I sit up straight. “First of all, I was not starting to like him.” Lie. “Second, liking someone would not scare me.” Probably another lie. “Third, he was talking instead of running, Temra. If he had concerns, then there’s no reason why he couldn’t have brought them up while we were running.”

“I don’t think he’s used to befriending his charges. Bargaining is second nature to him. It’s his job, Ziva.”

“Will. You. Stop. Defending. Him? I want to be angry!”

She raises a hand to cover her mouth. “All right. You be angry. We hate Kellyn. He’s the worst, and if we didn’t need him for protection, we’d send him packing.”

“Thank you.” I inspect her face. “Are you trying to cover up a laugh?”

She keeps the hand in place over her lips. “Never.” The sound comes out strangled.

I return my head to her shoulder, letting the lie slide. A comfortable silence sits between us. I relish in the feel of her alive and breathing beside me.

“I want you to know,” I say, “no matter what happens, I’ll take care of us. You don’t have anything to worry about. I’ll find work in the capital. We’ll rent our own place as quickly as possible. A small apartment, perhaps.”

“We’ll find work,” she corrects me, “and then we’ll rent a bigger apartment. Or perhaps a small townhome at the city’s edge.”

“You don’t have to—” I start.

“Oh, hush, Ziva. I’m going to work, too. You won’t be able to work as a smithy anymore. You won’t be doing what you love or receive as lofty of an income. It’s going to be tough, but we’ll manage it together. Stop trying to take care of me. I’m not a little girl, and you only insult me when you suggest that I won’t be helping with anything.”

I’m so proud of her, even though her words make my heart ache. “Understood.”

I know she’s right. What she suggests sounds perfectly reasonable, but I can’t help but feel as though I’m failing her in some way.

As though I’m failing my parents.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

There is now a distinct us and him separation in our group. Petrik, Temra, and I walk a sharp distance behind Kellyn, staring at the horrible man’s back as we walk.

I can’t believe I once thought him handsome. He is now more ugly to me than any other person ever could be.

From his pack, Petrik pulls out what meager food we have when we make camp. One round of soggy bread. Some oats that miraculously stayed dry in their leather pouch, and dried meat.

That’s it.

“It’ll last until we can barter with other travelers on the road,” Kellyn says, for once the optimistic one. Is he trying to get back in our good graces?

It’s not going to work.

“How far is it to the capital?” Temra wants to know.

“Just over a week.”

We get a fire going, and Petrik boils some oats before pulling out his books.