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The mere mention of that night in the war camp had her thighs clenching together. She knew better than this by now. She knew he wasn’t to be trusted. But her body was a traitor, just like him. Already she was leaning into his touch. Already she imagined the feel of him inside her, filling her and stretching her until everything else fell away.

Hawthorne’s gaze darkened, as though he could see straight through her, as though he was picturing the very same thing. Manacles clanking, his hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips, drawing her even closer. The press of hard muscle against her was thrilling, need dampening her undergarments, blurring her senses.

His lips brushed the line of her jaw.

‘I…’ The words caught in her throat.

Hawthorne stilled at the first sign of her hesitation, his chest rising and falling. ‘I didn’t have a choice,’ he said, voice hoarse.

Thea stepped back. ‘Choice? You want to talk to me about not having a choice?’ It was as though an icy bucket of reality had been tipped over her head and she scrambled to put more distance between them, horrified at what she’d almost done.

‘I can’t believe I almost fell for it, for you. Again. Your lies are poison.’

Hawthorne’s hand drifted to where the arrow scar marred his skin beneath his shirt, his face falling before he seemed to gather himself, swinging his cloak around his shoulders and fastening it at his collarbone.

‘To Vios it is, then.’ He picked up one of the still-burning torches and started down the tunnel.

They had been walking in silence for over an hour. The only sounds were the dripping of the cave walls, the rattling of Hawthorne’s chains and the crunch of stone beneath their boots. It was still cold enough for Thea’s breath to mist before her face, but her clothes were dry and she wasn’t shivering.

Thanks to him, she thought bitterly.

But with only her anger and resentment for company, the hours stretched on infinitely, and after a time, Thea glanced across at her surly prisoner.

‘Let’s pick up the pace. I want to get to Vios before this fucking eclipse.’

To her surprise, Hawthorne gave a dark laugh at that. ‘We wouldn’t want to miss the festivities, would we?’

Thea scoffed. ‘Festivities? It’s hardly a celebration. More like a final prayer for the Furies to swoop in and save us all.’

‘Because the gods are always so benevolent.’ Hawthorne examined the torch he was holding, no doubt noticing the flames dimming. ‘You didn’t think the midrealms would miss this opportunity, did you? EvenIknow there is to be a ball in King Artos’ honour.’

Thea frowned. ‘What?’

‘A thank you gift, from the people of the midrealms, or at least their tax coin, for the way he has taken Tver under his wing – providing resources and housing, helping to rebuild at his kingdom’s own expense…’

‘That’s…’

‘Very generous, yes.’ Though the way Hawthorne said it between gritted teeth made it clear he was far from impressed.

‘You’ve never liked him – Artos, I mean.’

‘Can’t say I have. Are you forgetting that he tried to use his empath abilities on you at his last grand affair?’

‘No.’

‘Glad to hear it. At least you’ve got your wits about you in that respect.’

Thea’s cheeks burned at the jab. ‘How much longer?’ she asked.

‘Not far now.’

‘How descriptive.’

‘You always used to appreciate my cryptic nature,’ he replied, but his tone was heavy with resignation. After a moment, he sighed. ‘You don’t believe what I told you last night, do you?’

‘It’s hard to believe the word of a traitor.’

He recoiled at that. ‘Where is she?’ he demanded. ‘The Thea I knew would have questions.’