the angels hidden blade

THREE

The ale and bread tasted stale in her mouth as Nefeli deliberately stared at Rhys and the freckles scattered across his cheeks. 

He returned her gaze with wide eyes, seemingly startled, not touching the large lump of red meat in front of him.

"Stop staring," she said gruffly, her frustration palpable, as she tore her bread to shreds in her hands before shoving it into her mouth.

Rhys, however, didn't heed her request. 

His dark green eyes, the color of moss, continued to roam over her, as if she were a puzzle he was trying to decipher. 

"Rhys," she said angrily, her eyes narrowing to slits as her impatience flared. 

The man blinked, finally shifting his gaze to look over his shoulder before returning his attention to her.

"You surprise me," he said after a moment of silence, and Nefeli raised a single eyebrow as she roughly tugged a piece of tough meat with her teeth. 

For some reason, the man in front of her watched the meat with rapt attention.

"Why?" she asked as she grabbed her ale and took a long drink, savouring the rich, honeyed flavour of the mead that danced on her tongue.

Rhys's dark eyes shifted away from her and back to the corner where Vesemir and the stranger were seated.

"You don't know who that is?" he asked, and Nefeli noticed the way his voice dropped to a hushed tone as if he feared the man might overhear. 

Maybe he did, because the moment Rhys leaned forward, she felt a sensation akin to hot coals being dragged across her skin. 

He was watching her again, and she stubbornly refused to look in his direction.

She also refused to reveal to Rhys that she did know him and that he'd threatened her when she was just a child and had called her a boy.

Nefeli shrugged nonchalantly and adjusted the soft cotton fabric of her shirt, which slipped off her right shoulder. 

Rhys stiffened in front of her, his eyes locked on her exposed shoulder as a warm flush briefly crossed his face before he furrowed his brow.

Nefeli looked at her shoulder and sighed, noticing the bruise from Aaron's hand, which she had missed earlier. 

She was also thinner than she should be, another sign of her demanding training and rigorous schedule. 

Her stubbornness and determination to prove herself were strong motivators, but they came at the cost of her physical well-being.

"Have you been eating?" Rhys inquired, and Nefeli scoffed loudly in response. 

It was an absurd question. She trained relentlessly every day, and every day she was left famished. 

The men overseeing her diet believed that, because she was smaller, she needed less food. She didn't complain; she never complained.

"Rhys..." she began, frustration creeping into her voice, as she reminded him for what felt like the hundredth time that she didn't need his interference and wasn't willing to accept help. She didn't need it. 

But her refusal fell on deaf ears, as Rhys sighed and nodded before discreetly transferring a sizable piece of meat from his metal plate to hers.

"Right," he said quietly before clearing his throat and turning his eyes toward the corner where she could see the outlines of the white-haired man beside the towering Vesemir.