Page 102 of The Daughter of the Scarred Elf

Blár rummaged through one of the nightstands beside her bed; his back was to her. “So,” he said, yanking open the bottom drawer. “Who the hell is he? And what was he talking about?”

“He’s Joran.” Kolfinna stared at the cracks and soot stains lining the ceiling. Whoever’s room this was, one of them must’ve been a fire elemental. “I don’t really know why he acted like that. He’s normally more … quiet.”

“He felt threatened by me,that’swhy.” Blár pulled out a wad of bandages and a jar of thick, dark brown, syrup-like liquid. He popped open the lid, took a whiff at it, and crinkled his nose. “Shit.” He gagged and pulled it away from his nose. “I’m guessing this is some sort of medicine.”

“What else would it be?”

“The color looks like shit.”

Kolfinna leaned back into her pillow. “Nobody would just … poop in a jar and keep it in their dresser.”

Blár gave her a long look while he placed the jar on the nightstand. “You underestimate people. Especially soldiers—malesoldiers.”

Kolfinna laughed again, glad for the joke to relieve some of the tension in the room.

“Maybe this shit belongs to his girlfriend.” Blár placed the wad of bandages and whipped out a knife from a hidden pocket inside his boot. “You never know with some of these freaks. Anyway, how are we going to do this? Do you want me to call in a female soldier to help you?”

That was probably the most appropriate of choices. Having a male—and not just any male, butBlár—tend to her wounds meant that she would, indeed, have to undress to some degree.

But if the elves and fae came back for her, Blár was the only person who could truly protect her. That was the reasoning she used, but she knew it was deeper than that. There was a part of her that wanted to undress in front of him. Gauge his reaction. See if he actually did like what he saw.

That was probably her vulnerability talking.

Or something else.

“Um.” Kolfinna cleared her throat. It didn’t really matter whether she got stitched up or not; once here mana replenished itself, she would be healed. Besides, the stitches would only hurt more in the end, when she would need to rip them out of her healed flesh. “Uh. I can do it myself.”

Blár looked at her like she was crazy. “Like hell you will. You’re injured, Kolfinna.Badly.” He gestured toward her shoulder and chest. “I’m actually surprised you’re still awake.”

“I’m stronger than I look.” Her smile was strained. Her wounds throbbed painfully and she could feel the dregs of sleep and exhaustion calling her name, but her mind was racing. Having Rakel flee and seeing the fae and elf warriors only solidified that this wasreallyhappening. That they were coming for her. That they would find her. Thathewould find her.

Kolfinna still couldn’t tell Blár the truth. That she was part elf. That she could heal herself. That she was related to the heir—that shewasthe heir. That she was somehow the daughter of the ruthless queen and the half-elf commander. That she was anything more than just a normal fae. She didn’t even know what to make of it herself, and even though a part of her wanted to relieve the weight of her secrets onto Blár, she didn’t know how he would react.

Her thoughts were drawn to the hole in the wall, where she could see soldiers helping each other to their feet, or who were tending to their wounds. Everyone was already busy; it wasn’t fair to have Blár give her attention when he could help anothersoldier patch up, especially since her wounds would probably heal in a day or so.

“Go out there,” Kolfinna said, nodding to the courtyard. She wanted Blár to stay with her, wanted to continue to feel the coolness of his presence, but duty called for him to help everyone out there. Her feelings clashed with what was right, and even as she wanted to lean into his presence, she tried to hold herself stronger. “They need your help.”

“With what?” He sat down on the bed parallel to hers. “Unless there are still some enemies out there, I’m not much help to anyone.”

“That’s not true?—”

“Ah yes, I almost forgot—I can provide words of encouragement,” he said with a smirk. “I’m sure that’ll be really helpful.”

She rolled her eyes. “Blár, you can help bandage someone up. Or if someone is stuck under a building or … I don’t know, something like that.”

The moonlight reflected off his blue eyes and made them look darker. “Trust me when I say that if they need me, they’ll find me.” He pointed the tip of his pocketknife at the wound on her shoulder. “Now, if you don’t want me to help you out, that’s fine, I can call someone who can. But don’t tell me to leave with some half-baked excuse that I’m needed elsewhere. I’d rather be here.”

Warmth spread across her chest and she was grateful he couldn’t see her blush in the darkness. “Well, um, okay.” Kolfinna pushed a strand of white hair away from her eyes. She couldn’t think straight—she wanted him here, yes, but she was too embarrassed toactuallyundress in front of him. “I want you to stay here, but I would rather patch myself up.”

“It’ll be painful,” he said with a frown. “I can call?—”

“I’ll be fine. Trust me.” She didn’t plan on stitching herself up.

Blár didn’t look convinced but conceded by placing the knife on the bedside table. “All right then. I’ll get you some water to clean the wound.”

After Blár found a flask of water for her, she went to work immediately. She cut off her sleeve with Blár’s knife, cleaned her wounds with water and a damp cloth, and spread the thick, yarrow-infused concoction on her gaping wounds. Meanwhile, Blár stood at the opening in the wall, his hand lightly pressed on the top edges of the hole while he peered at the courtyard.

“What did he mean when he said he’s seen it all before?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge to his tone. “Was he telling the truth?”

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