Page 179 of The Sun He Buried

His brows smooth.

Both eyes go flat.

“Did you believe this was a lesson?”

“You were teaching me.”

“I was passing an hour.”

The knife feels colder.

“You do that often,” he says.

“Do what?”

“Walk toward anything dangerous enough to interest you and trust everyone else to keep you from bleeding.”

My fingers loosen.

“That’s not true.”

“A cracked door. The scale yard. A drunk man in the snow. Now this.”

He’s not wrong.

“Then you smile and wait to be praised for trying. A child playing with a knife has better sense.”

My eyes burn.

No.

Not here.

“I didn’t ask you to praise me.”

My voice comes out small.

Eirik’s shoulder jerks.

There.

The skin between his brows pulls tight again.

His eyes harden.

“Watching you mistake attention for respect has become pathetic.”

My face folds.

I can’t hold it.

One tear runs over my cheek.

Then another.

I blink hard enough to make the lantern jump. More spill anyway.

No sob comes.