By the hushed anticipation that fell over the soldiers when she entered the Croaking Frog, Mala knew that Kavik must have come. Still, she didn’t immediately see him, until her gaze searched the darkened corner of the common room. He sat at the end of a long table, apart from the other patrons and facing the door where she stood. His black hair only touched his shoulders now and his beard was shortened and cleaned. If not for the healing gashes on his arms and the width of his shoulders, she might not have recognized him.
Focused on his plate, he didn’t glance up as she crossed the room. He ripped away a piece of bread with stiff fingers. Oh, Vela. She hadn’t expected that this would be easy. She’d expected his anger. But what she saw in him now was different—the cold, sharp edge of rage. Her own blood and temper were hot, but she knew that ice well. He didn’t ignore her out of petulance or bad humor. He ignored her because looking at her might snap his control.
And this was the man who needed to be tamed? He had himself well in hand.
With a sigh, she pushed back the hood of her cloak and slipped onto the bench opposite him. His body tensed only for a moment before he resumed eating, his gaze cast firmly on his roasted meat. He’d bathed. And though she couldn’t be certain without glancing under the table, she thought he only wore his belt and furs, along with a leather baldric that crossed over his chest and sheathed the sword at his back.
“So you have a face under the revenants’ blood,” she said softly. And a fine face it was. Wide cheekbones, a strong nose, firm lips. But she still liked his eyes the best, though they hadn’t yet met hers this evening.
His voice like gravel, Kavik told her, “Go home”—then slipped another piece of bread into his mouth, as if she were nothing but a fly to be swatted between bites.
Her chest tightened. “You know I cannot.”
“You won’t die if you give up your quest.”
No. If Mala gave it up, she would be marked by Vela, forsaken and shunned. She would lose her place among her people. But she didn’t pursue her quest because she was afraid of failing. She needed to succeed.
“I won’t die,” she agreed. “But my people might. The Destroyer is returning. We’re ready to fight, but our numbers are so few. I’ve asked Vela to help me find the strength of ten thousand more warriors.”
“Make alliances. Pay the rest.”
“Do you think we haven’t tried? But no one is interested in coming to the aid of another country when their own people are in danger. They make vague promises at best.”
“Even Barin?”
He spoke the warlord’s name in the same way a wolf ripped a chunk of flesh from a haunch. So it was not just her quest that enraged him. He’d heard of her meeting in the citadel.
“He can promise what he likes,” she said quietly. “None of it will come to fruition, because I have vowed to see him dead.”
Kavik barked out a hard laugh and glanced up for the first time. The back of Mala’s neck tensed as alarm shot through her, yet she stayed her hand instead of reaching for her sword. Never had anyone looked at her with such hatred and anger—but he was still cold. Still controlled.
A sharp smile touched his mouth. “That sounds like a lie you would tell a man you meant to win over. To tame.”
Sickness balled in her stomach. “That doesn’t mean what you believe it does.”
“What does it mean, then?”
“I don’t know.” From all that Mala could see, Kavik was no more savage or feral than she was. So it must be something she couldn’t see yet—and so she needed to know him better. “I suppose I must discover what it means.”
He shook his head and resumed eating. Not believing her.
Then she would make sure to stay with him until he did. “Though it is not my quest, I still intend to slay the demon tusker while I am here. I would hire your services.”
No response.
“I’ve purchased a mount for your use.” Along with two additional pack horses, over which Shim was currently playing lord of the herd. “We could leave for the mountains tomorrow.”
Only silence.
That would not break her. Still, she was grateful when Selaq approached their table with two flagons of ale. Setting them down, the innkeeper quickly looked from Kavik’s face to Mala’s again. “Will you be having supper, too?”
“I will, thank you.”
Selaq hesitated. The woman had been abrupt and resentful when Mala had arrived at the inn, and during every following encounter. Now she seemed torn between that resentment and guilt.
Her next words revealed why. “Kavik told me you saved my sister’s boy.”
“My horse did.” Mala pushed one flagon in front of Kavik and picked up her own. “And he enjoys a warm grain mash.”