Page 77 of The Silversmith

Iwoke as the early-morning sun splattered its sharp light through the tree canopy and into the room from the window. Despite the stressful night, I slept well. Thanks to his presence and to the warm spot on my stomach, where something rested heavier than the blankets that swaddled me. I uncovered my hands to feel warm, calloused fingers attached to Gavin’s scarred left hand.

He had kept his hand on me—protecting me, holding me—all night long.

My heart danced. I took advantage of his focus diverted to a vial of dark liquid no larger than my index finger and calmed my heartbeat. He twirled it between the fingers of his right hand, lost in distant thought, staring at nothing.

I made a point to shift and yawn, fully opening my eyes. “Were you there all night?”

He snapped out of his trance, tucked the vial back into the pocket of his black linen shirt, sat up straight, and nodded. “Mostly. I didn’t want you to wake up in an empty room.”

To my left, Gemma’s side of the bed was bare.

“Is she okay?”

He failed to suppress a grin. “I’m sure she’s just swell.”

“Where is she?”

“With Finn.” He folded his hands in his lap. “Has been all night.”

“Oh, right.” Blood rushed to my cheeks as I sat up in bed. “Good for Gemma.”

And then I began to ramble.

“Did you know Finn has wanted to be with her for years?” I sputtered out. “But refused to touch her until she turned eighteen, even though there’s only three years between them.”

I got up from bed. The wooden floor groaned beneath him as he rose from his chair.

“Then she was summoned to Elias’s barracks to participate in Commencement.” I unbraided my hair. A muscle flexed in his jaw as he watched my hair fall over my shoulders, partially bare beneath my nightgown off-kilter from sleep. But he kept his distance. “Then, she was sent to me. And I think, to them, it felt like they would never be able to express their true feelings and be together, that the timing wasn’t right. But I’m glad for them now.” With my brush, I made long, languid strokes very much at odds with my digressions. “They deserve to be happy. Finn is a good man.”

“Finn is a better man than—” He cleared his throat. “Better than most.”

Empathy flooded through me at what I knew he’d been about to say. That he had stopped himself from admitting the type of man he thought he was. I wanted to say something profound to comfort him as he would me, but I didn’t know what that was, and I wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it from me.

Instead, I distracted myself with a look outside the window. Green and crimson solstice decorations brightened the heart of the small city. Tovick townsfolk bustled about the cobblestone streets while dodging horses, rickety carts, and carriages, some simple, some grand. The temple was still beautiful but carried an impending sense of gloom following yesterday’s events. It rose proudly above the homes and shops, some of which had shutters partially ajar to disperse the stuffiness inside with the crisp winter air.

“Will we do more training today?” My bag rested on the floor by the hearth, and when I went to it, I saw all of my clothing washed and folded.

“I’m thinking we should enlist some help from your friends,” Gavin suggested before I could comment on my clean laundry. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “I want to know what Winterton is teaching his soldiers before you go there.” A troubled shadow snaked through his typically stoic expression. “Give yourself a leg up so you can defend yourself if need be.”

I frowned. “Why would I need to defend myself against my own people?”

His nostrils flared, but he kept his cool repose. “After last night, especially, I’ll rest easier knowing you can.”

It was an effort to not read into that. To hear how little he trusted the people in those caves. Because so far, he’d been right about all threats to me.

“Gavin?”

With his hand on the doorknob, he turned back to me.

“I don’t want the others to know what happened last night. Especially Ezra and Gemma. I don’t want them to worry about me.”

Because they would, and they would coddle me for it. He must have read this on my face, because he didn’t object.

“Your secrets are always safe with me.” A coy grin sent my heart aflutter. “I don’t enjoy talking to them, anyway.”

I snorted and watched him go, quickly exchanging my nightgown with a pair of black pants and a matching black sweater. Another outfit Gemma had snuck into my bag, no doubt.

My silver hair contrasted the black fabric, and the faded freckles up and over the bridge of my nose were more prominent than usual against my green eyes. I twisted my hair into a long braid and was satisfied and hungry enough to follow the sweet aroma of breakfast downstairs.