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He’s wearing Kymora’s sigil.

We freeze to the spot, not daring to breathe even once the rider is out of sight.

“What are we looking at?”

We both jump into the air as Kellyn puts his head right between us, peering through the foliage.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Who are you running from?” he asks.

“No one.”

“Is it a love match?”

“What?”Temra asks before I can.

“Between one of you and the scholar. Are you running away because your parents want you to marry someone old and sickly?”

“No!” I shriek.

“Right. Look at the state of his robes. He doesn’t look like he could afford a wife.”

“Hey!” Petrik protests.

But Kellyn talks right over him. “Is he really a monk, then? Are you off to join him in a life of celibacy to escape the old and sickly man?”

“By the Twins, no!” Temra says.

“There is no old and sickly man!” I say. “What is the matter with you?”

“I am not celibate!” Petrik shouts.

We all turn to him, and I suspect his cheeks are warming.

“Not that I’m with anyone—right now, I mean—I just—” He cuts himself off and turns away.

The mercenary lets out a chuckle at Petrik’s expense. “If you don’t tell me what’s really going on, then all I can do is guess. And by the way, if I end up having to fight some brute that one of you is betrothed to, that’s going to cost you extra. I’m here for protection against bandits. Not lovers.”

“Now he’s a brute?” I ask. “What happened to him being old and sickly?” Then I mentally rebuke myself for engaging with him.

Kellyn turns to me and grins. Actually grins. Like he couldn’t be more thrilled that I’m playing along with him.

“Never mind. I take it back. Don’t answer that,” I say. The longer he looks at me, the more uncomfortable I feel. Not because I feel threatened by him, but because I don’t like being looked at by anyone. Being on display has always been Temra’s thing. She’s the one who likes to star in city plays, to take center stage during a dance, or be in the middle of a group of boys.

I want to be hidden.

I want to feel safe.

When we break for the night some evenings later, everyone goes to gather firewood, not straying far from camp. I, however, put as much distance as I can between myself and everyone else without being unsafe.

I put my back to a tree trunk, sit on the pine-needle-covered floor, and breathe out more easily. It isn’t quite twilight, but the night bugs are already out in full force, buzzing and niggling around my ears. I raise my hands to block the soundsand close my eyes, pretending I’m home, sitting before the hearth or in my bed or in my forge. Somewhere the rest of the world isn’t.

That’s when I hear footsteps. They’re light, as though trying to be quiet, and that naturally sends my mind spinning with all the possibilities. My eyes fly open as my heart pounds in fear of bandits or Kymora’s men.

It doesn’t slow down when I see it’s the mercenary, carrying a load of firewood he’s gathered.

“Why do you wander off on your own so much?” he asks. “Are you looking for trouble?” He smiles with the question. As though he knows just how attractive he is and he wants me to acknowledge it, too.