Page 164 of Swordheart
For the love of the great god, don’t marry Alver?
That last one made him shudder. She hated Alver, he knew that. But the look in her eyes the last time he had seen her, the resignation… that terrified him. What if she decided that she wasn’t worth more? What if she was so hurt by Sarkis’s betrayal that she simply… gave up?
The thought of that clammy-handed worm taking advantage of her, of Halla dull-eyed but dutiful in his bed… Sarkis’s fist clenched and he leaned his forehead against it, gut churning.
And how much of that is jealousy?he taunted himself.Even now, you’re a possessive ass, when you have no right to be. Less than no right. At least he never lied about who he was.
He stared at the paper some more.
Nolan cleared his throat. “We must leave soon,” he said.
Sarkis scrawled “I’m sorry. Please stay safe.” and folded the paper in half. “Here,” he said hoarsely.
Nolan took it from his hand and Sarkis had an immediate desire to snatch it back. Had he really just written, “Please stay safe”? As if she were a chance acquaintance met on the road?
She’d be in her rights to wad it up and serve it back to me on the point of a dagger.
What else could I say?
I love you.
I will always love you, as long as this cursed steel endures.
And if he had written that, then… what? They would still be apart. He would still be in Bartholomew’s power. He would still be unable to reach her. He would still have betrayed her and he would still have no power to make amends.
Except that you would have found a way to reach out and cause her pain one last time. She is probably cursing your name and glad that you’re gone. Leave her with her anger. It will make this easier for her.
Nolan nodded and went to the innkeeper. “This must be delivered to Mistress Halla in Rutger’s Howe,” he said. “As soon as possible. Is there anyone that will be going that way?”
The innkeeper frowned. “No mail coach out here,” he said slowly. “Could send it with one of the lads, maybe.”
“Do that, please,” said Nolan, setting coins on the counter.
Sarkis looked away. The scholar was keeping his end of the bargain. Honor demanded that Sarkis keep his, and tell him all about the strange, twisted blacksmith he revered.
At least someone will be glad of my company,he thought bleakly, and then grimaced at himself in self-disgust.
And here you thought you had gotten over wallowing in self-pity after the first hundred years. No one’s cutting out your tongue, are they? Suck it up and deal with the mess you’ve made.
Are you a warrior or a worm?
At the moment, he felt more akin to a worm.
“That’s all done, then,” said Nolan cheerfully. “I believe Bartholomew is outside with the horses.”
Sarkis grunted and rose to his feet. Perhaps once Bartholomew relinquished the blade to Nolan, he could convince the man to return to Rutger’s Howe. He had to make sure that Halla had not been forced into marrying Alver.
Zale will protect her,he thought.Zale knows.
He knew that it was true, and yet the priest’s slender shoulders seemed too slight to trust with such a weight.
And yours would be better? How badly have you managed this? All of it? How badly have you hurt a woman you love?
I must find a way back to her. I must not fail.
This time, great god, please do not let me fail.
Halla was deep in a dream where she was trying to do something and Sarkis was not helping—was standing around making completely unhelpful comments, in fact, and it was very annoying, and she still hadn’t quite forgiven him for not telling her that he was a traitor—and then the door of the wagon burst open and somebody dragged her out of bed.
