Now that they were side by side, though both Leif and Otho were tall, it was clear that Otho had far more muscle, and likely far more military training than Leif. I think Leif came to the same conclusion as well, because he tossed one more pining look my way, but then ducked out of the tent when I shook my head.
Otho exited after him and I sunk into my cot, resting my head in my hands.
“I’ll sleep here on the ground, just in case.”
I jumped at the deep cadence of Otho’s voice, my hand flying to my chest. “You don’t have to do that,” I protested, grimacing at the thought of sleeping on the hard, cold ground after the discomfort of sleeping sitting against a tree the night before.
“I don’t have to,” he agreed, “but I want to. Though I watched him leave camp just now, I don’t trust that he won’t be back.”
Otho had a point, so I nodded my consent. He ducked out of the tent, returning a few moments later with a bedroll. I observed as he set it up, my heartbeat struggling to calm as I realized what could have happened if he hadn’t shown up when he did.
He’d saved me, again.
“Thanks for chasing him away,” I whispered at last as he slid off his shirt and climbed into his bedroll. It was hard to keep my attention from his muscular form and the large number oftattoos that crossed his tan skin. Many of them were marred with nasty scars, and I knew he really would have punched Leif if he had tried anything.
“Most of them didn’t hurt.”
My mind flashed back to when I had wrapped his shoulder in Salheim, and I blushed. He must have noticed my gaze. “The tattoos or the scars?”
“Both.”
He grinned before blowing out the lamp I had lit when I first came in. “I have a high tolerance for pain.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing.
“Sleep now, Runa. He won’t bother you again tonight.”
I tried, I really did, but my racing heart refused to stop. I don’t know how I knew it, but I could sense Otho was still awake too.
“Otho?”
“Hm?” His response rumbled in his chest.
“I want magic that can help me defend myself.” Not that I didn’t enjoy the sight of Otho rescuing me. Actually, now that I thought about it, some parts of my body loved it a little too much.
“I’ll see what I can do.” His promise was soft in the humid evening air. “It might be as simple as training what you already have. I’ll see what Askel knows tomorrow.”
The words were soothing. Even if I didn’t completely trust Askel, I trusted Otho. I’m not sure when that happened, but I knew now that I would do whatever he asked of me, even if he asked me to jump off a cliff. And though I knew that level of devotion should scare me . . . it didn’t.
At some point, I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to find sunlight filtering into my tent. But when I turned to tell Otho good morning, I found the ground by my bed empty, his bedroll gone.
And as disappointed as I was, I knew it was for the best.
Otho had Friar.
And I had a war to fight.
CHAPTER 31
“Try cupping your hand. See if that allows you to better call the metal.”
Askel and I stood on a dirt patch out of view of the front-lines camp. We’d been at this for hours, and while I’d been able to amplify my wind powers with ease under his direction, I still struggled as I attempted to call a knife from his belt to my hand, sweat rolling down my face and neck.
“Try relaxing more. When you try to force it I think it makes it even harder for you.”
I snapped my eyes shut, inhaling deeply before opening them once more. I focused on the knife at his belt, the one with the engraved handle. The one with the face that was looking right at me.Come to me.
It didn’t even wiggle.
