My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 35

Sera

I didn't feel the laces tightening across my ribs, even though Mina was pulling them hard enough to make me wince. My body was on autopilot—arms lifting when she nudged them, chin tilting when she needed to reach a fastener. My mind was stuck in the dirt of the training yard, picturing a seven-year-old boy with hands covered in blood that wasn’t his.

Mina was rambling. Something about Yvara’s mood, something about the cold. I didn't hear a word of it. I was just looking at my own hands, palms up, wondering how much blood they could hold before I broke.

"Are you even in there?" Mina asked, pausing with her hands on my waist.

"I’m fine," I said. The lie felt thin, like old parchment.

Mina didn't push. She’d learned by now that I wasn't going to open up just because she asked. She finished the last of the ties and stepped back, looking me over. "You look presentable. Go eat. Real food this time, Sera. You’re going to need the energy."

She left, the door clicking shut behind her. I turned to the mirror. I looked like a disaster. There were dark, heavy circles under my eyes that made me look ten years older. My arms were a map of yellowing bruises and fresh red scratches. I didn't look like a princess anymore. I looked like someone who had been dragged through a hedge and left for dead.

I didn't linger. I went to the breakfast room.

It was the same small, stone-walled space as yesterday. Private. Warm. The smell of fried meat and heavy bread filled the air. Fenris was already there, his large frame hunched over a plate. He looked up when I walked in, his grey eyes sweeping over me once before he gave a short, sharp nod toward the chair across from him.

I sat. I picked up a fork and shoved some eggs into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed, but it could have been sawdust for all I tasted. I couldn't stop watching his hands. The thick scars across his knuckles, the way his fingers wrapped entirely around a heavy mug. I kept trying to see the little boy he’d been. I tried to imagine those giant hands as small, shaking things, soaked in red. It was hard to reconcile the man who looked like he could crush a skull with the boy who had watched his friend die.

The silence stretched out. It wasn't the heavy, angry silence of the morning before. It was just quiet. The fire popped. Somewhere outside the mountain, someone was shouting an order, the sound muffled by the thick stone walls.

"The food is alright?" Fenris asked.

I looked down at my plate. It was good. But I wasn’t paying attention to it.

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