“No.”

“Say it, or I’ll tell Kellyn I saw you ogling him.”

I glare at her. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I? The days are sure to grow long and boring. I could really use the—”

“Kellyn,” I say through gritted teeth. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Good,” she says enthusiastically. Like I’m some small child who’s accomplished a feat far greater than my size would allow. “Now, some follow-up questions. Where did you grow up? Why did you decide to become a mercenary? Do you have any family? Go on, say them.”

Though in a foul temper, I repeat after her. “Why are you making me do this?”

“Because you’re terrified of talking to people. Sometimes knowing what to say ahead of time helps.”

I feel my brow furrow. “You do this? Think over what you’re going to say ahead of time?”

“If it’s a boy I’ve got my sights set on? Always.”

“I don’t have my sights set on him! I was just admiring him—and it was only for about two seconds!”

“Never mind that. Now we will both have something to occupy ourselves tomorrow.”

“What do you mean? What are you going to be doing?”

“Flirting with Petrik, of course.”

I brush the dirt from my hands. “I didn’t think he was your type.”

“He’s not, but he’s not showing the slightest interest in me, and I’m taking that as a challenge. Besides, you should be thanking me. I’m distracting him from asking you questions about his book.”

“I should be questioning Petrik about magic to figure out ways to destroy the sword. Not flirting with the mercenary!”

“I’ve got it covered. I’ll ask him about it in between my longing looks and comments about his strong arms.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is amazing.”

CHAPTER
NINE

The evenings are mild, just cold enough to need a single blanket. Temra and I sleep under our own tent. Petrik has a tent. Kellyn prefers to sleep by the fire, the tall trees keeping the rain off him.

I’ve always been a poor sleeper. It often takes me hours to find oblivion, my mind unable to stop thinking about all the things that are troubling me. And now that I’m on the ground, with only a thin bedroll between me and the dirt, it’s even more difficult. I toss and turn, unable to get comfortable.

The nights are really getting to me, and this morning, a sleep-deprivation-induced headache pounds at my temples. All I want is my house. My bed. My forge. My blankets. My room.

But I can never return to any of it.

Temra and the mercenary appear perfectly rested. Petrik and I seem to be the only ones affected by sleeping outdoors.

“I could carry your pack for you today,” Temra offers to Petrik.

“No, thank you,” he says simply.

“What do you have in there anyway?”

“Aside from the necessary traveling supplies, books.”

“Those must be heavy.”

He hoists the pack higher on his shoulders. “They’re a comforting weight.”