Page 48 of The Daughter of the Scarred Elf

“About what?” Herja tilted her head to the side.

“Come on, you know what.” Brenda grinned. “Is she going to accept that date with Asger? They’d make a beautiful couple, don’t you think?He’sgorgeous,she’sgorgeous. They’d be the power couple of this fort.”

Herja lit up. “Ah,that. I haven’t asked her yet what her response was.”

Ivar’s lip curled back and he reached for his drink. “Oh, they’d be the perfect bloody couple all right. The image of virginal, pure love.” He downed his drink in seconds.

Perhaps Kolfinna wasn’t the only one nursing a wounded heart.

Inkeri returned a minute later with two plates full of steaming food. Kolfinna picked at the roasted lamb, chicken, rosemary potatoes, crumbly cheeses, and herby vegetables on her plate. She couldn’t taste much and didn’t try to converse with anyone either. They all talked about the mission, about the goblins, how they fell through the ceiling, and about the children, and every other detail that fascinated them. Blár ate and listened, laughed and smiled, and offered his own words now and then.

Kolfinna could barely look at him.

She could feel his glacial eyes roam over to her from time to time, but she only stared at her plate and then at the exit. She picked at her food distractedly. It was a sumptuous, delectable meal—she could tell by just looking at—and she wished she were more capable of appreciating it.

“Do you want to try the desserts?” Inkeri asked her. She had finished everything on her plate and was dabbing her mouth with a linen handkerchief. “They have honeyed oatcakes and rice pudding?—”

“I think I’ll actually be heading to my room,” Kolfinna said, rising to her feet. She gave a small nod to the rest of the group, who were too engrossed in their conversation with each other to give her more than a wave. “I’m pretty tired.”

Kolfinna hated the pity she found in Inkeri’s eyes. “All right then. I’ll see you tomorrow at training, yes?”

“Sure.” Kolfinna departed from the table, keen on escaping up to her room, curling up in a ball, and clearing her mind. It was probably better this way, she told herself. If she was planning on leaving this place for good, it was better that she didn’t have attachments to anyone—especially Blár. Romantic feelings had never been on the table for her.

Two steps away from the exit. She could go to her room and cry?—

The air shifted with a cool breeze before Blár even said her name. “Kolfinna.”

She faltered and turned. He was a few feet away from her and now that she was looking at him, she noticed a few things she hadn’t before—like how his mussed hair was slightly damp, how he smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and clean soap, how his blue eyes appeared almost silvery blue against the moonlit sky behind him through the wall of windows.

Between him and the exit, she would’ve rather stayed with him, but then the image of Herja kissing his cheek twisted her heart painfully, and she turned to the door. “I’m tired, Blár, and?—”

The excuse fell away when he touched her arm gently. “Why are you acting like this?”

She could feel the eyes on them without having to look at their table. Could practically sense the daggers Herja was sending her way. Kolfinna stared at his hand pointedly, and he removed it. “Look, Blár—” Sure enough, she caught everyone at their table watching them.

He followed her gaze to the table and frowned. “We need to talk.”

“No—”

“Come with me.” He didn’t wait for a response and left the room.

Kolfinna hesitated for a second longer before following after him. They didn’t go far. Across the hallway, Blár opened the door, peeked inside, and then ushered her forward. It was a small conference room, by the looks of it. A round table took up the center of the room and there were a dozen chairs circling it. Two square windows took up one of the walls, casting the room in a silvery glow, which battled with the waning orange fire smoldering in the hearth.

The door clicked shut behind Blár while Kolfinna ventured deeper into the room, putting as much distance between them as she could.

She dragged a hand over the rounded ears of the chairs as she passed them by. “So? What did you want to talk about?”

Blár mimicked her movement but from the opposite end of the table. His hands gently rested on the back of one of the chairs. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not?—”

“You’re a terrible liar, so don’t even try it.” He pinned her with a slightly confused stare. “What’s bothering you?”

The lies she was prepared to say died on her tongue. She didn’t like how he knew that about her. That observation that nobody else seemed to have picked up on. Not even herself.

“Kolfinna, what’s wrong?” Gone was the confidence of a black rank. The arrogance, the laughter, the fun. His eyes searched her face and her body tensed.

She hated the effect he had on her. Her heart was already racing, her thoughts a blur. But the ache in her chest only intensified. Still, she didn’t talk.

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