Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [581]
He looked down at her fondly, admiring the form of her face, the slight curl of her black hair. The cut on her cheek was almost invisible now, and she’d already pulled out the stitches. A constant, low burn of pewter gave the body remarkable strength for recovery. She didn’t even favor her right arm anymore—despite the cut shoulder—and her weakness from the fight seemed completely gone.
She still hadn’t given him much of an explanation regarding that night. She had fought Zane—who had apparently been Elend’s half brother—and TenSoon the kandra had left. Yet, neither of those things seemed like they could have caused the distress in her he’d sensed when she’d come to him in his rooms.
He didn’t know if he’d ever get the answers he wanted. Yet, he was coming to realize that he could love her even if he didn’t completely understand her. He bent down and kissed the top of her head.
She immediately tensed, eyes opening. She sat up, exposing a bare torso, then glanced around their small tent. It was dimly lit with the light of dawn. Finally, she shook her head, looking over at him. “You’re a bad influence on me.”
“Oh?” he asked, smiling as he rested on one arm.
Vin nodded, running a hand through her hair. “You’re making me get used to sleeping at night,” she said. “Plus, I don’t sleep in my clothing anymore.”
“If you did, it would make things a little awkward.”
“Yes,” she said, “but what if we get attacked during the night? I’d have to fight them naked.”
“I wouldn’t mind watching that.”
She gave him a flat stare, then reached for a shirt.
“You’re having a bad influence on me, too, you know,” he said as he watched her dress.
She raised an eyebrow.
“You’re making me relax,” he said. “And letting me stop worrying. I’ve been so tied up with things in the city lately that I’d forgotten what it was like to be an impolite recluse. Unfortunately, during our trip, I’ve had time to read not only one, but all three volumes of Troubeld’s Arts of Scholarship.”
Vin snorted, kneeling in the low tent as she pulled her belt tight; then she crawled over to him. “I don’t know how you read while riding,” she said.
“Oh, it’s quite easy—if you aren’t afraid of horses.”
“I’m not afraid of them,” Vin said. “They just don’t like me. They know I can outrun them, and that makes them surly.”
“Oh, is that it?” Elend asked, smiling, pulling her over to straddle him.
She nodded, then leaned down to kiss him. She ended it after a moment, however, moving to stand. She swatted his hand away as he tried to pull her back down.
“After all the trouble I took to get dressed?” she asked. “Besides, I’m hungry.”
He sighed, reclining back as she scampered out of the tent, into the red morning sunlight. He lay for a moment, quietly remarking to himself on his fortune. He still wasn’t sure how their relationship had worked out, or even why it made him so happy, but he was more than willing to enjoy the experience.
Eventually, he looked over at his clothing. He had brought only one of his nice uniforms—along with the riding uniform—and he didn’t want to wear either too often. He didn’t have servants anymore to wash the ash out of his clothing; in fact, despite the tent’s double flap, some ash had managed to work its way inside during the night. Now that they were out of the city, there were no workers to sweep the ash away, and it was getting everywhere.
So, he dressed in an outfit far more simple: a pair of riding trousers, not unlike the pants that Vin often wore, with a buttoning gray shirt and a dark jacket. He’d never been forced to ride long distances before—carriages were generally preferred—but Vin and he were taking the trip relatively slowly. They had no real urgency. Straff’s scouts hadn’t followed them for long, and nobody was expecting them at their destination. They had time to ride leisurely, taking breaks,