Careful not to get lost, I finally get the courage to ask for directions to the Dancing Kiwi Tavern. Turns out a kiwi isn’t just a fruit but yet another kind of flightless bird. I stare up at the image of the squat bird with a long, thin beak painted on the sign above the door.
He’s probably not even inside. It’s not like he’s going to spend his days just sitting in the public area all day. No, he’ll be off enjoying the city. Although it is lunchtime. So maybe he’s eating?
Honestly, I can’t tell if I want him to be inside or not. I sort of want to talk to Kellyn, but I’m also equally terrified of it.
But I need to talk him out of a weapon, and I can’t do that if I don’t actually speak to him.
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
That word rings in my ears in Temra’s voice. She’s usually so supportive of my weaknesses, but I can’t help but think that was all a lie and she’s finally told me how she really feels.
If it were Temra, she wouldn’t think twice about going to talk to a boy. She would be confident, smiling, ready to take on anything.
For just a second, I pretend I’m her, and I enter the tavern.
My first objective is simple: Don’t panic, and find an empty table to sit at.
It only takes one quick perusal to confirm there are no empty tables.
I can’t sit next to someone I don’t know. That leaves the stools near the front counter. There are seven of them. There’s a person in numbers one, three, four, and seven. Which means no matter which stool I sit in, I’ll be next to someone.
That won’t work, either.
Panic sets in.
I can’t stand here, and I can’t sit.
Walk out.
I should definitely walk back out.
But what if someone saw me walk in here, saw me panic, and then turn around?
It shouldn’t matter. They’re all strangers. Who cares?
My face heats up like I’ve just gotten the most wicked sunburn, my palms are shaky, and I swear everyone in the room is looking at me.
I hear laughter coming from one of the tables. It’s probably directed at me. This was so stupid. Why did I—
“Bladesmith.”
His voice cuts above all the other noises in the tavern, and I find myself relaxing at it.
“Mercenary.”
Kellyn comes into view. He’s clean. Obviously, he took advantage of a bath and fresh clothing. He smells nice. Like lemons and grass. Some sort of local soap?
He’s also shaved. His beard was darker than his golden-red locks on the road, a burnt red. But now he’s fresh and smooth. It’s impossible to miss his smile.
“What are you wearing?” he asks, barely concealing a laugh.
I glance downward and feel my stomach turn over.
I’d completely forgotten I was still in this hideous dress.
“I promise it wasn’t my first choice.” And right now, I honestly wish I were back in my dirty traveling clothes rather than this.
But blessedly, Kellyn doesn’t say another word about it. “There’s no way you’ve finished my weapon already,” he says.
“I haven’t.”
He nods, sticking out his lips in thought. “Care for a drink?”
I’ve never really cared for alcohol before, but—“Sure.”
He heads over to one of the tables. It’s empty now. I didn’t even notice he was the one sitting in it when I did my cursory glance. Kellyn pulls out a chair, presumably to sit in it, but he looks to me expectantly.
What is happening?
He doesn’t mean for me to—
Before I can finish the thought, I’m sitting in the chair.
He’s being polite and courteous. As if we’d planned to meet together. As if he’d asked to take me out.
I should say something, I think as soon as he takes his own seat. I’m the one who came to him. He’ll expect me to initiate conversation. Why is this so hard?
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
“Did you meet your family?” he asks.
After my initial surprise, I answer, “I did.”
“And?”
“I don’t think I like them.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
At the next pause, I blurt, “The problem is that Temra loves them.”
“Ah.”
A drink is set before me. I didn’t even notice Kellyn ordering it. The serving maid gives the mercenary a very unnecessary smile before striding off on swaying hips.
I stare at the cup, glad to have something to hold to keep my hands busy.
Am I being selfish? Am I making everything about me? Am I so pathetic that I don’t know how to be happy when a good thing is presented before me?
At the silence that follows, I say, “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
Kellyn looks at the bottom of his cup as he takes a drink. “Not really.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t have a job for me to do, and you haven’t finished the one I gave you. So you’re here for social reasons.”
Oh my Goddesses. I am. I mean, I do have something to discuss with him, but I haven’t even brought it up yet. I’m currently being social.
Don’t think too hard about it. Just keep talking.
“Our new home doesn’t feel safe,” I say. “I had to get out. I don’t know anybody in this city.” And I don’t want to.
“But you know me. So I was your only option.”
I tilt the cup in my hands so I can stare down into the dark contents. “I could have shut myself in my room.”
“Or made small talk with the scholar. Or did he take your sister’s side?”
“My sister’s side?”
“You had an argument, did you not? Why would you be here if you had your sister’s skirts to hide behind?”
I’m so shocked by his words that I nearly lose my grip on my tilted drink. “Excuse me?”
Kellyn rubs the side of one finger against his forehead. “That came out wrong. I just meant that you are attached to her. You can’t really start a sentence without looking to her to finish it.”
I feel my brow shoot up to my hairline.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Just that you’re awfully dependent on her, and maybe it’s good for you to get out on your own every once in a while. Bladesmith, I’m trying to say I’m glad you came to see me.”
I can’t even begin to unpack those words. Should I pretend to take a drink from this cup I have no intention of actually consuming?
“I don’t like getting out,” I say.
“I know.”
“I hate most people.”
“I know.”
“I don’t even drink.”
He grins. “I guessed as much. You just like having something to hold in your hands, right?”
At that, I lock eyes with him. How has he guessed so much about me?
He thinks you’re a beauty.
My cheeks redden. This whole exchange is humiliating. If I ran out of here, would he chase me?
“What just happened?” he asks.
“What?”
“You were fine for a moment, and now you look ready to bolt. Did I do something?”
“No. It’s me.” It’s always me. “I’m not good at talking.”
“You’re doing perfectly.”
That’s kind of him to say, but I’m almost certain he’s lying for my benefit.
At my silence, he asks, “Are you ever going to tell me the rest of what that sword revealed to you about me?”
I look down at the wood grain of the table, twisting the cup in slow circles. “No.”
“Oh, come on. How can you not tell me my own secret?”
“It’s too humiliating,” I whisper.
His jaw clenches. “I did some things in my past that I’m not proud of. I want to know which one the sword told you about.”
At that, I backtrack immediately. “I didn’t mean humiliating for you! I meant humiliating for me!”
He relaxes visibly, understanding settling in. “I find you attractive.”
My chest grows tight, and I involuntarily hold my breath.
“I think it’s adorable when you stammer. I like that you don’t open up to most people. It makes it more of a challenge when I finally get you to trust me. You’re the perfect height. I barely have to bend down to be at eye level with you. When you fiddle with your hands, it makes me want to take them into my own, and—”
“Would you stop it!” I hiss between my teeth as loudly as I dare.
“Were any of those what the sword told you?”
“And then some!” I say rebukingly.
I can’t look at him. Doesn’t he realize how uncomfortable he’s making me? Is he amused by how unsettled I am? Was that his goal?
“I’m sorry,” he says. “You could even the score, though. Tell me some of your secrets about me. Then we would be even.”
“I don’t have any secrets about you.”