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I fixed my face and turned back to the fire as she continued.

“The time for avoidance has ended for you two. Now you have to figure out how to live with each other and not resort to bloodshed.”

With that, she dropped an arm full of knives onto the end of my table—five of them, all different sizes—and Roan came up beside her, adding his bow, a quiver of arrows, two small axes, and a traditional battle sword to the pile. If it came to bloodshed, I feared I may be at a disadvantage. How many implements of violence did one hunter need?

Esska seemed unbothered with the idea of leaving me alone with a practical stranger in possession of so much sharpened iron. She absentmindedly fiddled with one of the smaller knives, most likely thinking something nonsensical while my life hung in the balance.

My gaze shifted back to Roan, catching on the sight of my ribbons wrapping around his forearms. That same dull ache went through my chest again, and I cringed. It was such a cruel reminder. I fought not to look at the ribbons on my own wrists.

Roan was shouldering his pack and glancing around the hut, his eyes

lingering on the once empty spot of packed earth where he’d unrolled his mat a few days before. Now the space was taken up with a three-legged stool, a wooden chest, and my heavy cloak that needed mending.

Guilt struck me.

I’d hauled those things over in a fit of rage, trying to take up every last corner for myself. Now here was this idiot, no house to welcome him home, and I’d gone and filled up the only bit of room he’d been able to find.

I said a quiet curse and stood, resigning myself to the task. I didn’t look at either of them as I headed over, first tossing the cloak onto the table, then dragging the chest back to where it usually sat by my bed, and, finally, placing the stool back by the chair in front of the fireplace.

Roan unpacked without a word, and Esska caught my eye, mouthing a quickbe nice.

“Anyway,” she said to the both of us. She made her way over to me and pointed to one of the drawers on the back shelves, throwing a look over her shoulder to make sure Roan wasn’t looking. “Let me know if you two need anything.”

I caught her meaning and started over, moving quicker when she prodded me on with her finger.

“Baer has forbidden me from babysitting, of course,” she continued. I slid the drawer open, plucking two of the maple chews out and slipping them into her open palm. “But you better believe I’ll be back here in the morning to make sure the both of you are still in one piece.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” I mumbled.

I turned to see Roan pulling a length of cord from his bag. It was hung with a dense collection of animal ears, and I frowned. A hunter’s cord and longer than most. It was a reminder that he was favored in our clan,skilled at an early age and honored because of it. People spoke well of him. His father was an elder, and his mother came from an extensive line of important leaders. He was on the path to claiming the same impressive standing.

It was a stark contrast to my own precarious position. My mother had been a mischief-maker, and my father hadn’t even belonged to our clan. My mother’s pregnancy was unthinkable and deeply shameful. The clans had grappled and fought to solve the problem that was me. Even now, eighteen years later, I was still a source of tension. Many didn’t think I was worth the hassle. If it came down to trouble between Roan and me, I had little difficulty determining who the elders would side with. I didn’t have a chance.

He glanced around the room, then stood and hung the gaudy thing off the hook I used when drying herbs. That wouldnotbe staying there. He’d hung it by its middle, the two halves traveling down on either side, and the thing still trailed nearly to the floor. I’d take it down and throw it in the woods when he wasn’t looking. Better yet, I’d toss it into the fire.

He grumbled something and dragged his fingers through his blond hair, turning to face us just as we made our way back. He wore an unhappy look, and it was then that I saw the cut splitting his left cheek. Dark bruises were blooming under his skin. With his drawn brows and tight jaw, he seemed reminiscent of the warriors of old, reminding me I was in over my head. I wondered how he’d gotten it. Had there been a hunt? I didn’t think so, but then again, what would I know? I’d been holed up in here like a recluse, avoiding anyone and everyone. I’d slipped out early to let out the ducks, geese, and chickens and haul them some fresh water. Then I’d sneaked into the kitchens (forbidden) and snagged two rolls, a salted fish, and dried apple slices (extra forbidden).

Perhaps he’d been climbing the southern cliffs when rocks crumbled out from under his hand. Or maybe he’d been tracking a deer when he’d fallen into a ravine and been lashed in the face by branches.

Damn him and his adventures. It seemed unlikely I’d make it back into the woods soon, and here he was flaunting scars from his glorious outings like battle wounds. That they looked good on him made it even worse. I hated myself for thinking it, but his storm-blue eyes with that bruise blooming across his cheek…

Shut up, Fenli.

“Thanks, Ess,” he said, looking less than thankful. “We’ll be fine.”

The words made a new, hot anger surge in me. How dare he presume how I would be. Fine? Well, I didn’t think Iwouldbe fine. I was thinking more along the lines of being downright horrible.

“I’m sure you will be,” she said. She reached out and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Love you, Fenni.”

And then she was out the door and gone, popping candies into her mouth while she went, I was sure.

I turned away, my heart giving a painful squeeze as a new wash of fear swept over me. There was nothing to be fearful of, and I told myself that again and again.

It didn’t make it any easier.

I set myself to ignoring Roan as best I could, and he seemed to have the same approach. Without so much as a glance at me, he tasked himself with cleaning all the leather in his possession, polishing every piece of metal, and sharpening each blade. It used to be that I’d brew a cup of tea and pour over maps and sketches on a night like this, planning my next outing and dreaming about what I may find around each new bend. That was impossible now, and the loss of it sent another pang throughmy chest. I sighed and glanced around the small space. What was I meant to do now? Laundry, most likely. I rolled my eyes and tried to anchor myself in the anger lest I get swept up in the fear and grief.

It was easy, as I had an awful lot of it.