“There was a retired palace guard living in the village. I begged him to teach me after I finished my chores each day. Ma didn’t like it, but Da talked her into it. Said it was only a good thing if I knew how to defend myself. I love them both dearly, but I always wanted to see the world. I left as soon as I was old enough to take on work. I visit regularly, though. I can’t stay away too long. I get homesick.”

I’ve been gone from my forge just over a week and already I’m homesick. I feel this kinship with Kellyn. It’s nice to hear someone else admit they miss home.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say.

“Thank you for asking,” he says. He turns his golden gaze on me. “You’re all right, bladesmith. For a while, I thought you might be too uptight.”

“I thought you might be too unlikable.”

“I had a good night’s sleep,” he says, as though that explains anything. “And just so you know, I rarely drink. I was celebrating my birthday. Turned twenty.”

Well, doesn’t that just make me feel like a monster for abducting him on his birthday. “Happy late birthday.”

“Thank you. To be honest, I think I like how that day ended.” His eyes do a sweep of my body, from the top of my newly shorn hair to the base of my boots.

Everywhere his eyes touch, I feel like I’ve been lit on fire.

Why is he looking at me like that?

When Kellyn meets my eyes again, I don’t know what he sees there, likely the panic. He looks over his shoulder, notes that Temra and Petrik have fallen way behind.

“Pick up the pace, scholar!” he shouts. “And try not to trip on your dress.”

Petrik looks up with a familiar glare that seems to be reserved only for Kellyn. “I told you, these are robes! And you try not to fall over from the weight of your head.”

Kellyn laughs, and I join him.

When we break for camp, Petrik separates himself from Temra. He grabs what appears to be a notebook and quill from his pack before seating himself on the log I’ve occupied.

Dinner is cooking, some sort of stew that makes my mouth water. The mercenary is off doing who knows what, and Temra pouts in Petrik’s direction.

“I’ve noticed that your horse carries a bundle of weapons. Are they your making?” he asks me.

“Yes,” I say cautiously.

“May I ask what they do?”

“You took your time before approaching me with your questions.”

“I didn’t want to bombard you. You’re clearly hesitant to talk about your abilities.”

“I’m just hesitant about talking in general.”

“You spoke to the mercenary earlier.”

Because my sister was blackmailing me.

“Do you want me to answer your questions or don’t you?” I ask, a hint of irritation creeping into my tone.

“Yes, please.”

“In the weapons bundle, there’s a shortsword named Midnight. It turns black when those who mean you harm are nearby.” I’ve looked at it no less than two hundred times since Petrik and Kellyn joined our party. It has remained the natural gray of steel, so that gives me some comfort.