Page 101 of The Daughter of the Scarred Elf

Out of breath, he said, “Kolfinna! You’re all right.”

Kolfinna stiffened. She didn’t want to see Joran. In fact, she didn’t want anything to do with him. Even looking at his face, at his relieved expression, only filled her with loathing, which she could hardly contain or conceal.

“Joran,” she said icily.

Blár blinked and looked between the two of them, while Joran watched her with a conflicted expression.

All she could see was Joran turning his back to her when the fae warrior had whisked her away. She should’ve been used to the bitter feeling of betrayal—she had experienced it thrice now, once by Revna, another time by Mímir, and most recently by Yrsa—but she still couldn’t swallow down the thickness of her throat. Like a clump of ice was stuck in there.

Joran took a hesitant step forward.

“Joran, why are you here?” Kolfinna grasped a handful of the duvet in her clenched fist and glared at him.

“I came to help you.” Joran shot a dark look in Blár’s direction. “I saw you being taken alone in a bedroom, so I thought to help you.”

“Taken alone?” Kolfinna blinked back in surprise and couldn’t help the shrill laugh that bubbled in the back of her throat. How dare he act like hecaredfor her well-being. “You’re talking like Blár is going to hurt me. He won’t.”

Blár peered down at Joran with narrowed eyes, and a breeze kicked up from the gaping hole in the room. “Why would you think I would bring her here to hurt her?”

“You tried to kill her once.” Joran unclenched and clenched his fists, like he was itching to punch something—or someone. “I wouldn’t put it past you to do it again. Besides, I thought it more appropriate that I come here and tend to her wounds.”

The air in the room stilled and Blár’s eyes darkened considerably. Like a storm passing over a frozen ocean. Any warmth that was in the room evaporated instantly, and Kolfinna wasn’t the only one who noticed. Joran’s shoulders stiffened, but he held Blár’s glacial gaze.

Blár spoke slowly, his voice smooth yet sharp. “You think you’re more appropriate to tend to her wounds? What makes you say that? By the way she’s glaring at you, I highly doubt she wants anything to do with your scrawny ass.”

“She needs help undressing.” Joran’s lips wavered. “I?—”

“Undressing?” Blár took a step forward and the temperature in the room dropped to sub-zero in a split second. “You came in here to help herundress?”

Joran’s fists trembled, but he raised his wobbly chin up in defiance. “Yes.”

Kolfinna wasn’t sure what was more shocking, that Joran wasn’t stuttering or that Blár was actually speechless. Or the fact that Joran had come here to helpundressher.

“Joran,” Kolfinna finally said, unable to hide her astonishment, “what in the world are you talking about?”

A blush spread over Joran’s cheeks—something Blár seemed to notice because his lips curled. Joran cleared his throat andstared at her levelly, pointedly ignoring Blár. “I noticed you’re hurt, so I came here to help you. I’ve seen it all before, so it doesn’t matter. Right?”

Blár inhaled sharply while Kolfinna went very still.

Time seemed to freeze. Nobody said anything, nobody moved, and nobody breathed.

That snake. Kolfinna wanted to shout at him, to scream that he was being obscene, or that he would give Blár the wrong idea, but she couldn’t move. She could only stare dumbly at him and then at Blár, who had gone rigid as ice.

Blár’s voice was low, dangerous. “Who are you?”

“Joran—”

“Listen,Joran.” He spat his name like it was poison on his tongue. “I don’t give a shit who you think you are, but you’re not going to help Kolfinnaundress. I don’t give a shit if you saw her buck-ass naked, or if you flashed your two inches at her. Get the hell out of here before I freeze you and chuck you out of here myself.”

Kolfinna could see the flash of fear in Joran’s eyes; Blár wasn’t one to bluff. Joran must’ve realized that too, but he remained rooted in place. Wide-eyed like a doe in front of a raging wolf. Maybe fear kept him in place. Or maybe stupidity.

Kolfinna rubbed her aching temple with her one good hand. Her shoulder was becoming stiffer by the moment, and the dried, caking blood on her wounds made any movement uncomfortable. “Joran,” she said with a wave toward the door. “Please leave. We can talk later.”

Blár gave Kolfinna a side-eyed look; he probably didn’t like that last part.

But that seemed to perk Joran up—the prospect of talking again. He nodded and backed away quickly, casting a wary glance in Blár’s direction. “I’ll be back later. Um, I hope you feel better.”

After he left, Kolfinna released a breath and sagged on the bed. It was arduous having to stay awake. And with her mana completely tapped out, she was even more exhausted than usual after a battle.

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