A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,100

matter whether they were friend or foe.

“But that is not all that has changed,” Jin said. “You have changed.”

She looked at Bleda then, a penetrating, unblinking gaze.

What does she know? A sensation in his belly, like a stone being dropped.

“Things have happened,” Bleda said, thinking of all that had occurred since Riv had given him his bow. He had fought the Kadoshim, slain Feral beast-men, and even Ben-Elim. “Events change us.”

“You have changed since she came along,” Jin said. She gave Bleda that long look again, as if trying to delve through his eyes and into his head, trying to read his thoughts. Bleda had no doubts about who the she was that Jin was referring to.

“Since Riv gave you your old bow.”

“My brother made it for me,” Bleda said carefully. “It was a great gift to me.”

“And yet she kept it for five years,” Jin snapped.

“Aye, she did. But then she gave it to me, and for that I am grateful.”

“Be grateful,” Jin said. “But not too grateful. I see you watching her.” She stopped, a silence growing between them. A deep breath. “I am your betrothed. We have a great destiny to fulfil, and together we can accomplish much.” She hesitated again. “Do not throw that away. Have your friends, if you must, but…” Now Jin’s hand squeezed Bleda’s, much harder than before, an iron strength in it. “Do not shame me. I will not be shamed.”

Bleda felt an overwhelming urge to tell her the truth. His eyes glanced to his bed, the sheets still crumpled where they had lain. But he also felt a wave of sympathy for Jin. She seemed always so strong, so in control. Self-certain and judging. And yet Bleda could feel the frailty and pride within her. She was a Cheren princess, plucked from her kin and home and dragged away to a foreign land, raised amongst strange people who bore her no love. He understood, because it had happened to him. He knew that she could not be made to appear weak or ridiculed. Strength was all to the Horse Clans of Arcona.

But Riv has my heart.

He breathed in deep, vowing to find a way through this, to find an answer, before it was too late.

“I will not shame you,” he said.

How is it that I have changed so much, and she has not? He remembered the night the Kadoshim came, when he and Jin had run to Drassil’s courtyard and seen the Kadoshim for the first time. Bleda had been frozen, stunned by the Kadoshim’s malice. In the face of their evil he had felt compelled to do something, to try and fight them, but Jin had been happy to sit back and watch them and the Ben-Elim slay one another. A sole memory stood out from that night, when the acolyte had severed the iron-coated hand of Asroth the demon-king. For one terrible moment Bleda had seen the iron encasing Asroth’s body ripple and shift, and worse still, a malevolent light had flared in the demon’s eye, bright and sharp with intelligence and a deep malice that had chilled Bleda’s blood.

Their threat is real.

Ever since that night, Bleda had felt himself drifting from the person he had once been.

“Good,” Jin said, blowing out a long breath. There was even a twitch of a smile at the edges of her lips, “because I would hate to have to kill you.”

Bleda blinked and she smiled wider, what must have been a conscious decision to allow her emotions onto her face. As Bleda had told Riv, the Sirak and Cheren were not cold-hearted, emotionless monsters. They kept their emotions hidden, under guard, and revealed them like a gift to those they trusted and cherished. Jin was telling Bleda she trusted him and allowing herself to be vulnerable, even if only for these few moments. Her smile changed her face.

She will kill me, he realized, if my relationship with Riv becomes… public.

He felt that he should return her smile, knew that it was appropriate, in his culture, but he did not feel the desire to smile. Quite the opposite. He sat looking at her, feeling sympathy for her, edged with guilt.

I will hurt her, if I do not return her smile. I will hurt her more, when the truth comes out. It will; better now than allow this to fester. It will only grow harder if it is left. I must call off our betrothal. But what of Mother? She wants this for our