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This added to his dread as he considered why he couldn’t let her make a move based on desperation, not until he had what he required.
He shut his eyes and opened them to face her fury. ‘Can we sleep on this? Before we say more that we’ll regret?’ he rasped.
Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits, her face contorted with anger and resentment. Every muscle in her body tensed, ready to lash out at the source of her fury.
Sana’a glared at Killen, then, with a shaky breath, stalked away.
He felt the lurch in his soul and the pall of unwanted remorse.
With a growl, he let her go, knowing she needed time to process.
The following days of training were chilly, to say the least.
It didn’t help Killen had no sidekicks to turn to for relief.
Kaxim and Kione had left him with his two trainers and returned to the Sab?r Hawks’ kambí to ensure the army was ready, awaiting signs of the inevitable battle.
Sana’a would not look him in the eye.
She avoided looking directly at Killen, her gaze fixed on the ground or at a point beyond his shoulders as if she refused to acknowledge his presence.
When she glanced his way, her expression was filled with anger and ice, cold and unyielding.
Her vocal instructions were sharp, icicles dripping from each word, every movement calculated and frigid.
It cut to his core, but he endured it and accepted the punishment she doled out, hoping she’d thaw in time.
One morning, Killen strode into the dining area of the kíota.
He stopped at the sight of Sana’a standing over a bowl of food, stirring it with vigour and staring into it as if willing it to implode.
‘Seems like you want to pulverise the lot,’ he rasped.
She paused and glanced up at him, her expression closed off. ‘Is this your attempt at small talk?’
‘At anything,’ he grated. ‘Whatever it’ll take to break this impasse.’
She ignored him for a beat before lifting her weary eyes to his. ‘Thing is, small talk kills me. I don’t do the insincere and forced variety.’
He jolted with emotion and the wild desire to rock her in his arms but tamped it down.
Raising a brow, he crossed his hands over his chest, leaning a hip on a counter. ‘So talk to me, real talk. What has caused your eyes to cloud over like a storm and made you treat me like shit on your shoe? I have a clue, but I’d like to hear it in your words.’
She sighed for a long moment, looking out of the expansive windows to the dawn sky above Kos.
‘Do you know what it’s like to live like a shikari with a blood oath? One that has to be fulfilled no matter the cost?’
Her voice was almost a whisper, but she continued, oblivious to how he jolted at her words. ‘Do you understand the loneliness of the life I endure? Do you have any idea of what it’s like to lie with the worst dogs in this universe? To seek the company of your fellow predators, to stalk close to them over weeks and months so you can blade them? Do you know what it’s like to survive unexpected attacks in the shadows, running from enemies and beasts hell-bent on killing you? Have you tasted the sting of hunger and the bite of cold during an endless stakeout? How about hunting your quarry for months by stealth to ambush your prey? Always living on the edge and never resting? Or watching all the freakin’ time lest your enemy sink their teeth into it?’
Their eyes met and clashed.
She continued in a monotone voice. ‘And after all that, have you come so close to your mark and had your chance to end them be snatched away?’
Killen tracked forward and, after a beat, shook his head. ‘Nada, I do not know any of those things. I meant well and pulled you out of a situation where the odds were against you.’
‘That was not your call to make.’
‘What if it was?’
