Page 25

JAX

I don’t return to the Shield House until late, when the sky sparkles with the first stars of the evening, and the sun is a distant memory. I expect that Molly and Lola have gone to bed, but I’m hopeful I can forage for some fruit or a few scraps left in the kitchen. After a long day in the forge, shooting with the soldiers and riding with the recruits has left me exhausted. My bow and quiver feel heavy where they crisscross my chest, and I practically lumber up the steps to the Shield House.

I don’t care. My heart feels lighter for the first time in days .

But then I step inside and find Prince Rhen.

He’s sitting with Master Garson at one of the tables, and they fall silent when I enter. Two guards stand along the wall at their backs.

They’re waiting for me. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

A million thoughts flash through my brain at once, and I’m frozen in place. I called that soldier an asshole, but I didn’t think he heard me. Did he complain? I remember yelling at Sephran, too, how Master Garson looked over. Did the other blacksmiths say something about me? Surely none of this would be enough to involve the prince . But maybe it is. Am I going to lose my position?

Or . . . ?will it be something worse? A sudden chill grips my spine, and my fingers go slick on my crutches. I know what kinds of things Prince Rhen is capable of. People used to talk about the vicious queen in Syhl Shallow, but I’ve heard enough stories to doubt that things are any better here.

I know Tycho trusts this man. Maybe that should matter, but it doesn’t . Too many years of living with my father’s cruelty have hardened me, because I can’t seem to look at Rhen without thinking of what he’s done.

Even now, I can’t. The image of Tycho’s scars flickers in my thoughts, and a quick knife of fury slices through me.

Prince Rhen evaluates me, then speaks slowly in Syssalah. “I do not think anyone has ever looked at me with quite this combination of anger and fear.”

Warmth crawls up my throat, and I glance away. I wish I could strip the emotion from my face, but it’s clear that I can’t.

I still haven’t moved from the doorway. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

“I wasn’t looking for an apology. But perhaps . . . ?an explanation.”

Master Garson looks at him and says something, but Prince Rhen’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Garson wants to know if he should give us some privacy. Or would you rather he stay?”

I have no idea how to answer that. Every muscle in my body is so tight. My gaze flicks to the guards along the wall and then back to the men sitting at the table.

Prince Rhen watches this, and his one eye narrows. “Exactly why do you think I’m here?”

I dig my thumbnails into the crossbars of my crutches and wish I could disappear through the wall. “I don’t know.”

“I told Tycho I would ensure you faced few hardships while he was gone.”

Like everything else, he says the words slowly, and they’re so completely contrary to what I was expecting that I’m almost certain he’s using the wrong ones.

Prince Rhen speaks into my silence. “So I am here to keep that promise.”

“I . . . ?oh.” I’m still not sure what to say. “Thank you. I . . . ?I have no hardships.”

Prince Rhen looks at Master Garson and says something quietly. He must ask him to excuse us, because the other man rises and steps away from the table. He gives me a nod and a kind smile.

The prince gestures to the chair he just abandoned. “Do you care to sit?”

No. I absolutely do not.

But he’s the ruler here, and I doubt that was a real question. I swing my crutches forward. The path across the dining room feels twenty miles long, and it’s so quiet I can hear my breathing. Each clop of my crutches on the stone floor is uncomfortably loud.

By the time I sit, Master Garson returns, and to my surprise, he’s brought me a small platter of food, along with a cup of chilled mead from the kitchen. The platter is full of sliced nut bread and squares of cheese and a few strips of beef, along with berries in a bowl. It’s as startling as everything else since I walked in the door. I glance between him and the food, wondering if he’s going to sit back down, but he moves away again.

I realize he’s leaving us, possibly for good this time. “Thank you,” I say in Emberish.

He pauses at the door and smiles. “You’re welcome.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m alone with the prince. The first words he said to me are still echoing in my thoughts.

I do not think anyone has ever looked at me with quite this combination of anger and fear.

It makes me never want to look at him again.

“Eat,” says Rhen. “You must be hungry.”

I am.

But I don’t.

A moment passes between us. I can still hear my own breathing. I swear I can hear his guards breathing.

When Rhen speaks again, his voice is quiet. “Does Garson treat you poorly?”

That makes me look up. “What? No. He speaks no Syssalah, but he’s not unkind.”

