Page 11 of The Daughter of the Scarred Elf

“You’ll find out. I’m sure you’ll meet them in the coming days.”

“Do other people who aren’t a part of our group join too?”

“Sometimes.”

They ate in silence for a moment. Their spoons clanked against the rims of their bowls, and the conversations of the surrounding soldiers lulled over them. It was nice to have someone who didn’t outright treat her like rubbish, but Kolfinna wondered why Inkeri was sitting with her, instead of acting like Herja. Why she was being civil—nice, even.

Thoughts of Yrsa infiltrated her mind. Yrsa, who had befriended her and then betrayed her. She then thought of Mímir, who had been kind to Kolfinna before and during the Eventyrslot mission, only to betray her as well.

Kolfinna was a bit wary of people being nice to her.

Someone’s palm slammed onto the center of the table in front of Kolfinna, rattling the plates and bowls and jerking her away from her thoughts. Inkeri stiffened; a towering man stood directly behind her, his hunkering body leaned forward so his chest was brushing against her head, and his dark eyes were pinned on Kolfinna.

“Inkeri.” The man moved his meaty hand off the table and rested it on Inkeri’s shoulder, but when he spoke, he stared at Kolfinna. “Sweet thing, what in the actual hell do you think you’re doing?”

Inkeri’s lips thinned. “Unhand me, Bjarni.”

“What are you doing?” The man, Bjarni, leaned down until his white-blond stubbled jaw was grazing her ear. “Fraternizing with the enemy?”

Kolfinna’s hackles rose.Enemy. The uneasiness she had felt just seconds ago vanished. Yes,thiswas what was normal for her. Being treated like an enemy—the Royal Guards had taught her that much. And for some odd reason, it almost made her feel like she was back in the headquarters, ducking her head from the other guards, hoping no one would say anything to her.

Almost.

Inkeri’s hold on her spoon tightened, her knuckles turning white. “I saidunhand me.”

The surrounding people stopped talking and watched with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. Then the conversations at the other tables shushed to murmurs and Kolfinna became increasingly aware of everyone’s stares—on her.

Bjarni released Inkeri, but not before dragging a finger down her arm. “Has this fae girl enchanted you with fae charm? Is that why you’re sitting with her?”

Kolfinna didn’t need to know Inkeri well to know that this looming man—who was at least four heads taller than Kolfinna—made her uncomfortable. To see the way her spine was stiff and how she angled herself away from his body, and yet he kept close. That alone infuriated Kolfinna. It wasn’t so much the words—they were tamer than what she was used to.

The water in the glass pitcher rippled violently until a crack formed along the base of it, bleeding water onto the table. A water elemental, Kolfinna realized, glancing between Inkeri and the giant man. She wasn’t sure which one it was, but if someone was losing control in this situation, it was probably Inkeri.

“I would appreciate it if you left me alone, Bjarni,” Inkeri said icily. She set down her spoon next to her bowl with a loud clack.“What I do in my free time and who I choose to sit with is none of your concern. And, quite frankly, it’s none of your business.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” He placed both hands on her shoulder and pressed forward again. “I’ll?—”

“Stop touching her,” Kolfinna snapped.

Someone gasped. The man—Bjarni—paused and narrowed his eyes at Kolfinna. Even Inkeri looked surprised.

But the one who was the most surprised was Kolfinna. Because the fire in her—the fire of resistance and hot rage—had disappeared a long time ago. It was around the time Katla had died, or when Blár had defeated her. And even though Kolfinna had promised herself after the Royal Guards that she would resist more, snap at people, and speak up, it still surprised her to hear that anger. It was so foreign, but it feltright.

And it reminded her of when she had snapped at Edwin a few weeks ago, when that little fire of hers had grown enough to tell him to leave her alone. When she had decided she was done being a punching bag for the guards. Just like now.

“Stop touching her.” Kolfinna dropped her spoon on the table. He was still touching Inkeri, his thick fingers tightening on her thin shoulder.

“A murderous fae-demon telling me what to do? Something doesn’t seem right about that,” he purred, kneading Inkeri’s shoulders as if to prove his point. The purple badge on his chest contrasted with Inkeri’s yellow one. “You’re not supposed to be here, fae-demon. You should be back in the capital with the rest of the royal bootlickers.”

Inkeri slapped his hand away and tried to rise from the bench, but he grabbed her and shoved her back down. He pressed his weight on her, eyes flashing with irritation. “Inkeri.”

“Let. Me. Go,” she gritted out the words through clenched teeth, her hands tightened into fists.

“I’m still talking to the bitch. Don’t interrupt me.” Bjarni kept his tight hold on Inkeri’s shoulder and leaned his head down to her ear. “Do you want a repeat of last week?”

Inkeri went still, the color draining from her face.

“Fae-demon.” Bjarni turned back to Kolfinna. “You?—”

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