Page 46 of Of Sword & Silver

I can usually read people very well.

He’s right about one thing, though. He’s not human.

“Just one thing besides all this.” He waves at the armor and packs on the floor, then tugs the black shirt in his hands over his head.

“Alright, where? What is it?”

I avert my eyes as he pulls his prison pants off, donning a pair of soft black leather trousers. He doesn’t answer right away and I turn around, out of sorts and still… warm from the way he touched me.

He keeps touching me.

Last night, when he held me, keeping me quiet after the direcat.

Today, when he held me against him, using our combined magic to wake the dead.

“You,” he finally answers.

My molars grind together at the simple word.

“You’re the key to my plans,” he continues.

“Then let’s get them started,” I call over my shoulder. The armor’s over his shoulder, black leather boots climbing his calf, a broadsword I missed now slung in a sheath between his shoulders. The pommel stands out behind him, a black stone set in the center, a stark contrast against his silver white hair. He looks good in black.

He’s the key to my plans, too.

Finding a cure is the only thing that matters.

14

KYRIE

The days spent descending from the Hiirek Mountains pass quickly. We hardly spoke to each other as we trekked downhill, navigating the snowy passes in concentrated silence, then too tired to do more talking than necessary at night.

He didn’t touch me again.

Not once.

Not in our shared tent, and not when I nearly broke my face open on a patch of icy gravel, tearing open my palms for my trouble.

I don’t want him to touch me again, anyway.

That would be stupid of both of us. There might be something… physical there, but we couldn’t be worse for each other. Our gods would never approve of any dallying between us, either.

In fact, they’d probably make our lives more hellish just to amuse themselves.

Not that I even like him.

I frown, holding the reins of my horse too tight. We managed to find a home nestled in the wild Hiirek foothills willing to sell us two horses this morning. The direcat made itself scarce as soon as we approached even that far-flung bastion of civilization, and I’m surprised to find I miss the furry cat already.

The horse under me snorts, flinging its head. There’s no way either horse is the three years they claimed them to be, but the Sword and I managed to barter them down from their original, outlandish price.

“We could have stolen them tonight,” I tell him from the ancient saddle they threw in. It’s good leather though, and comfortable. Mushroom follows complacently behind us, loaded down with the Sword’s armor and the rest of the things we liberated from the tomb.

“They would know it was us.” His horse is massive, likely a former farm animal, with black feathered hoofs and a greying muzzle.

“That’s half the fun. I have a reputation to uphold.” I toss my hair, and he looks at me for a half-second too long.

“We don’t have time to wait till nightfall. We’re running out of time as it is.”

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