I remember feeling a little guilty, but I still thought life would be better without someone taking my things.
Mother bent down to my level. “You listen carefully, Ziva. A sister is the most special gift you could ever be given. Better than any doll. She will be a best friend you can take with you through life. Someone who will love you no matter what.”
Those words stuck with me, and they turned out to be true. When Mother and Father were gone, I was beyond lucky to have Temra with me through it all.
I’m pulled back to the present, realizing I’ve missed the turn the conversation has taken.
“We were very lucky Ziva’s ability manifested itself when it did,” Temra is saying. “Else we might have been stuck in that horrible orphanage for years more.”
“It wasn’t horrible,” I say.
“The staff didn’t hate you as they did me.”
“You pulled pranks on them. Put mud in their boots and hid their teaching supplies.”
“They asked for it. You saw the way Miss Bekis would look at me, like I was some unruly heathen of a child.”
“You were!”
“Just whose side are you on, Ziva?”
The back-and-forth feels so normal that for just a second, I forget about everything else. I can pretend we’re out in the yard, enjoying a warm summer day.
“I, too, was raised in a public house,” Petrik says. “I spent the majority of my life in the library, stuck with the same tutors day after day. I can relate.”
“Did you like growing up in a library?” Temra asks. “Sounds boring.”
“I loved it.” The two of them start sharing life stories, Temra’s full of pranks while Petrik’s life was built on rigorous study.
They’re so very different, but those differences seem to connect them in constant conversation. Temra is fascinated by everything Petrik has to tell her, and he in turn hangs on her every word.
I leave them to it, tugging on Reya’s reins when she tries to stop to eat leaves from a low-hanging tree.
“Was it difficult, being alone while also having to look out for someone younger?”
I startle at the mercenary’s voice. I hadn’t heard him step beside me.
“Of course it was.”
“I’m sorry about your parents.”
“Thank you, but you needn’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“No, but I hate to imagine you all alone. Raising your little sister while you yourself were a child.”
Sometimes he says just the right things to endear him to me a little more. I have never been friends with a boy before. But I think I might just be forming friendships with these two as we travel on the road.
He thinks you’re a beauty.
The thought comes unbidden, sending a flash of panic through me like a whiplash.
It shouldn’t matter. It’s not as though he knows I know. Yet the thought still seems to make me uncomfortable in his presence. I can’t control it.
Maybe it’s the fact that Secret Eater came to be because I thought him beautiful. And then the sword shared such a similar word regarding Kellyn’s thoughts about me.
Beauty.
Such a silly, superficial thing, and yet, so much danger was created because of it.
* * *
The days grow into weeks on the road. With Temra’s new fighting ability revealed to the group, she’s somehow talked Kellyn into sparring with her in the evenings before we turn in for bed. Since there was nothing I could do to prevent it, I watched from the sidelines once, but after snapping at Kellyn when he shoved Temra backward, she begged me to leave.
I watch them from afar now so Temra doesn’t know I’m spying.
She’s incredible. She has a natural grace in the way she swings, and I’m so impressed by the strength she manages to force into each thrust of her sword. Kellyn barks instructions to her, but I’m too far away to hear.
“She’s really good,” Petrik says from where he crouches down beside me, his eyes also on the sparring pair.
“She is.”
We watch as Kellyn pauses to get behind Temra and correct a stance. She snaps something to him good-humoredly, and he grins in response.
“What do you think they’re saying?” Petrik asks.
“They’re flirting.”
Petrik takes his eyes off them to look at me. “Surely not.” It doesn’t surprise me that Petrik wouldn’t pick up on this. After all, Temra has been flirting right at him for days, and the scholar has failed to notice.
“I know my sister. She’s very good at it. And, well, just look at him.”