Chapter Thirty-Two Amund
Edith is late. Dressed in regular clothes instead of my leathers, I grabbed us a booth in one of the far corners of the dining hall, hoping no one will pay us any attention.
The tables around me are full, and more students keep streaming in.
She’ll be here soon, I tell myself, drumming my fingers on the table.
Did something happen in her class? This too-small booth is uncomfortable, but it’s the most secluded spot I could find. Anxiety is getting the best of me. I’m ready to go searching for her when Edith walks in.
She’s wearing a simple black sweater, skirt, and sneakers. I take a moment to appreciate the sight of her from this distance, noticing how her clothes hug every curve. I catch myself quickly. I can’t be thinking thoughts like that. Especially not about the girl Nils clearly likes.
Edith searches the dining hall until she finds me.
A smile spreads across her face as she hurries over and slides into the opposite side of the booth.
“It was him,” she says.
“Shhh,” I tell her, keeping my voice low and casting a quick glance to the other students in nearby booths. “No need to shout. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
“Sorry,” she says quickly, dropping her voice. “But I saw it. Right here.” She rolls up her sleeve before tracing a finger down her forearm. “Right where you said it would be.”
I stare at her arm and how soft her skin looks.
Fighting the urge to feel her myself, I try to concentrate and force myself to nod. “That is consistent with where I attacked him.”
“I tried telling my instructor, but he wouldn’t listen to me.” Edith sags back against the booth with a sigh. “Even though someone else could get hurt.”
My gaze lowers to her lips. Her wound is almost healed now, though a swollen scar traces a delicate line through her upper lip where the other curve should be. It reminds me of a broken recurve bow.
“Maybe I should go to Helga,” Edith adds.
Realizing she’s staring at me impatiently, I clear my throat. “I will.”
“Okay.” She pauses. “Now that we’re at the dining hall, maybe we should get something to eat.”
We each take a tray and slide it down the line. There’s plenty to choose from today: steaming kjotsúpa like my mother used to make, a fully stocked salad bar, and some fresh fruits.
One of the workers, Alda, smiles when she sees us. “Look at you two lovebirds.”
“What?” Edith and I say simultaneously.
Edith holds up her hands, waving them wildly. “No, we’re not together. Not like that.”
Disappointment spears through me. She’s so adamant about it, as if she can’t bear the thought of being with me. Then again, can I blame her? She already has my brother, and until recently, I’ve been hunting her like prey.
This meeting is to find the killer.
Nothing more.
Alda arches an eyebrow, glancing between the two of us like she’s the only one in on a secret. “Uh-huh, sure. I’ve seen that look before.”
Edith starts helping herself to some salad.
“A proper meal is important,” I tell her, realizing once again how much I sound like my father. “You should try some kjotsúpa. Lamb soup is warm and hearty. I like to have some before I go on patrols at night. If you end up not wanting yours, then it won’t go to waste.”
Before she can respond, her stomach grumbles. “I’ll have some. Thanks, I… I’ve had it before.”
With my brother, I’m sure. Wordlessly, we return to the table with our food.
“So class went well, then?” I ask, trying not to sound too interested.
Edith shrugs. “I guess.”
She doesn’t offer anything else, so I decide not to push her.
“You did your part,” I tell her. “Now I need to convince Helga.”
“Tonight?” Edith leans forward. “Don’t you need to rest?”
“Not while Isaac is still out there.”
She looks me over, her gaze lingering. “You look exhausted…”
I rub my hands over my face roughly. My mother said the same thing when she saw me. Maybe it’s more obvious than I want to admit.
“I’m not,” I tell her. “I’m ready for anything.”
I take a spoonful of the steaming soup to buy myself some silence. Edith stares at me, watching while I eat. Somehow, it’s like she can see right through me. She clearly doesn’t believe I’m okay any more than I do.
But she doesn’t make a remark. Instead, she slowly blows on her soup, careful not to sip on the injured side of her lip. “Mmm, this is delicious.”
The enjoyment in her voice does something to me.
Something I’d rather not think about.
“Edith?”
Shit. My gaze snaps to Nils as he approaches our table.
“What are you doing here?” His attention shifts from Edith to me. He looks as though he’s been wounded, and I’m the one responsible.
“I-I told you,” Edith says, sounding flustered as she drops her spoon, “I had plans.”
“You mean going on a date with my brother?” Nils shouts.
I glance around. “Keep your voice down.”
“Is this why you wouldn’t kiss me?” He slams his hands on the table between us. “Because you’re dating him?”
Soup sloshes out of the bowls, splattering over the tabletop.
Edith jumps. “It-it’s not like that.”
I don’t know which stuns me more: how angry Nils is or that he tried to kiss her and Edith didn’t let him. Was I mistaken? Are they not together after all?
Edith shrinks in on herself, making herself smaller.
Her gaze darts desperately over the dining hall.
“I-I was just leaving,” Edith interjects. “Amund, thank you for the meal.” She stands quickly, clearly uncomfortable, and slips out of the booth before Nils can make more of a scene.
“See you later,” she calls over her shoulder while heading for the door.
I realize I don’t know which of us she means.
Nils slides into the booth, taking her spot. He leans over the table, setting both of his elbows down like the spilled soup isn’t there. “You told me to stay away from Edith. Now you’re eating dinner together?” His tone turns accusatory. “Are you dating her?”
“Of course not,” I grunt. I would never do that to him.
Nils narrows his eyes. “You can’t let me have even one thing, can you?”
Before I can respond, he gets up and heads toward the opposite corner, taking a seat at an empty booth. He drums his fingers on the table, clearly agitated. No matter how much he fidgets, he can’t seem to get comfortable.
I stare down at the spilled soup.
My eyes burn as I mop up the mess with a napkin before leaving.