Page 77 of Swordheart
“Where have you—” Sarkis roared, then heard himself and clamped down his voice hard, so that “—been?!” came out in a strangled whisper.
Halla goggled at him. “Are you all right?”
Great god, what was wrong with him? He was yelling like she was the one at fault. Had he been that afraid for her?
Of course you were. If you can’t find her, you can’t protect her. Perfectly reasonable.
Perfectly.
“I’m fine,” he said. That came out more clipped than she deserved, so he tried again. “Sorry. On edge.”
“Being attacked would set anyone on edge,” said Halla, putting her hand on his arm. “It’s all right.”
She thinks I’m upset because I got in a fight. Great god have mercy.He patted her hand because he had no idea what else to do. “Where did you go?”
“Oh! I ran back to the library and hid there. I thought they wouldn’t come after me with all those witnesses.”
“Sensible.” Too sensible. He hadn’t even thought to look there.
“Then the nice woman on the corner told me which way you’d gone,” Halla continued cheerfully. She beamed at him.
“Of course she did,” said Sarkis, through gritted teeth.
CHAPTER 25
That night, Sarkis lay on the thin mattress and brooded.
The attack by footpads did not bother him overmuch. He suspected it would trouble Halla a great deal more. She was not used to having people assault her for no reason except that she had something they wanted.
Odd that she could reach adulthood and still hold such an innocence. Perhaps it was this decadent land, or perhaps she had simply never had anything that anyone wanted before.
He grimaced. He knew that he should hold such softness in contempt, and yet… and yet…
Consulting the maps had been kind. He had not thought to do it. He was used to being displaced in time, over and over. He was used to being thought of as nothing more than a weapon, not a man who might wish to know the fate of his country.
He had almost come to think of himself as such as well. Right now, with the memory of the fight still singing in his blood, he still felt very much like a weapon. And a bit depressed at how much he enjoyed being one, from time to time.
It had taken Halla and her endless questions and inability to take anything at face value to see him as a man again, and then to search out how such a man, isolated in time, might find a marker.
It had been kind. Yes. Kind and soft and damned decent of her to do, when she had her own troubles to worry about.
But he should not have kissed her. That had been a mistake.
He rolled over, restless. Perhaps, but it had been a glorious mistake. He could still feel the way she had pressed against him,her body molding against his. He could easily imagine how much better it would be without armor and cloth between them.
And for all you know, she was squashed up against you because you were pushing her into the wall,he told himself grimly.And if you do not stop these thoughts, you will have to beat your own ass for disrespect.
He had kissed any number of women in his life, and by his own standards, that had been a very chaste, respectful kiss. He did not know why it had felt so shockingly intimate.
She had not wept or broken down over the attack. He would have held her if she had, and Sarkis did notthinkthat he would have taken advantage of her weakness to kiss her again, but… well, if hundreds of years in a sword had taught him anything, it was mostly that he was not half the man that, in life, he had thought that he might be.
It would be easier when there was a priest traveling with them. One did not have lustful thoughts around a priest if one could avoid it.
Although they’ll be a priest of one of these decadent southern gods,Sarkis thought glumly.So for all I know, they’ll be as randy as a rooster in a henhouse and call it a sacrament.
That thought would have killed the libido of far stronger men than Sarkis. He rolled over again and wrapped the blankets around himself.
His last thought before falling asleep was that neither he nor Halla had mentioned Rutger’s Howe while they stood in line. How had the footpad known where she was from?
