Chapter 66
Durvla
Beneath the cloudy sky, a gentle breeze rustles the shrubbery around me.
Sweat breaks out across my brow as I focus on the tree several paces ahead of me.
I’ve lost track of how many times my dagger has landed in the grass.
A moment ago, it landed directly in front of me as if I hadn’t even thrown it. I could’ve lost a toe.
Kilkenny gives me the space I need, but his focus on me is tangible.
“Stop looking at me,” I say.
“How am I supposed to teach you if I don’t look at you?”
He has a point, but I don’t admit it. These dagger-throwing lessons are overdue—I know it’s important that I’m able to defend myself in the case of another ambush or something, but I hate this. I cannot fathom ever throwing a dagger at someone.
I adjust my stance again, one foot forward, my knees slightly bent.
I have the blade of the dagger lightly in my hand just as Kilkenny showed me.
The tree is far away, and I need to lift my arm higher, or is it lower?
Perhaps I need to bend my elbow more so that my hand reaches my ear or is it supposed to be above my head?
My mind buzzes with all the information that I thought I knew.
I’m not cut out for this. Better I just quit rather than continue to embarrass myself.
“You’re not embarrassing yourself.”
Kilkenny’s voice in my head still startles me, and I flinch, the blade of the dagger biting into my skin.
I suck in a sharp breath and drop the dagger to the ground as blood wells and trickles between my fingers.
I clutch the wound with my other hand and turn to face Kilkenny.
He’s already right beside me and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Gods, Kilkenny …” I mumble.
He frowns at me. “You’re extra skittish today.”
“Well, it’s hard not to be when I can get pulled into a terrifying dreamscape at any moment.” It’s been a couple of days since that happened, but it still has me on edge.
Kilkenny’s expression softens.
“I hate that I can’t control it. I keep thinking I’m going to drop again. What if I fall off Ghendor?”
“I won’t let that happen,” he signs. He extends his hand to me. “Let me see.”
Blood is still dripping, and the sight makes me slightly woozy as I extend my injured hand to Kilkenny. I turn my head away, but he waves my attention back to him. “Permission to heal you?” he asks.
My brows knit together before I remember he can mimic any power in the vicinity.
I shrug, but he says, “I need you to say it.”
“By the gods, Kilkenny. Please heal me before I collapse.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Are you afraid of blood?”
“Not afraid. I just don’t like it.”
He smirks as he places his hand over my wound. A slight wince plays over his face as my pain melts away, and my palm itches as the skin is mended. When he releases my hand, the ache is gone but it’s still covered in blood.
“Does it hurt?” I ask. “Healing, I mean.”
“I’m not entirely sure about Healers in general—you’ll have to ask Alys. But as a Whisperer, I can feel what others feel.”
“I didn’t realize that,” I say, frowning. “So, it’s more than mind reading.”
“Right. It’s also empathy. Reading or speaking into someone’s mind takes a lot of energy. Except with you … Sometimes, your thoughts just jump into my mind.”
I’m not sure I like that …
“Sometimes!” He holds up a hand as though making an oath. “When your thoughts are particularly loud. But please know that the last thing I want to do is invade your privacy.”
That’s sweet of him.
“We should work on your shielding more.”
I roll my eyes, though I cannot help but smile. “Clearly.”
He takes my hand in his again. “How does your hand feel?”
My lips tug up in a small smile. “I’m beginning to think you’re just using this as an excuse to hold my hand.”
Kilkenny chuckles. “Maybe I am.”
My smile widens.
“Let’s just see if I did an Alys-worthy job or not.” He reaches for the waterskin on his belt and opens it without releasing me.
I gawk at him in disbelief. “How did you open that with one hand so easily?”
“What can I say? I’m very skilled with my hands.” His eyes meet mine with an air of mischief, and my heart dithers.
I don’t shy away from his onyx gaze, even as it intensifies.
A heartbeat later, he pours cool water over my palm and pulls a clean rag from his trouser pocket.
As he rubs the cloth over my bloodied skin, the tip of his tongue pokes out from the corner of his lips.
His focused face is so endearing that I can’t tear myself away.
His silver streaks slip free from the rest of his dark hair and partially cover his eye.
I want so much to brush the strands back, but I restrain myself, clenching my free hand.
