Page 104 of The Silversmith

A half hour later, I emerged from the bedroom wearing black pants and the oversized black sweater he’d given me after he attacked me in Tovick. Why I chose to wear it today, I didn’t know. To taunt him, perhaps. Piss him off? Make him happy? See him smile?

All of those reasons, I think.

My thoughts and feelings regarding Gavin were no longer rational. Maybe I wore it just to get something out of him before he was gone.

He waited outside the room, eclipsing the doorway and crowding the hallway with his intimidating size.

“Have you calmed down?” I asked, infusing my tone with annoyance. “Or should I run?”

Saying nothing, he stepped back and motioned for me to pass through the dimly lit hall. With no windows and only a few oil lanterns, it was difficult to tell night from day if not for the bedroom’s window light streaming through the open door behind me.

His finger brushed against the loose fabric on my arm as I passed.

“What?” I demanded, jerking away. “Do you want your sweater back?”

He looked down at me, brow furrowed. “No.”

When he reached to take my bag from me, I dodged him and hurried down the stairs.

Either he could give in to whatever this was between us or I would carry my own damn bag.

I had been too concerned about Gavin’s wounds last night to pay much attention to the inn. It was clean and humble, similar to Damond’s place, only smaller. The innkeeper was nowhere to be found. I wondered if he’d heard us—Gavin—coming and hid.

We requested sausages and eggs from the tiny kitchen beside the foyer and ate together in silence.

To my left, across from the innkeeper’s desk, I saw a mirror that had been fully intact the day before. Today, it was broken. Shattered, like it had been punched. I glanced down at the blood staining the cloth bandage around Gavin’s knuckles. I’d noticed his hand was wrapped this morning but not last night, which meant he’d done it between the time he rejected my kiss and I woke up.

My gaze volleyed between him and the destruction. “Are you going to pay for that?”

His jaw pulsed. But he kept his eyes on me while he fished a small bag of coins out of his pocket and dropped it on the innkeeper’s desk with a deliberate thump. I let his gaze follow me to the kitchen, where I dropped off my breakfast plate, thanked the sweet elderly cook, and walked out the door.

He was cold and distant the majority of the day, but so was I. What we had become—roaring flames one moment, steel ice the next—was not sustainable. I didn’t know much about friendships. Hadn’t had many of them. But I knew that much.

After we mounted the horse, I kept my wolf pelts on as a barrier between his chest and my back. As we rode southwest through thickening foliage, I remained silent and focused on the world around me. Staggering white pines, leafless maples, and mountain ash. The terrain was much like western Wymara—rocky, treacherous, and breathtaking.

If we were only a day from Brinnea on horseback, then we were nearing the ocean.

I had never seen the ocean. Gemma had been to Nyrida’s western shores off the coast of Avendrel a time or two, but not as far east as Brinnea. She’d told me of a southern beach town called Peradine where, in the summer, the women only wore thin strips of colorful cloth and went everywhere barefoot. They were eager and willing to bed when men came to visit. Thus, it was a frequented spot by bachelors from the Caves when not on duty.

I was too afraid to ask how often Elias visited there.

“Are you alright?” His deep voice, rich with concern, washed over me. Startling me, for we hadn’t spoken in hours.

“Yes,” I lied. “Why?”

“You just paled about three shades.” He lifted his thumb and grazed my cheek with it. “Something’s bothering you.”

I huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Disturbingly observant.” When seconds passed with no reply, I added, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The breath of his discontented sigh warmed my neck.

“For the record,” he began after a while. “I don’t mean to be… cruel to you. It’s true that I will not touch you. It’s equally true that I can’t stay away. And my entire existence, Ella, when near you, is nothing but a battle between the two.”

I released a heavy breath and relaxed a little against him. Still vexed but too drawn to his protection to resist. The cadence of the mare’s hooves on the solid dirt trail set a soothing rhythm as we rode.

My frustration faded quickly. It was an effort to stay angry at him when he felt so secure. When he crushed my loneliness.

I fidgeted with the edge of the wolf’s fur and sighed. “Tell me some more things about you.”