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“What did you say?”

“I don’t remember the exact words.”

His hands curl around my fingers, pulling them from my face. “Yes, you do. What were the words, Ziva?”

I glare at him. “I’m only telling you this because I feel bad about putting you in danger against your will.”

He’s trying his best to keep from grinning, waiting.

“You have to understand, I don’t like people,” I say.

“You’ve said this before.”

“No, I mean, I don’tlikepeople. I’ve never been attracted to anyone before.” Though he has my hands out of my face, I stare at his neck, unable to look any higher. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t terrify me to the point of wanting to run the other way. I have these attacks, like the one you just witnessed. I panic a lot, and I’m scared all the time for reasons I can’t even really explain, except that the fear is always tied to people.

“But then I saw you, and you were beautiful. And for the first time in my life, I wanted to be close to someone physically. And that longing—combined with the spoken desire to touch you—it gave the sword its long-range abilities.” Thelast words come out as a whisper. But then, louder, I press on. I can’t allow him a chance to respond to that. It’s too humiliating. “Now you know everything. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

I still won’t look at him. I don’t want to see his expression.

“Didn’t the sword tell you everything about me?” he asks.

“Only some things. I’m asking if there’s anything else. Now that you know what’s at stake and everything we’re running from and protecting. Is there anything I should know?”

“No. We’re good, Ziva.”

I let out a breath of air, finally allowing myself a look at his face. I expect to be met with a haughty expression.

Instead, Kellyn is looking at me like he’s never seen me before.

As though he likes everything that he sees.

He takes my hands in his, just holds them in between us. Before I can decide whether I want to pull away, Kellyn rubs his fingers over my knuckles as he says, “I heard their secrets. All the men and women I killed with that sword. One was cheating on his wife. Another was thinking of defecting from Kymora’s service; she just couldn’t decide where to hide, considering a life in the mountains. One was stealing money from his fellow soldiers. One of the women fancied another soldier in the ranks. Almost all of them were afraid of death. I heard it. Their fears. It was horrible. It was too much, so much that it made me sick.

“I’d never held it before,” he continues. “The sword is… heavy.”

“It’s weighted with my secrets. They’re what give it power.”

Suddenly, the contact between our hands is making me anxious. I carefully pull away, and as soon as I do, I regret it.

His presence goes from being welcome to unwanted, back and forth, like my mind doesn’t know what to make of him. My body doesn’t know how to react to him. One moment, I like that I’m touching him. The next, I wish he were far away.

My life is a world of opposites. One instant I’m safe in my forge; the next I’m on the run for my life. One second I’m fine, and then I’m lost to despair and panic.

I can’t control any of it.

And I hate that.

I am more than my fears and weaknesses, but so much of the time, they’re all I can think about.

“Could I have some time to myself?” I ask him.

“Of course.”

It’s only after he’s gone that I realize he didn’t make one comment on the fact that I find him handsome. That I wanted to touch him. He simply took my hands, as though he only wished to give me what I wanted.

Petrik groans every time he moves. “My knees hurt. My feet hurt. My backside. My back. Myneck. How is that possible?”

Today was his first time riding in his own saddle, and when we dismount, Petrik lands on his feet—but they quickly give way, and he collapses into the dirt.