When he lifts the rag, there’s just smooth, clean skin. No blood, no scar. It’s incredible. Kilkenny gently slides his thumb over my palm and my stomach flutters.
Gods, what other kind of magic does this man have that he affects me so? I’ve never felt this way before. I’m not even sure I want to.
“There,” he says as I’m still trying to pull myself together. “Good as new.” He tilts his head slightly, regarding me. “All good?”
I nod and gently pull my hand from his grasp.
Kilkenny runs his fingers through his dark hair, mussing it up, and I can’t figure out for the life of me how he makes that so captivating.
He bends to pick up my dagger and cleans it off with the damp cloth he used on my hand.
He dries the blade with two smooth swipes across his trousers, then holds it out to me.
I thank him and slide it back into the sheath on my belt before wrapping my arms around my torso as if I’m cold.
He stares off to the left, somewhere through the trees before turning back to me again. I start to ask him what he heard, but he gestures before I can say anything. “Were you and Osheen ever … More than friends?”
“No!” I speak perhaps a little too hastily.
“He’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember.
Or, well …” I worry at my lower lip and motion, “I don’t know what we are anymore.
” Osheen is out hunting with Chiyo. I’m not jealous, but their new friendship draws attention to the fact that the last relationship from my old life is dwindling.
Kilkenny rubs his stubble idly as he observes me for a while. “Did you have a lover back home? Or someone you were interested in?” His curiosity is genuine, but his body is taut.
“Maybe I do,” I say, flicking my braid off my shoulder.
I have every intention of walking away with an air of mystery.
To leave him guessing. But as I start to strut past him, my boot catches on a tree root.
I throw my arms out for balance, the back of my hand connecting with Kilkenny’s face.
Then the ground is rushing up toward me for the umpteenth time.
Kilkenny’s arms wrap around my middle, tugging me upright.
He saves me from a nasty fall. Again.
My face can’t be any warmer right now. I can’t trust myself to move, so I remain standing there, held upright by Kilkenny’s arms, overly aware that my back is flush against his front.
He turns me to face him, his arm still encircling my waist. “How many times do I have to catch you?” he asks, biting his lip over a restrained smirk.
Feigning nonchalance, I shrug. “You could just let me fall.”
“No, I can’t.” His smile is slow, purposeful. “I’ll gladly catch you a million more times if I have to.”
My traitorous heart flutters. He doesn’t release me, and I don’t object. I melt into his hold, my gaze drawn to his.
And there’s that subtle pull again. I wish I were truly brave enough to explore whatever this is.
“To answer your question …” I start, stepping back from him.
Kilkenny blinks and lets his arms fall, as though he’s only just remembered that we’d been speaking before my clumsy moment.
“… there’s no lover back home. I’m an Undesirable—”
“Durvla—”
“—and I can’t fathom putting that burden on anyone. Taig and I are a joint liability. Me with my ailment and deafness, Taig with his challenges.”
Kilkenny crosses his arms. “You’re not a liability, nor is Taig.”
“Kilkenny, if Forayers discover either of us, anyone involved in keeping our secrets would either be hanged or sent to the Wastelands to die. I’d call that a liability.”
He presses his lips into a line. His cheek twitches in either uncertainty or an attempt at restraint.
After a moment, I say, “Taig lost both his parents. I’m all he has left. He’s my responsibility, and his happiness is essential to me.”
“You also lost both your parents. What about your happiness?”
I huff out a dry laugh. “I was surviving just fine.”
“I didn’t ask about your survival. I asked about your happiness.”
The silence is thick between us for quite some time. I rub my hand over my arm. “If I could go back in time and somehow avoid being brought to Paramount, I would be truly happy. It would be incredible if I could erase the past couple of months.”
A strange expression flickers across his face, but it dies before I can decipher it. His stoic mask slips back into place, and gone is the Kilkenny I’ve gotten to know since leaving Paramount.
Oh …
Erasing the past months would mean I would’ve never met Carys, or Ellynne, Alys, Kilkenny …
“We should get going,” he signs sharply, his lips still a firm line.
“Kilkenny, I didn’t mean—”
But his back is already to me as he moves with quick steps.
I’m glad that I met you, I want to say, but maybe it’s best that he thinks otherwise.