to talk. Kellyn is easily recognized, and he takes the time to converse briefly with his neighbors.

After the fourth visit, I whisper harshly, “Isn’t it better if no one knows you’re visiting?”

“Who are they going to tell? Most of the people here have never left the village. They’ll live their whole lives here and die here.”

That silences me. For now.

When Kellyn says we’re nearing his family’s home, he adds, “Please don’t say anything about our troubles. I don’t want to worry them. You’re all friends I’m bringing home for a visit.”

“Do you usually bring friends over for a visit?” Petrik asks.

“No.”

“Then I’m sure this will go splendidly.”

Before the mercenary can respond, a shout of “Kellyn!” reaches us in a birdlike tone.