Page 88 of The Daughter of the Scarred Elf

Inkeri inclined her head slightly, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m the weakest in the party. The only yellow rank, and I sometimes feel like I’m less than everyone else in our group because my ranking is lower than theirs, and I think they all subconsciously think it too because they’re always saving me. Or maybe that’s just my incompetence speaking. I was the only one during the mission with that elf who got incapacitated, and both you and Ivar had to rescue me. It’s the same every time we go on a mission—I always need to besaved. And I even get picked on by other soldiers, like …” She nodded in Bjarni’s direction and then swiped at the tears threatening to spill. “I’m a soldier, a warrior, or at least that’s what I’m supposed to be, but I never feel like that. I just feel so …useless.”

Kolfinna was terrible at making someone feel better; she was always so incredibly awkward when it came to situations like this. But she did what she would’ve if Katla was crying; she placed her hand over Inkeri’s and gave it a squeeze. “I’m so sorryyou feel that way. Being a yellow rank doesn’t mean you’re weak or useless. To me, you’re a powerful warrior. You’ve taught me so much about being a swordsman and I think you’re amazing at what you do.”

“I don’t know.” She sniffled and rubbed her eye. “It’s just hard sometimes.”

“I get like that too.” Kolfinna stared at the table, her mind traveling to the Royal Guards. To the feeling of helplessness. “But you have to stay strong and keep fighting.”

Inkeri sighed and blinked away her tears. “I think it’s harder when you’re paired with people who are freakishly strong. Like Ivar and Herja are close to a black rank, and then Eluf and Gunnar are really strong too, and then you add Blár to the mix—and when you’re the weakest? It just crushes you. I know I’m definitely not the weakest in the whole fort and I should be grateful—hell, there arewhiteranks here, so I should be happy that I’m blessed as an Elemental—but … but …” She breathed out shakily. “It’s just so hard not feeling like a failure when you’re with people who are justextraordinary.”

“You’re extraordinary too?—”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Kolfinna frowned. “You are. You’re a great swordsman, you’re great at air magic, and you’re an amazing person. You might not be at Ivar’s, or Herja’s, or Blár’s level, but you’ll get there eventually.”

Kolfinna took a breath to continue—to tell her that she was grateful to have Inkeri around when she felt like she had no one in this fort—but Ivar plopped down on the seat beside Inkeri in that exact moment. His chestnut hair was tousled and slightly damp like he had just bathed; the ends of it curled against the collar of his uniform. And his heterochromatic eyes were set on Inkeri. Kolfinna couldn’t read what he was thinking.

Ivar reached over and picked up Inkeri’s fork. He then stabbed a potato, ate it, and then went after a piece of her fish. Inkeri swatted his hand and he almost dropped the fork on her plate.

“What are you doing?” she started, rubbing the remaining remnants of tears out of her eyes.

“I came to see what was making you cry.” He poked at the fish again with the fork.

Inkeri huffed. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” He gestured to her face with the fork. “Your eyes are red and puffy. Are you telling me that happened fromnothing?”

“Don’t wave a fork at my face.” Inkeri reached over for a linen handkerchief and wiped her eyes with it quickly. Her cheeks and nose were red from crying, and her eyes were slightly puffy even though she hadn’t shed many tears.

Ivar studied her, and for just a moment, concern washed over his face. Kolfinna looked between the two of them and suddenly felt like she was invading a private moment. Maybe she should leave them two to talk things out? Maybe Ivar could console Inkeri and they could talk about their feelings?

“You look like a stray cat,” Ivar said, prodding at the fried fish once more.

Inkeri’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Kolfinna closed her eyes.This man …

“Do youalwaysruin perfectly good opportunities, or just when it involves your love life?” Kolfinna said with an eye roll.

Ivar arched a dark eyebrow. “My love life? I hardly see how?—”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure you don’t see what I’m talking about.” Kolfinna shook her head and noticed the blush spreading over Inkeri’s face. Maybe it wasn’t Kolfinna’s place to say anything,but if she didn’t give them both a little nudge, she doubted there would be any progress. “Look, both of you need to talk.”

“Kolfinna.” Inkeri shot her a mortified look.

“I know, I know, I’m overstepping.” She sighed. “But I want to help.”

“Help?” Ivar looked confused.

“Ivar, get some confidence and gain some initiative, all right? And, Inkeri? Lighten up sometimes.” Kolfinna rose from her seat and picked up her half-eaten plate of food. “I’m not the best person to talk to about romance, but I think you both need to figure out your feelings.”

“What are you talking about?” Ivar was still trying to look incredulous, but she could see the redness tingeing his ears, like he had been caught doing something.

“That’s for you to figure out.” Kolfinna stepped out from the bench and gave them both a hard look. “Good luck.”

She really did hope they sorted out their messy feelings for each other.

Kolfinna foundBlár in one of the indoor training rooms. Similar to the underground one she frequented with Joran, it was a large room with tall ceilings and barren walls. The entire room was empty, save for the ice stalactites on the ceilings, the sheets of bluish white that thickened the walls, and the crackle of shiny ice across the floors. Kolfinna almost slipped when she first stepped in. Her breath puffed out in white clouds and she truly felt that winter had nothing on Blár’s ice.

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