I’ve found a sturdy tree to lean against. A small brook provides a comfortable background noise. The air is full of the heady scent of large red flowers with pointed petals and protruding stamens.

I hold my hands out in front of me, stare at the faded calluses on my palms. I long to wrap my fingers around a hammer, to feel the reverberations of steel meeting steel pound up my arm. I miss the smell of smoke and the color of liquid metal.

Even as the self-pity sets in, the isolation refreshes my mind. It energizes me in a way nothing else does, not even sleep. Things seem less bleak. I can do this. We will survive. Temra and I can still have a good life. Maybe someday we won’t even need to look over our shoulders anymore. It will never be what it was before, but that doesn’t mean I’ll hate the rest of my life.

“Petrik says food is ready. He sent me to find you.”

Kellyn.

My whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I find that hard to believe. Petrik would send Temra, not you.”

“All right. So maybe I volunteered.” He crosses his arms over his chest, leans against one of the trees, hooks one foot behind the other.

As though he means to stay and chat.

“I’ll be along in a moment,” I say.

He doesn’t move.

I look heavenward. “That was the polite way of me telling you to leave.”

“And I was politely ignoring it.” He moves closer, daring to crouch down right in front of where I sit.

“Go away. I don’t like you. I don’t want to see you.” I don’t care if I sound childish or petulant. I’m going for clarity.

“I thought we had a real connection for a moment. At the tavern. I want to … I want to get back to where we were. It was nice.”

“I’m not the one who ruined it,” I say, barely thinking over my words first. In a whisper, I add, “I will never forgive you for almost costing me her life.”

Kellyn stands back up in one fluid motion. “I—I made a grave mistake. I know that now. I’m not used to jumping into things, especially when there’s so much danger to consider.”

“You still demanded money from me before helping.”

“I did not. You threw money at me as I was standing up to join you. I didn’t actually ask for it.”

“And yet, you didn’t return it.”

“It’s not for me. I need it to—” He cuts himself off, a look of frustration making a line between his brow. He won’t finish whatever it is he started to say.

“I shouldn’t have expected anything more from a mercenary. You’re attached to no one. No place. Nothing. You only care about yourself. About how much money you have. It’s disgusting, and you should be ashamed of who you are.”

He looks down at the ground for a moment. “This is how you see me?”