Merek was carefully packing away weapons when Isolde entered the room that next day. His back was to her, and she paused in the doorway to watch him.
Isolde had had feelings for Merek for awhile, but she'd managed to stamp them down deep enough to ignore them...for the most part. But since his confession to her in the cave, it was like Isolde had developed different eyes. She found herself perfectly content watching him work, tracking the tensing and relaxing of the muscles in his back, studying the profile of his face, noticing the expert way he handled the weapons. Her heart calmed at the sight, like his mere presence set her at ease.
But then he glanced over his shoulder, his brown eyes hitting hers with the impact of a sprinting horse, and her heart started pumping double time. Her cheeks heated up instantly; she felt like she'd just been caught snooping, which in effect she had been. Her voice was very small when she said, "Hi."
"Hi..." But his eyes didn't crinkle at the corners like they usually did, nor did they leave hers as he waited for her to speak.
She cleared her throat and stepped into the room. This was the weapons room, which was pretty obvious based on the various swords and axes on the walls. Swords of differing sizes lined the wall across from Isolde, and axes and maces crisscrossed the wall behind her. Makeshift punching bags hung from the ceiling to the right and Merek stood at a table filled with weapons to the left. It was in this room that Merek held his training lessons. It was here Isolde had met him.
"Getting ready for the trip?" she asked and then immediately cringed. Of course he was. Clearly he was. What an idiotic thing to ask.
The right corner of his mouth tipped up just the slightest, which made Isolde blush harder. She knew he was making fun of her. But he just said, "Mhm."
She came further into the room, stopping at the edge of his table. "Do you...need any help?"
"Shouldn't you be gathering your supplies too?"
Great point, Merek, yes, she should. Isolde fidgeted with the weapon closest to her on the table—a bow that was missing its arrows. "I just...I wanted to talk to you. If you have a second."
"Um..." Merek looked down at the pile of weapons in front of him, and Isolde thought he was going to tell her to leave. He would have a perfectly logical excuse—he was busy after all. They all were. But she really did not want to leave him yet. Then he said, "I suppose I could spare a few seconds."
She was relieved, but a new nervous energy spread through her. She stopped fidgeting with the bow, meeting his eyes, and said, "Janshai is going to come with us."
Merek nodded. "Thea told me."
"Oh." Isolde watched him very closely, but his face gave nothing away. There wasn't even a mischievous gleam in his eyes. She cleared her throat awkwardly again. "I just, um, I thought you should know."
"Thanks. Let him know if he wants to get in any last minute training, my door is open."
Isolde's brows rose in surprise. "Oh, I...Thank you. Yeah, I'll let him know."
He gave her a quick smile and turned back to the weapons.
The healer blinked several times as she watched him. Merek was pretending she was no longer standing there and Isolde felt her stomach sink. That feeling was probably the reason she didn't turn around and walk away like she should have and instead said, "Merek, can we talk?"
"I thought we just did." He didn't even glance at her. He held up two different crossbows, examining them as if they were a very complicated mathematical equation instead of nearly identical weapons.
