Butterfly Swords by Jeannie Lin

you thinking?’
    The sun overhead cast his face in shadow, hiding his expression, but she could see how his jaw set into a hard line as he stood over her.
    ‘You were still sleeping. The old boatman asked for my help.’ Her explanation sounded weak to her own ears.
    ‘You can’t be so careless.’
    Heat rose up the back of her neck. He had no right to reprimand her. ‘I didn’t see any danger.’
    ‘You asked for my protection.’ He stabbed the pole into the water again. ‘As if I need someone else to look after.’
    They fell silent after that. The buzz of the dragonflies droned in the emptiness while she listened to the lap of the river against the wooden hull. The boat caught the current and sliced through the water. She said nothing while Ryam lowered himself to sitting position, casting the pole aside in agitation. It landed with a thud.
    He stared into the river, too angry to look at her. ‘Not everyone lives by the same code of honour you do.’
    Tension knotted his shoulders. Still she said nothing. Anger upon anger would not resolve anything. It was then that she noticed the scrapes over his knuckles. A bruise ran along his cheek and his blond hair was tossed haplessly. The sun caught the golden threads in it.
    ‘You were truly concerned for me,’ she murmured.
    She had never seen him show any fear at all, yet he had been afraid for her. He had rushed into danger without a thought for himself. Perhaps it was not only for honour—she didn’t dare to hope. Could he actually care for her as something more than a burden?
    ‘That head wound you suffered nearly killed you, didn’t it?’
    He shifted his gaze away from her, but there was nowhere to hide. They were in the middle of open water, the current carrying them fast downstream as the river widened. She inched closer and touched her fingertips to the back of his hand. ‘What happened?’
    Finally he met her eyes. His look sent an odd heat through her.
    ‘I don’t remember anything after I was struck,’ he muttered.
    ‘You’re fortunate to be alive.’
    ‘The men under my command were not so fortunate.’
    Boldly, she took hold of his hands. They were so much larger than hers. Broad and scored by a field of scars. Marks of living by the sword. He dropped his hands against his knees, his back stiff and straight as he regarded her.
    He was not so very different from Father or her brothers, though he had journeyed from his faraway land across the silk roads. Grandfather had travelled the same desert routes before his service to the August Emperor. Her family still guarded the border near the western frontier.
    ‘I come from a line of swordsmen,’ she said. ‘From soldiers and generals. I know what happens when a warrior loses a battle for the first time.’
    ‘This wasn’t a battle, Ailey. It was a senseless brawl. And stop looking at me like that.’
    She frowned, confused. ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘I don’t need you to understand. I need—I just need to get you home.’
    His eyes deepened to a clouded grey as they reflected the churn of the river. For a moment she could barely breathe, enthralled by his nearness and the sway of the boat beneath them.
    She struggled to find the right words. ‘When a man learns that he is not invincible for the first time, it shakes the ground on which he stands.’
    ‘How many battles have you fought?’ he asked with a snort.
    ‘This is something my father tells me.’
    ‘Well, I’ve lost plenty of fights in my lifetime.’
    ‘None that truly mattered until this one.’
    He laughed at that, as if she were joking. Maybe it was absurd, giving advice to a seasoned warrior when her experience extended no further than the practice yard.
    ‘You cannot doubt yourself because of one mistake,’ she went on stubbornly. ‘I would trust you to the ends of the earth.’
    His laughter died and he let out a sigh that seemed to shake his entire being. He reached up and brushed his thumb over the corner of