Her amusement at his purposeful memory lapse regarding Evaline’s name died a quick death at the question. Jahna had learned early how to position herself to another person when speaking with them so that the unmarked side of her face was what they saw. The head coverings, scarves and hairstyles she wore served the single purpose of obscuring the side disfigured by the purple stain that spread along the right side of her face from her forehead down to her collarbone and over to her ear.
At the moment, she presented her unmarked profile to Sir Velus, but his question forced her to face the inevitable indrawn breath, the flicker of revulsion not shuttered fast enough for her to miss, the involuntary step back, as if the mark she bore might be contagious.
Men were better at controlling their reactions than women, but not by much, and she steeled herself for the swordmaster’s response. It was unavoidable anyway. He would take up residence in her father’s household for four years as her brother’s teacher. Best to get the unpleasantness over with now.
She shifted to face him fully and drew back her hood first. Next, she tucked her hair behind her ear before pushing her scar further down her neck to expose the skin there. “This is why.”
No quick inhale, no leap back, not even the telltale glint in the eye that always gave away the most stoic observer, and best of all, none of the pity that horrified her more than any insult ever could. Either Radimar Velus was an expert at hiding his emotions, or he wasn’t repulsed by the mark that had been her burden since birth. She chose to believe her first assumption because it was impossible for her to believe the second.
He cocked his head to one side. “Ah, kissed by Yalda the Creator.”
Yalda, god of the sun, of spring, of the day. The festival they all gathered for and celebrated now in the depths of winter was in praise of Yalda, whose ascension after the longest night was only a day away. People had called Jahna’s birthmark many things, none of them complimentary. A kiss from Yalda was the first that wasn’t an insult.
She hurried to cover up. Despite the swordmaster’s surprising lack of reaction, she was uncomfortable with being so exposed. “You make it sound nice,” she said once she had adjusted her hood.
A shallow frown line bisected the space between his eyebrows. “There’s no reason to make it sound terrible. It isn’t worthy of so unforgiving a name as Fireface.” His thin lips all but disappeared when he pressed them against his teeth, and the green eyes flashed. “Your mark is why they’re chasing you?”
She nodded. “So they can tell me in no uncertain terms how offensive they find it.”
A low rumble escaped his compressed mouth in an unmistakable growl. “Does it jump off your face and bite them?”
The image his question inspired made her chuckle. “No, but I wish it would sometimes.” Her laughter faded but her grin remained.
How fortunate Sodrin was—how fortunate they all were—to have this man join their household. Ilinfan swordmasters were famous for their skills with the blade, their services as teachers and guards so prohibitively costly only kings and the wealthiest nobles could afford them. But for Jahna, this man’s value lay in the kindness he’d shown her, the sincerity of his engagement with her. She prayed it wasn’t a false show employed to endear him to her father through the affection of his children.
Jahna was only fifteen, but she had already developed a keen sense of a person’s mettle and their motivations, if for nothing else than her own self preservation. Though she didn’t put all her trust into her impressions upon a first meeting, Radimar Velus seemed an admirable man in many respects.
She had no wish to linger on the subject of her disfigurement and grasped for another ready topic. “My brother is eager to begin training with you. You’re all he’s talked about for months now, ever since my father said you were coming from Ilinfan to stay with us. Did you just arrive?”
Radimar nodded. “Last night. I’de taken lodging in the city and planned to meet with your father and brother during the Delyalda festival but managed to secure a room here in the palace. I was leaving there to find Lord Uhlfrida when I spotted you in the hallway.”
She whistled low. “I can’t believe you actually found a place to stay anywhere close to the festivities, much less here in the palace.”
Every inn and stable in the capital was packed to the rafters with visitors who had arrived from all across Belawat to attend the festival. The palace itself, a sprawling structure with countless chambers and corridors, resembled a rabbit warren at the moment with people bedding down in the interior hallways, once-empty storerooms and even the floor of the smithy where the forges offered warmth, if not soft beds, during the bitter nights.
He snorted. “It wasn’t easy, but I managed.”
It must have cost him a small fortune to do so. Uhlfrida still complained about the handsome sum he contributed to the royal coffers for a suite of three rooms crammed tight with people and belongings.
The swordmaster offered his arm to her. “May I escort you to supper, Lady Uhlfrida?”
She was tempted to accept. Only her father or Sodrin had ever escorted her to the royal feasts. Until two years ago, when she reached the age where awareness of the opposite sex and her own lack of attractiveness to them became more obvious, she’d been content to accompany one of them to the great suppers, even if the meal itself was an ordeal she endured with a blank expression and the pretense of not caring that hundreds of stares rested on her as she pushed her food around her plate.
Walking in on Sir Velus’s arm would not only generate the usual stares but also furious whispers and shocked expressions. All those people who either tutted over her unfortunate mark with their false sympathy or openly gawked before turning away with a shudder would conjecture among themselves over how ugly Jahna Uhlfrida managed to lure a man other than her parent or sibling into escorting her to the feast. She smiled at the image such daydreaming conjured.
“Is that a yes, Lady Uhlfrida?” Sir Velus watched her, a half smile of his own curving his lips.
Oh how she wished it were. Jahna sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sir Velus. I must say no. If Evaline sees me on your arm, her retribution will be swift, and I’d like to enjoy a little of Delyalda if I can.”
She didn’t exaggerate. Evaline would make it even more of her mission than she already did to seek out and exact vengeance for some imagined slight Jahna visited on her simply for accompanying Sir Velus into the great hall. Jahna would have to spend the rest of their visit hiding under her bed to avoid what promised to be some creative cruelty dreamed up in Evaline’s twisted mind.
The swordmaster’s piercing gaze sharpened even more, and he lost the smile. “Have you told your father or brother any of this?”
A flutter of panic beat in her chest. “My father is a busy man with more important things to attend to, and my brother knows. He’s come to my defense a few times. It’s a small matter, really.” She pretended not to see the skepticism in his drawn-down brow and narrowed eyes. “Besides, as a new member of our household, you’ll likely be seated with us at supper anyway.”
Another thought occurred to her. “Didn’t you say you had to meet someone?”