She keeps up a steady stream of conversation. Occasionally, she throws in a comment about how smart he is or how strong he must be to carry so much over so long a distance. The flirtations are subtle, an art all their own.

The familiar well of envy takes me over, but I’m brought up short by Temra’s meaningful glance between me and the mercenary, who takes the lead of our party several feet ahead.

Go, she mouths.

I shoot her a dirty look in response, but she ignores that, going back to talking to Petrik. She’s holding Reya’s lead, which leaves me and my hands free.

I stare at the mercenary’s back, willing him to vanish into thin air.

Temra nudges me with her arms and mouths, Ogling.

She’s threatening me again.

My hands tighten into fists, and Temra shoves me a few feet ahead, nearly causing me to collide with Kellyn.

The mercenary turns his head in my direction, and I could strangle my sister as I now keep pace with him.

Oh, damn it all.

“Kellyn, tell me about yourself,” I say. As soon as the words are out, I feel goosebumps rise on my skin. My mind panics and my body sizzles like a lightning bolt has struck just under my skin.

This is horrible. Why is this happening? I hate her. I hate this. I hate everything.

After the initial surprise on his face, Kellyn says, “What do you want to know?”

“Where are you from?” I spit out, remembering the words Temra forced me to rehearse last night.

“A small village called Amanor in Prince Skiro’s Territory. I grew up on a farm with my family.”

Okay. I can do this. Follow-up questions. What do I want to know?

“Does your family still live there?”

“Yes, I am the oldest of my siblings, and the only one who is away from home. Everyone else still tends to the farm. Sometimes I return for the harvest to help out.”

Really? “Do you make them pay you?”

He laughs. “No. I’m a sellsword. That is all. Besides, you don’t charge family.”

Hmm. That’s a kind thing: helping family out. I hadn’t expected it of him.

“What did you do before you were a smithy?” He surprises me by asking a question of his own. Does he actually want to know? Or is he just being polite by continuing the conversation?

And then I can all but hear Temra’s voice in my head: You can fixate later. Just talk to him.

I want to growl in frustration. Instead, I paste a smile on my face. “Well, first I had to train. So before I was a smithy, I was an apprentice to one. My gift manifested when I was nine. Before that, Temra and I were at the orphanage in Lirasu.” My thoughts jumble together, and I don’t know where to start. I take a breath and try again. “One day the priestesses took all the orphans for a walk through the city to get some of the energy out of our legs. We passed by a smithy.”