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Bryn had red hair, curly and wild, with greenish-blue eyes, and pale, freckled skin that was not made for a person living in the desert. Her drab-brown and beige dresses were sown together over and over again, only one dress in her possession in any decent shape. She blended in, though, and that was a blessing when avoiding the townspeople, but she wished she could walk around during the day as Ava did, have her pick of men, and just... be free.
Bryn shook the thoughts away before she became depressed and ignored Kessler’s summons to go cry in her bed.
Things that were not to be were not worth dwelling on.
As the crowd thinned to a trickle, Bryn cautiously made it to the open wooden double doors of Kessler’s shop.
The heat of the forge hit her immediately as she stepped inside, moving out of the way of the door should there be any stragglers outside. How he could stand in this all day long and not pass out was beyond her.
“You grow used to it,” he responded, and she realized she had said the words aloud. Slightly embarrassed, she fidgeted with a button on the sleeve of her shirt.
“But it feels damn good to be in here during the freezing season. People are always bothering me during that time. This”—he waved to the fires that blanketed the place in horrid heat— “keeps people from bothering me. I’ll take this discomfort over mindless chatter.”
“Perhaps I should take up working in here with you,” she joked. Oh, to never be bothered by hateful people and have a normal sleep schedule.
“Welcome to it. You are one of the few who isn’t blathering on about needless shit to keep the silence away.” He gave her a small smile as he put something burning hot into water, the sizzle and pops making her aware of how humid it was in the room. Her curly hair was going to be an ongoing issue tonight.
“I can’t handle the heat, so I’ll stay out of the forge.” Moving to a chair, Bryn took a seat, watching the man work. His muscles moved in a rhythmic dance under his shirt and leather apron. The sweat glistened on his skin, and she wondered why she’d never seen him as a potential partner. He would have been a lot easier to deal with than Declan, that was for sure.
The feeling just never came for her to act on. For either of them, she assumed since he never tried either. Perhaps she was an idiot, or perhaps she went with the one man whose protection guaranteed her safety. Letting him court her until she let her walls down and eventually opened her heart to him. He was quick to hug her, take her hand, almost like he was trying to prove she didn’t need to worry about fits.
So she’d fallen into his bed instead of another man’s. Worries of a vision lost to the bliss she felt in his bed.
A bed she bet Ava had visited as well.
At a lull in Kessler’s hammering, she finally said something to keep from woolgathering further.
“You called for me?”
Kessler’s head popped up from where he was working, almost as if he had forgotten she’d been there this whole time.
“Yes!” Turning, he moved to a wooden table where he did the negotiations and designs of items for his customers and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. Opening it, she gasped.
A dagger, beautiful in the seamless lines of the blade, the hilt black with bits of red catching the light.
It was exquisite. Reaching out to touch it, she stopped herself, putting her fingers to her lips instead.
“I cannot afford to pay for such...” Stepping back, she shook her head, unable to say more.
Overwhelmed was the best description she could come up with of how she felt.
“I didn’t make it for coin, Bryn. I made it foryou.” Wrapping the dagger back in the cloth, he placed it in front of her on the counter. “Take it. Please.”
Her eyes moved to his face, and she saw how much he needed her to take it in his eyes. There was so much more to this than she knew. Hesitantly, she placed her hand on the dagger but didn’t wrap her hands around it.
Shaking his head, Kessler put his hands on the table in front of him, looking down at the floor. Was she dismissed?
Stepping back, she folded her arms, readying herself to leave, when his coarse voice caught her like a fly in a web.
“You remind me of my sister...”
Kessler had a sister? She’d never known or heard about her.
Bryn didn’t dare ask where she was. His body language told her this was not a happy story.
Looking up at her through his dirty-blond hair, dirt and sweat marring his brow, he grabbed a rag from his apron and wiped his face. A movement meant to give them both time to decide whether they wanted to share this or walk away oblivious.
Bryn stepped forward and leaned on the table. Her choice was made, and Kessler nodded.
