Page 79 of Blood & Claw

His gaze, which was upon her hands, was shadowed.

Heat rolled over her.

She’d wondered when he would comment on her nails. She shouldn’t be surprised, especially since he’d witnessed her wielding them tonight.

“I did,” she agreed, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel into her voice. “But I like to keep them short.” She swallowed, knowing he wouldn’t leave it there.

He didn’t.

“I saw you use them in that fight … they grow fast, don’t they?”

“I suppose so.”

“They’re unusual,” he went on, his gaze lifting to hers. His tone softened a little then. “They grow into points.”

She started to sweat. “Maybe … if I didn’t keep them trimmed.”

She looked down at the nails of her left hand, which she’d just finished filing. They gleamed palely in the light of the hearth, while those of her right hand were unnervingly long.

She glanced up then, avoiding Dale’s gaze as she looked around the alcove they shared. It was a simply furnished space, yet bigger than their cramped room in Rhu—two sleeping nooks piled high with furs and a flickering hearth. Little else.

Certainly, nothing to lock her attention on so she could ignore his questions.

Ailsa dropped her gaze and started filing the nails of her right hand.

She rasped the file harder. White filings gathered in her lap.

Her nails were shorter now, but still not short enough.

“Ailsa.” Dale’s voice drew her attention once more. The concern in his eyes surprised her. “Don’t worry about killing that shitbag. He had it coming. As did his friends.”

She flashed him a tight smile. “You’re right. I should feel sorrier about slaying the Reedohran … at least they were acting true to their nature.” She paused then, desperate to turn the conversation away from herself. She’d thought their talk over supper would satisfy him, yet it merely seemed to have piqued his curiosity. It was time to start asking him some questions. “How many men have you killed?”

He shrugged, his amber eyes veiling. They looked like they usually did now—it must have been a trick of the firelight earlier. “A few.”

She snorted. “That’s cryptic.”

He shifted his gaze back to the flickering fire. “I’m not one to boast of such things.”

“Do you remember your first?”

He nodded. “I heaved my guts out afterward.”

She inclined her head, intrigued despite herself. “What happened?”

“A border skirmish.”

“Did you fight for the Braewall Guard?”

“Once.” His tone had cooled. A warning not to pry.

She heeded it. She didn’t want him to dig into her business either.

Leaving the fire, Dale heeled off his boots and moved over to his sleeping nook, reclining on the soft nest of furs.

For a short while, they didn’t speak. The only sounds in the room they shared were the gentle crack and pop of the hearth and the abrasive sound of her filing her nails.

Eventually, rising from where she perched on the edge of her own sleeping nook, Ailsa went to the fire and threw on the nail shavings. The flames consumed them in a bright flare of light. She then brushed off her tunic.