That won’t work, either.

Panic sets in.

I can’t stand here, and I can’t sit.

Walk out.

I should definitely walk back out.

But what if someone saw me walk in here, saw me panic, and then turn around?

It shouldn’t matter. They’re all strangers. Who cares?

My face heats up like I’ve just gotten the most wicked sunburn, my palms are shaky, and I swear everyone in the room is looking at me.

I hear laughter coming from one of the tables. It’s probably directed at me. This was so stupid. Why did I—

“Bladesmith.”

His voice cuts above all the other noises in the tavern, and I find myself relaxing at it.

“Mercenary.”

Kellyn comes into view. He’s clean. Obviously, he took advantage of a bath and fresh clothing. He smells nice. Like lemons and grass. Some sort of local soap?

He’s also shaved. His beard was darker than his golden-red locks on the road, a burnt red. But now he’s fresh and smooth. It’s impossible to miss his smile.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, barely concealing a laugh.

I glance downward and feel my stomach turn over.

I’d completely forgotten I was still in this hideous dress.

“I promise it wasn’t my first choice.” And right now, I honestly wish I were back in my dirty traveling clothes rather than this.

But blessedly, Kellyn doesn’t say another word about it. “There’s no way you’ve finished my weapon already,” he says.

“I haven’t.”

He nods, sticking out his lips in thought. “Care for a drink?”

I’ve never really cared for alcohol before, but—“Sure.”

He heads over to one of the tables. It’s empty now. I didn’t even notice he was the one sitting in it when I did my cursory glance. Kellyn pulls out a chair, presumably to sit in it, but he looks to me expectantly.

What is happening?

He doesn’t mean for me to—

Before I can finish the thought, I’m sitting in the chair.

He’s being polite and courteous. As if we’d planned to meet together. As if he’d asked to take me out.

I should say something, I think as soon as he takes his own seat. I’m the one who came to him. He’ll expect me to initiate conversation. Why is this so hard?

Pathetic.

Pathetic.

Pathetic.

“Did you meet your family?” he asks.

After my initial surprise, I answer, “I did.”

“And?”

“I don’t think I like them.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

At the next pause, I blurt, “The problem is that Temra loves them.”

“Ah.”

A drink is set before me. I didn’t even notice Kellyn ordering it. The serving maid gives the mercenary a very unnecessary smile before striding off on swaying hips.

I stare at the cup, glad to have something to hold to keep my hands busy.

Am I being selfish? Am I making everything about me? Am I so pathetic that I don’t know how to be happy when a good thing is presented before me?