My breaths came heavily, a teasing smile forming. "I told you that daggers are my speciality, did you doubt me?"
"Never."
I turned my attention to focus on a drop of dew making its descent down a blade of grass at my feet instead of his gaze that bored into me as I reached for the two whetstones we had cast aside earlier, tossing one to him.
Settling into a cross-legged position on the ground, the sound of sharpening blades filled the silence as we fell into our routine.
It was surprising how comfortable it was to be in Roan's presence, that dangerous undercurrent still brimming just beneath the surface, but it seemed easier now. A steadiness in our interactions that seemingly lifted the heaviness that usually encased me.
It felt as if a tenuous friendship was beginning to form, and I didn't entirely hate it.
"What's the deal with you and McCay?"
My head snapped up, my dagger slipping a bit as I met his gaze, but his was not on me, instead fixated on a point over my shoulder. I turned slightly, searching for the source of the ire that flamed in his eyes.
A head of golden hair was slowly making its way across the field, a path that would lead the culprit directly to where we were sitting. A groan slipped from my lips as I ran my blade against the stone once more, actively ignoring the man that approached.
"I'd rather not say.” My response had his brow rising, his hand stilling from where it sharpened his blade.
Nine Hells, this was the last thing I wanted right now. With the quest so close, I felt as if it was a tangible thing I could reach out and touch. A spark of longing ignited within me to begin the adventure.
A spark that was immediately snuffed as an aggravating voice spoke far too close for comfort. "Sy, do you have a minute?"
Sy.
The familiarity in that name had my hackles rising, my skin itching.
"No."
The singular word was clipped, nearly emotionless, besides the small trace of annoyance that I let linger in it. There was silence for a moment, a tension building in the air as Aldrin stood awkwardly before Roan and I.
"Come on, don't be like this Sy—"
"If I speak with you now will you leave me alone and just let me do my trials in peace?"
A throat cleared and I glanced over. Roan's attention was firmly fixed to where the blade of his sword glided over the whetstone, but I could see the smirk that lifted the corner of his lips. With a huff, I tossed my dagger onto the grass, checking that my second was still securely strapped to my thigh, and rose to my feet in one smooth movement.
I briskly walked a few feet away, opting for privacy before I rounded on Aldrin.
"What do you want?" The question came out harsh, perhaps harsher than I had intended, but my frustration was choking me. Crawling a fiery path up my throat that had my fingers curling, dancing across my palm as I tapped a nervous rhythm.
"Are you truly so bitter over what happened that we can't have evenonecivil conversation?" His exasperated tone had me freezing, my arms going limp with shock.
"Excuse me?"
"You know I tried to get Bran to convince you to at least speak with me after what happened—"
My rage rushed through my ears, drowning out his words. I stepped closer as my eyes narrowed, my feet moving without permission.
“Afterwhat happened?”The chilling, incredulous tone of my voice forced him back a step, surely remembering the ache of a broken nose. "Please do tell me Aldrin, how is," I paused, a finger tapping my chin, "what was her name again, Melody? Melinda?"
"She was a mistake—"
"Yes, I'm sure me walking in on you Nine Hells deep in another woman was just an accident." My tone was mocking now. “Did you slip and fall in Aldrin, was that it?"
His jaw clenched as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “”Glad to see you're still the sarcastic bitch you've always been, Syra." His eyes glinted with a newfound malice as his head tilted slightly. “So what then? You're now the Prince's newplaythingand you're just okay with that?"
My rage tempered a bit at that, brows scrunching in confusion. “What in Soli's wrath are you talking about?"
