Page 73 of The Daughter of the Scarred Elf

Because she didn’t want to reveal the truth. That she was somehow related to all of this. That she was related to the heir somehow. That Revna had thought she was the heir. That she was potentially part elf. That the best solution to keep Ragnarök down would be to kill her.

“I have my reasons,” Kolfinna muttered.

“And those reasons are …?”

She sighed and balled her hands into fists. They hurt less than they had twenty minutes ago. “Blár, I don’t want to tell you. Can’t you get the hint?”

“No, I want to know why you’re interested in this elf woman. Is it because of what’s happening at the southern border? With those fae and elven soldiers?”

She flinched. The half-elf commander’s armies. “Sort of.”

“You think it’s related to Ragnarök?”

“Yes, and I’d like to ask her a few questions regarding it.”

“You don’t have to involve yourself in it.”

“Blár, I have questions for her that maybe only she can answer,” Kolfinna said carefully. “I’d like to speak to her. Do you have any idea where she might be kept?”

Blár went quiet and studied her for a minute. Time slowed and she thought he’d never say another word, but then he said, “I’m not sure, but I think Sijur has another facility down below this fort. It’s just a hunch, but we’ve been noticing that he goes down to the lower level and just … disappears. I’m thinking there’s a secret door somewhere, or … I don’t know. Maybe that’s where she’s kept?”

There was a basement level down below. The one Kolfinna trained in with Joran. Except, there wasn’t a secret entrance. It was literally a door?—

Unless, Joran used stone magic to unearth the door every time before they trained?

There could potentially be many underground entrances and exits, then, if Joran was using stone magic to close and open passages and doorways.

She would have to look into that.

“Kolfinna.” Blár inched closer to her. She watched as he lifted a white curl and twisted it around his finger gently, his gaze locked on the hair.

Her face warmed and her mind traveled to those moments back on that frozen lake, where he had similarly taken ahold of her hair and kissed it. She had wanted so much more out of that little interaction.

His next words, however, froze her blood. “Why is your hair white?” He said it with mild curiosity, not with harsh judgment or because he was connecting the dots of her potential elf blood, but it still made her mind stutter.

“W-What?”

“Your hair. You never told me why it turned white.” He rubbed the white strands between his fingers, ever so gently. Even as her anxiety ramped up, a thrill ran down her spine.

Her heart was still racing. If she was going to tell him everything—about her elf blood, her connection to the heir situation, and all the changes happening to her body—now was the time. Blár was probably the only one she could trust with this information—trust that he wouldn’t turn her in. But she couldn’t find the words, as if her throat was thick with syrup. “Um, I’m actually not sure.”

“Hm.” Blár released the curl. “It suits you.”

“Does it?” She laughed nervously and tucked the strand behind her ear. “I think it makes me look … weird. Like I’m getting old or something. It also makes me stand out?—”

He pointed to her head. “Is itjustyour hair? Or …?”

She blinked. He held her gaze.

And then a flush ran over her skin. “B-Blár, what the hell?—”

He threw his head back and laughed while she blushed furiously. She smacked his shoulder lightly, the one that had been injured, and he winced, but it didn’t stop his laughter.

“A man will always be a man,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Even a black rank.”

He stretched out his legs and winked. “It was a valid question. And besides”—he braced his elbows on his knees and tilted his head to stare at her—“you’re smiling. Finally.”

“Idiot.” She laced her hands together and tried not to stare at Birgitta’s blood staining her uniform. The thought of the woman made her smile wilt again. “Anyway, I think I’m going to head back to my room. Thanks for … everything.”

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