Page 24 of A Taste For Lies (The Apex Kingdom #1)

Chapter 24

ALORA

H oly goddess.

Maeve needn’t have worried about our standing out near the practice yard. A gaggle of Elite ladies and lords have already clustered at the edge of the gardens to ogle the guardians, Lady Winters and her cronies among them.

I can’t say that I blame them.

My mouth goes dry at the sight of the Apex prince, tanned chest on display in the fall sunlight. He’s locked in a battle with Carter, also shirtless, his umber skin glistening with sweat. Strong biceps swing heavy swords, muscles rippling as they trade good-natured insults back and forth. Naked hunger flickers across Victoria’s face as she watches, and I fear my own expression is not much better.

I’m not one to be turned by a pretty face. Not anymore. Not since I gave my heart too easily in Shanterra, desperate to fit in, only to overhear the bastard bragging about stealing “the foreign whore’s virginity” to his posse of friends. I wish I’d had the courage to confront him, but instead, I hid, heartbroken and ashamed, until Eleni found me.

It took me over two years to sleep with someone else after that. By then, my shame had morphed into cold acceptance. Men are good enough for a diverting night—an outlet , as Taran called it—but that’s as far as I’m willing to go.

The prince lifts one bare, tree-trunk-sized arm for a sharp downswing of his sword. I swallow hard, remembering the feeling of those strong muscles wrapped around my body after I came to in the grove. The tension that rippled through them when I told him to set me down. He keeps getting under my skin in a way I thought I’d long since guarded myself against.

I drag my focus from the forbidden display and search the yard for a tiny, ebony-haired Apex. She appears to be working on conditioning with Astrid—their height difference a comical study in contrasts.

I stride confidently towards the females, ignoring the gasps from the gathered Elite at my back. Out of my peripheral vision, I catch Taran freeze mid-motion, Carter barely pulling his swing in time.

“Mei!” I call out in an irritated tone. Her mouth drops open at the sight of me moving across the training yard, and she stands there, paralyzed. Astrid pushes her forward, and she nearly falls to the ground, Jinai save me. The spy recovers just in time, hurrying forward to intercept me while Astrid strolls lazily behind her.

“My Lady?” she gasps, out of breath.

“I need you to instruct my…seamstress to bring me my gown for the queen’s ball tomorrow night. She can bring it to my room at the palace, and I’ll pay her upon receipt.”

“Now, My Lady?”

I fix an annoyed look on my face. “Yes, right now.” I gesture dismissively, like the queen. “What are you waiting for?”

Mei bows. “Of course.” She rises, then bows again. “Right away, My Lady.” One last bow, and she rushes off.

Astrid watches her go, the same enigmatic expression on her face. “Her obvious lack of training is going to be a problem,” she mutters.

I nod slightly, the barest movement of my head to indicate I’ve heard her and will deal with it. Then I spin on my heel to head back to the gardens and come face to face with a heaving chest of bronzed muscle .

“Mind telling me what you’re doing here, My Lady?” the prince asks with barely concealed annoyance. A droplet of perspiration drips down his broad chest to one tight, hard nipple. I’m momentarily at a loss for words.

“Up here,” he drawls, and my eyes snap up to meet blazing silver.

Rule Number Ten: Maintain fucking control.

I lift my chin, emulating Maeve’s haughty aura. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I had an errand for my Apex.”

Far from being dissuaded, the corner of Taran’s mouth twitches with amusement at my playacting. “It’s not safe for you here. Some of the Apex are new and still learning to control their gifts.”

My attention shifts to the assembled Apex, curiosity flaring. I catch Ethan, the young guard from the aqueduct entrance, launching arrows at a target more than two hundred and fifty yards away. He hits the bullseye every time.

“Far-sight,” Taran says in answer to my unspoken question. “He can see that target as though it was right in front of his face.”

“He looks young to be in the guard.”

I feel the weight of the prince’s gaze on me. “He’s sixteen. We emerge during puberty. Though I happen to know the boy writes letters home every week. Are you planning on taking in another stray?”

I finally turn my gaze back to the prince, suppressing the urge to cross my arms over my chest. “What do you mean another one?”

“Your tiny guardian. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how protective you’ve been over her.” He cocks his head. “It’s unusual for an Elite. To say the least.”

Warning heard and received. “Were you all that young when you emerged?”

“Carter was the same age, sixteen, when he came to live here in the palace.”

My stomach twists uncomfortably. “Carter was just…forced to leave his home? His family?” The tragic past seems so incongruent with the cheerful guardian.

Taran steps closer, the musk of his exertion mixed with rain-soaked pine washing over me. “Yes. I have tried to be a brother to him in their stead, but emergence leaves its mark upon us all. ”

Curiosity nips at me again. “How old were you?”

“Nearly a year older than Carter. He’d already been brought to the palace to serve as my guardian when I emerged.” A self-deprecating laugh. “Not sure whether I would have warranted one otherwise.”

We stare at each other for a moment and I’m not sure what to say.

“You two are causing a bit of a scene.” I whip around at Carter’s low voice behind me and am caught off guard by a black tattoo of Faunera’s tail-and-horns sigil on his right pectoral, exactly where it would be on his uniform, marking him as Apex. I suck in a sharp breath.

Carter’s brow furrows, and then he follows where my attention has gone. His tawny eyes glow liquid gold in the sunlight.

“Is that…” I breathe.

“It’s just a tattoo, Wildcat,” he answers quietly. “Every Apex bears this mark.” So they can never hide from their fate.

I drag my gaze from his bare chest to Taran’s. No tattoo—at least not where I can see, and there’s a lot of naked flesh on display. I swallow and raise my eyes to meet the prince’s. “I need to talk to you.”

His eyes flick to the distant Elite voyeurs. “Can it wait?”

“Of course. I came here to talk to Mei. You accosted me .” I step back, sliding my condescending Elite mask back on.

“That’s uncanny,” he mumbles. His eyes narrow. “I don’t like it.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to act more ladylike.” I drop into a mocking curtsy. “Your Highness.”

He erases the distance between us with a single step. A heartbeat before I realize what he’s about to do, the prince’s large hand clasps mine, slowly drawing it to his mouth. His soft lips dust over my knuckles. “My Lady,” he murmurs, his silver gaze fixed on mine. I can’t hide my slight tremble, and I know his Apex senses mean he doesn’t miss it.

“Not helping,” Carter points out.

Swallowing, I snatch my hand back and whirl towards the waiting Elite. Head held high, I swan back through the staring Apex, straight to the gardens .

Maeve is waiting for me with a rictus smile pasted on her face. She has to be ready to murder me. “What happened?”

I exhale a long sigh, keenly aware that every Elite within earshot is holding their breath so as not to miss my response. “My Apex’s knowledge of poisons may be second to none, but she would forget her head if it wasn’t attached to her body. She’s loath to miss training, but it’s a fitting punishment for not completing her task earlier.”

“And the prince?”

I scoff. “He wanted to know if I would be attending the ball.” I feign a shudder for good measure. “I know he’s your cousin, but I just don’t think I can dance with an Apex, Lady Ashbourne. It’s unnatural.”

“Don’t worry, Lady Thorne,” Victoria simpers, her words laced with icy malice, “a nobody from Nostura has no need to fear a dance invitation from royalty.”

My answering smile is sharp as a blade. “The beast prince is all yours, Lady Winters.”

She steps close enough to share breath, her voice dropping low so that none of the gossiping courtiers can listen in. “Yes,” she hisses. “He is.”