Page 15 of Artemysia

I hate the killing. I don’t know why, but my throat tightens.

I have to do something I hate to make a difference in the world.

There’s no other way. I’ve never confessed it aloud.

Not to Throg, or my father…not to anyone.

It hurts. It hurts that Riev is forced to feel the same way, and perhaps other soldiers too.

I never let myself think about it.

My plan has always been to move forward, climb the ranks, do whatever it takes to survive. It gives me purpose. A way to control my fears. I keep going to quell the anxieties rising when I wake up every morning.

Oh, terrific. The edges of my eyes burn. My first day as captain leading this troop, and emotion threatens to overwhelm me. Get it together, Delphine .

Emotion is not a weakness.

But I need to stay focused, so I compartmentalize my feelings and stop thinking about the gravity of what I do. Kill to live.

There’s no way that Riev would understand how I feel. I’ve scrubbed any expression off my face, and he doesn’t turn back at me anyway.

Nevertheless, something shifts in the air between us.

He slows until I’m riding alongside him, withers to withers, but his gaze stays focused straight ahead. He switches his reins to one hand, and fumbles in his pack with the other.

When he shoves out his arm toward me, he’s offering me a piece of jerky.

I take it from him and clutch it tightly in my palm, but have no clue what to make of his peace offering.

He hesitates, reaches out his hand again, and…carefully places it over mine .

What is happening? I’m still gripping the jerky in that hand.

I watch this all unfold, incredulous.

Is he actually trying to make me feel better? Or is he making fun of me?

I stare down in disbelief at the well-groomed fingertips extending out of his half-gloves as he curls his hand over the back of my palm. When I don’t flinch away from his touch, his thumb idly strokes the back of my bare knuckles, and a warm tingle surges up my arm. Dear gods.

I don’t want him to stop, and I wonder why his touch has such a powerful effect on me. Was it the boldness of such an affectionate gesture in front of everyone? Or is it that he sensed I needed the empathy?

Has he dropped the antagonistic jerk act for a moment to be nice?

“Delphine, the poisonous flower, right? ‘It is with flowers as with moral qualities; the bright are sometimes poisonous; but I believe, never the sweet.’” The richness of his voice resonates through me, deep and sensual.

I’m taken aback. An Augustus Hare quote. One of my favorites.

My throat is still tight as I blink at him in bewilderment. His eyes bore through me, and I don’t know what he sees in me that erases all the lines from his face. “I read it in one of your books in the clock tower, and I haven’t stopped thinking of you since, Elphie.”

Elphie.

My childhood name.

And that quote.

Oh hell, he found my favorite book of poems as a child. With the best lines circled. Elphie written inside the cover in what was my best calligraphy at the time.

I gulp down my surprise and embarrassment more than anything else, and my words slip out before I can stop myself. “Don’t call me Elphie.”

I snap my hand away from under his despite very much liking the trickle of warmth trailing his touch .

It’s not right to encourage this. I shouldn’t enjoy it.

I’m as confused as I am mortified.

At first, I thought he was taunting me for my vulnerable confession, but he also said he hasn’t stopped thinking of me. I can’t allow his charm to soften my heart, even though for a brief beat, it does. He must be toying with me. What is he playing at?

When I attempt to analyze the situation, suspicion laces my thoughts.

Is he manipulating my feelings, flirting to get the upper hand so I’ll defer to his decisions? Or is he trying to make me feel better in a genuine moment of honesty?

I have yet to figure out his ambitions and motivations.

Can I trust an assassin’s show of sentiment?

King Galke said never to trust him.

From behind me, Ivy’s shrill whistle cuts through the air. “Riev, stop trying to seduce Captain Fancy Bird, you depraved bastard. She’s too good for you.”

Her rough laugh is joined by Throg’s hearty one, and with a squeeze of my calves, I spur my elk into a trot, leaving Riev behind so I can’t see his reaction.

I’m far enough ahead now that no one can see the fiery red of my cheeks.

At least Ivy referred to me as Captain , even if it was followed by a bit of scorn and a whole lot of ridicule.

“Quicken your pace, the three of you. We’ve got ten leagues to cover today,” I bark out. “We ride until midday, when we’ll stop to water the elk.”

For good measure, I add, “Until then—stay vigilant. No talking, more riding. Unless you want to come up here to discuss strategy with me.” My voice comes out much rougher than planned, but because Throg obeys my command, Ivy falls in line.

Moody Riev has no one beside him and is apparently not in the right state of mind to test me anymore, so he rides along silently, too.

With my team temporarily set straight, I chomp on the jerky that I’m still holding in my crushing grip.

It’s boar, and it’s delicious.

I take my wins where I can.