Page 15 of Of Sword & Silver

6

THE SWORD

Iam not surprised she’s already used her goddess-given power on me. I am surprised by the strength of the oath we swore to each other, its presence tickling between my shoulder blades like she’s attached to a lead there. I can sense where she is behind me, thanks to that oath.

An oath that snapped this bond between us tight, clarifying and confusing everything.

It shouldn’t affect me like this.

The trail of broken twigs and crushed vegetation the woman carelessly left finally ends, and I glance around in grudging admiration.

The thicket of mountain vegetation gives way to a clearing, just the right size for a camp. It’s far enough up the mountainside that I doubt we’ll have company anytime soon, especially given the increasing ferocity of the winter storm.

The wind’s quieter here, the boughs above us creaking as the trees are caught in its frigid embrace.

The woman doesn’t spare a glance at me, heading towards a pile of rocks on the far side of the clearing, which she quickly moves, unearthing several thick leather and wax-coated satchels.

She might be a thief and a liar, but she seems, at the very least, intelligent and prepared.

Of course the one with this… particular curse is as obnoxious as they get.

Sighing heavily, my lips thin and I force myself to help her move some of the larger rocks.

Her green cloak slips from her head, the red of her hair bright as fire even in the darkness. I swallow thickly.

“I would not have killed you.” I wince at my own unexpected words. Better to stay silent around her.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, matter of fact.

She sifts another bag from the rocks, then pulls out a weathered measure of waxed canvas. “Especially when you find out I only have one of these, and we’re sharing it if you don’t want to die of cold.” Her green gaze drops to my feet. “I didn’t think to bring you shoes, either.”

I grunt, taking the waxed cloth and the heavy stakes she produces. “I will take care of that.”

She eyes me speculatively, then shrugs, deciding against more questions.

I shouldn’t have threatened her to shut up, but I know better than anyone the past can’t be undone, and I can’t unsay that.

It’s better this way, anyway, with her disliking and distrusting me.

She should.

“If you put the tent up, I’ll start the fire and some food. Unless you like cooking.”

“Fine by me,” I say, striding over to where it’s clear the tent’s been pitched before, a series of indentations across the relatively level ground.

Loose strands of vibrant hair whip around her face as she watches me through narrowed eyes. The tip of her nose is red from the cold, color high in her cheeks, setting off those spring green eyes and lush lips.

“I could make you tell me your name,” she finally says, pulling canvas-wrapped logs from the rock-covered pile.

“I know,” I answer. If she wanted to, she already would have tried. I wouldn’t tell her. As hard as her compulsion is to resist, and the fact we’re inextricably bonded now in ways she doesn’t even realize makes her gifts even more difficult to shrug off, I cannot give that part of me away.

Not when so much depends on our entwined fate.

I shrug it off though, shaking my head, disgusted with myself, and focus on driving the thick wooden stakes into the soft forest floor.

How long did she camp up here, waiting for the right moment to strike Cottleside? Waiting to break me out, to save her own skin?

“I’m Kyrie.”

---