He sighed. ‘I’m immune, not blind.’
She did not know how she felt about that response. She wanted to know why he was immune, and at what point he became immune. And an even bigger part wanted to know if that immunity was for life. But she could not ask those things.
She looked out at the water, feeling far too comfortable tucked beneath his arm. ‘Do you know I have a few bald patches on my scalp where weapons have caught my hair?’
He laughed at that, and the sound relaxed her.
‘No, I didn’t know that.’
‘I don’t know why that’s funny to you.’
‘It’s the way you swing a conversation that’s funny to me, not your baldness.’
She crinkled her nose. ‘I’m not sure I could watch you suffer as I have suffered if our roles were reversed.’
‘Because you’re a better friend than me?’
‘Because I’m a better person than you.’
She felt his body shake with silent laughter. Then his arm fell away, his warmth gone.
‘That’s why I’m a commander and you’re swimming extra laps.’ He snatched up her pants and held them in front of her face. ‘Time to put some clothes on before this conversation gets any stranger.’
She took the trousers and began threading her legs through them. ‘Then are you going to be all chivalric and offer to walk me home?’
He rose, brushing sand off his trousers. ‘Probably.’ He looked away as she slipped her tunic on. When she stood and tried to hand his cloak back to him, he shook his head. ‘Keep it until we get yours. We don’t want you turning into an ice block.’
Eda wrapped it around her. ‘I’m going to succeed, you know. I’m going to complete the training, and Queen Fayre is going to send me to Harlech Castle.’
‘That’s one possibility.’
She searched his eyes for any clues as to his emotional state, but he was an expert at masking his feelings—unless that feeling was anger. ‘Will you worry about me when I’m gone?’
‘Of course,’ he said without hesitation.
‘Will you miss me?’ She was not sure exactly what she was fishing for. Perhaps she simply needed reassurance that she meant something to him after weeks of being pummelled at his request. Or maybe the conversation about Hildred had stirred some feelings she had tried very hard to bury.
His eyebrows came together. ‘It’ll certainly be boring with you gone.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
He looked in the direction of the port. ‘I suppose I will.’
Satisfied, she turned and began walking up the beach. He walked at her side.
‘How long will you grieve if I die?’ she asked.
Roul looked heavenward. ‘Must we have this conversation?’
‘How long?’
He threw his hands up. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Months?’
He met her eyes. ‘If I answer years, will this be over?’
‘Years?’ She studied him as she walked. ‘That’s a long time. Your feelings for me must be deeper than we both realised.’
