Page 73 of Of Sword & Silver

I must have been really sick.

“Don’t look at me,” she says. “I didn’t brush your hair, either. He wouldn’t let me near you except to work on your wound.”

My attention slides back to the brush, shot through with long red hair.

The Sword brushed my hair?

The realization is an uncomfortable one. I hustle away from Lara, leaning on the wall as I make my way to my leather satchel in the corner. My pants and blouse are neatly tucked inside it, freshly laundered, too.

“He didn’t wash those, in case you’re wondering. He did, however, pay the innkeeper’s daughter to. She mended the cloak I gave you as well.” Lara’s voice is thick with an emotion I don’t know how to name.

“I don’t understand. He said he hates me.” Didn’t he? He said I was his punishment.

Lara’s hand is warm on my bare shoulder. “I don’t know if he understands, either.”

I force a smile. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to keep up my methods if it produces these results.”

Lara laughs, but it ends on a sigh.

She opens her mouth like she wants to say something else, but I turn away, tugging my clothes on carefully.

“Breakfast will be downstairs, and then I suppose we’ll be on the road.”

“Got it,” I say in a voice that I hardly recognize.

“Be careful, Kyrie,” Lara says.

She’s gone before I can ask her what she means.

24

THE SWORD

Our horses are rested and loaded down with food and supplies the people of the town were only too happy to offer up as thanks.

They wouldn’t even take payment, which rankles.

I do not like the idea of a debt unpaid, though in the end, only one debt ever truly comes due.

Kyrie’s singing as she rides out at the head of the group, Morrow at her side, who has a warbling bass that complements Kyrie’s light soprano all too well. Caedia rides behind them on a snow-white mare the likes of which I haven’t seen in an age.

The music is as pretty as Kyrie, but the sound of her harmonizing with Morrow makes me grit my teeth.

I hate this even more than I thought I would. Being in Cottleside for a decade was better than this torture.

Kyrie is all I can think about, insufferable, beautiful Kyrie, with her whip-smart humor and devil-may-care attitude. Her fearlessness, her stubbornness, the hidden kindness she thinks no one sees.

The worst part is, I see so plainly now why she hides it. She’s been punished for it before. She thinks it makes her weak.

I want to show her how wrong she is, but I know I’ll only prove her right.

And that, that, more than anything, is a blade straight to my dark heart.

“You are quiet.” Lara’s mellow voice jerks me out of my reverie, and I glance sideways to find her riding alongside me, Mushroom trotting behind her happily.

“The quiet suits me.”

“I am sure it does,” she says, a meaningful look on her face.

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