Page 93 of Forged in Fading
Boden moved to follow her, but Alvara stopped him with a hand on his chest. “What was that?”
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
She stifled her desire to shove him through a small hole and breathed. “You’re acting like a youngling. What do you have against Pyry? He’s never done anything to you.”
“You’re correct.” He moved away from her touch. “He’s never done anything to me.”
“What happened between Pyry and I years ago is none of your concern. He’s lost everything, Boden. And at least he’s making an effort.”
He threw his hands into the air. “When will you stop defending him?”
Alvara took a step back. “Excuse me?”
“He treats you as if you’re worth nothing, and yet you continue to help him. I will never understand.”
“You don’t have to. My love life isn’t any of your business.” Boden raised his eyebrows at the word love, and Alvara stuttered. “Not love. We’re not—it doesn’t matter. Just leave it alone.”
She stormed out the door, her magic tingling underneath her skin. It begged to be released into the world, but she swatted it away. Gods, she wasn’t even sure why she was upset about Boden’s low opinion of Pyry, when she could hardly say she had felt much differently herself until today.
Something had thrown her off balance. She needed to right herself, and she knew just how to do it. And who she could convince to join her.
“Interested in some good old-fashioned violence?”
Ravanel looked up from the map he had been scrutinizing. “Yes.”
“You’re not even going to ask what I have planned? It could be a murder.”
“Is it a murder?” he asked as he rolled up the parchment.
“No. But I might be close.”
They walked to the nearest clearing in easy silence, the quiet between them illuminating the anger flushing her veins with heat. “Are you left or right handed?”
Don’t stare at his missing arm. Don’t stare at his missing arm.
“Right. At least I was.” The grit in his voice told her enough about how he was adjusting. She wouldn’t let it slow him down.
As soon as they stepped into the clearing and armed themselves with nearby branches, Alvara struck without warning. Ravanel blocked her, albeit slowly, and she blinked. His arm moved awkwardly and seemed unsteady, but he kept up with most of her attacks.
Each blow brought a small tug of pain to her back but also freed another thought from the clutter. Boden didn’t know Pyry. He had no right to judge him when he himself had done terrible things. And Pyry was at least trying to make a positive change. She didn’t exactly want to spend buckets of time with him, but she also wasn’t about to toss him aside as he had done to her.
“You’re pretty decent for a guy with one arm,” Alvara said, tapping Ravanel in the leg when he left his defenses open.
“My father is the head of the Malvan army—that was his seat on the king’s council. He always believed in using every advantage available, including weapon training.”
“You know it will just take time, right? But you’ll continue to gain better control of your left arm.”
He thumped his branch against his thigh, his voice low. “Thank you. For not treating me differently.”
It was all Alvara had wanted when Eloisa and her mother had passed—for people to treat her normally instead of tiptoeing around her like she might collapse in on herself at any moment. “Don’t start being nice to me, Ravanel. It’s too strange, and it might ruin your terrifying reputation.”
“Rav. Just Rav. And I don’t have a terrifying reputation, I just didn’t like you back in Ilmanir.”
Alvara bit her lip to avoid smiling. “Didn’t like me? Or wanted to kill me?”
He looked genuinely confused at her question. “Is there a difference?”
“I would hope so. Well Rav,” she said, dragging out his new nickname long enough to make him roll his eyes, “I’m here whenever you need to…you know.” They were quite the combination, possibly two of the most emotionally inept elves around.
