Paedrin folded his arms, staring blindly into the open sea. “Silvandom.”
Baylen nodded. “I thought as much.”
They were hailed by the sailors as they approached the massive vessel. Ropes were thrown down and Baylen secured them to the oarlocks.
Hettie stood and then gripped Paedrin’s arm. She inhaled deeply and so did he. They both floated up from the boat and quickly crossed to the main deck. The sailors met them with cups of steaming broth thick with vegetables and noodles. The other sailors hauled on the ropes and pulled the heavy load up the side. It would take a while to bring it back.
After giving direction to the helmsman about their destination, Hettie took Paedrin and the soup back to their shared quarters. Being away from the ship had made her legs a little unsteady, but she quickly got used to the swaying motion. Paedrin sat down on the edge of the cot, burying his face in his hands.
“Eat, Paedrin,” she said, handing him the cup.
Holding it with both hands, he took a sip of the broth. “It’s good.”
Hettie was ravenous herself and sat cross-legged on the cot opposite his and wolfed down the soup. The vegetables were crunchy and there was just enough salt to flavor it. The two slurped in silence and Hettie mopped her chin on her sleeve.
“I could get more,” she suggested, staring across at him. He was brooding.
“One is fine.”
“What are you thinking?”
He rubbed his wrists, which were still bound by the cuffs and chain. She could see blood on his skin. She waited for him to speak, wiping the edge of the bowl and then licking the salty broth from her finger.
“I meant what I said about the Shatalin temple,” he said in a determined voice. It bordered on being a growl. “That place was meant for Bhikhu to train. How did it get overrun?”
“I doubt we’ll ever know. The first thing we must do is fix that gate.”
His mouth twitched and he cocked his head as if looking at her. His eyes were open but not focused. He stared just to the left of her. “We?”
She set the bowl down on the edge of the cot. There was that look on his face again. She saw him swallow.
“I haven’t finished my training yet, Master,” she said softly. She put just a little bit of emotion in her voice, an unspoken promise.
He stared dully at her and said nothing.
“What did you think I meant?” she asked, leaning forward, studying his face for any sign of a reaction.
“Well, you said ‘we.’ That implied that after we conquer the Scourgelands—”
“Which we will of course,” she interrupted, shifting herself off the edge of the cot so that she was even closer to him. She saw a little flush creep into his cheeks. He was trying very hard to pretend not to be affected by her closeness. She had been watching him struggle with his feelings for days now. Good.
“You think so?” he asked curiously. “It destroyed the last group that went there.”
“They were not us.”
“But they also thought they could defeat it.”
“We have knowledge they didn’t have. But go on, Paedrin. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
He cleared his throat. The faint flush in his cheeks began to deepen. She was certain it was driving him mad not being able to see her expression. He was listening to her words and trying to discern more than the literal meaning.
“I was saying that I intend to return and toss out those imposters. Obviously I won’t be returning to Kenatos and teaching there.”
“Obviously.”
“But when I said that I would be returning, I did not think that perhaps you might want to come as well. You have your freedom now, Hettie. You can go anywhere you want to go.”
She smiled at the uncomfortable expression on his face, as if he were writhing with emotions inside and barely able to suppress them. It was difficult not to laugh.
“What?” he asked, his face perplexed.
“But I have not finished my training yet,” she said. “You promised to train me.”
He swallowed again. She was torturing him and she knew it. “Is that what you wanted then? You wanted more training?”
“Of course. You have knowledge that few possess outside of Kenatos and Silvandom. I wish to learn it.”
“Oh,” he answered, his voice sounding disappointed.
“I also need to thank you,” she answered in a low voice, rising from the cot. “You saved my life when I fell from the cliff. You’ve saved it more than once. It is a debt that I must repay in the Romani way.”