โMy brother came home with such fascinating stories when
he studied with Father Ciaran.โ She smoothed her skirt
and stared into the distance. โI suppose they lodged in
my imagination along with Motherโs tales.โ
Isaac snorted. โWhere they are more romantic than real
life. Take my word on that.โ
โHow many have you fought in?โ
He studied his nails but she had most of his attention.
He willed her to come closer, and scolded himself for it.
You canโt ravish her yet. โThis will be my twentieth.โ
Her breath caught in her throat. She knew he didnโt speak
of border wars, religious wars, or clan skirmishes. โIt
need not happen,โ she said.
โIs that so? How can you tell?โ
โI wonโt let it.โ She touched the knife at her belt. โMy
fatherโs blood has been shed. Itโs enough to strike a
balance.โ
He gazed up at her through the dark night. Did she
prophesy? Or was this a mere hope? Damn Cyreth for being
inside when he needed a clear reading on the situation!
Maybe she would speak more. He took a chance and asked,
โWhat balance would that be? What do you see?โ
She took a breath and let it out, waving her hand through
the air. โI see little. A battle.โ After a momentโs
silence, she shook herself. โBut itโs no more than Mother
tells. Whether or not it comes, who knows?โ
โWhat if it did?โ he asked.
โIf it does,โ she said, angling her chin, โwhat does it
matter? I canโt stop it.โ
The moonlight glinting off her eyes accentuated her
innocence. He rose to see them better, but still
maintained his distance. โNo. But you can minimize the
damage.โ
โAs if thatโs as easy as kissing you.โ
Isaac blinked and did as she asked.