I say the words in a rush, and I can see in his face that I’ve spoken too fast, but he doesn’t ask me to repeat it.

“He tells me that you skip the midday meal,” Rhen says. “I wondered if there was a reason.”

“The forge is very busy.” And until Sephran found me a bench, I was very slow, but I don’t add that. “I don’t want to fall behind.”

“There will never be a shortage of work,” Rhen says. “Eat when you’re meant to eat.” He hesitates, then nudges the platter a bit closer to me. “I don’t like seeing my people hungry.”

There’s no emphasis in his voice, but the way he says that is curious. I can’t tell which part tugs at my interest the most, whether it’s the way he says my people when pushing the food toward me , or if it’s the fact that he thinks about his people being hungry at all.

Whatever it is, it’s hard to reconcile with what I know he’s done.

He’s told me to eat twice now, so I take one of the berries. It explodes with sweetness in a way that’s jarring when I’m feeling so bitter. I wait for him to press with more questions, but he doesn’t, and tension clings to my back. If he’s waiting for me to make conversation, he’s going to wait an eternity. I take a piece of cheese.

Prince Rhen eventually says, “Garson told me there seemed to be an argument. With one of the soldiers.”

He must mean what happened with Sephran this afternoon. I shake my head. “That . . . ?that was a misunderstanding.”

“Would you tell me otherwise?”

I think of the soldiers who poke at the horses and knock my tools in the dirt. Would I tell the prince that half his soldiers are arrogant bastards who deserve a good fist to the gut? Would he care?

Would I want him to care?

No.

I keep my gaze on the food, rolling an almond between my fingers, and I have no idea how to answer.

My chest is so tight. I wish Tycho were here.

“Look at me.”

My eyes flick up.

Prince Rhen looks back at me, and I can feel him trying to pick me apart. I have to be careful here, because the prince is a lot more savvy than a stupid soldier sweating in the heat beside the forge. He saw every emotion the instant I walked in the room, so he can probably read every emotion now : my resentment, my frustration, my contempt. My anxiety that I’m going to say or do the wrong thing, and it will reflect poorly on Tycho—and lead to a bad end for me.

“You haven’t liked me since the moment we met,” Rhen says.

The almond goes still between my fingers. My chest is caught in a vise grip, and my mouth goes dry.

His gaze has grown more coolly assessing. “For a while I thought it might be born of loyalty to Syhl Shallow, some . . .” He looks up, searching for a word. “Some prejudice about working in a kingdom that was once an enemy to your own. But it’s not, is it?”

I should say yes . I should lay claim to these ideas. It would make sense, and give root to all of this emotion.

But it wouldn’t be true, and I don’t think he’d fall for it.

“No,” I say.

“This is personal.”

“Yes.”

As soon as I say the word, as soon as I acknowledge it, the hostility in the air seems to flicker more openly. More honestly.

For a fraction of a second, I think I’ve unraveled everything, and he’ll order me to leave. Worse, I’ll be spending the night in chains.

To my surprise, Rhen looks genuinely intrigued. “Why?” he says quietly. “To my knowledge, I have never done anything to you.”

“No, Your Highness,” I say roughly. “You haven’t done anything to me .”

The instant the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back. Because he hears the emotion behind them. I watch them land. I see the impact.

My shoulders are tight, but the words have been spoken, and righteous fury swells in my belly. It takes everything I have not to unleash every thought in my head.

I don’t like seeing my people hungry . I hate that he said it, like he cares about someone’s comfort. It makes me want to throw the food at him. No, it makes me want to point an arrow at him. I want to know how he can claim to care about someone’s hunger while being the same man who chained a young Tycho to a wall. I want to know how he can think about someone’s hardships , while being the same man who ordered his guards to find some whips—-

“ Hold. ”

Rhen’s voice is very quiet, and I blink. He said the word in Emberish, and I realize one of his guards has stepped away from the wall. One of my hands is on my bow, and I didn’t even realize it.

I’m breathing hard. I drop the bow on the floor, where it clatters. I have to look away. Now I really will end up in chains.

But Prince Rhen says, “I’m going to leave, Jax. Before this conversation ends in a way we’ll both regret.”

I can’t answer. I’m biting the inside of my cheek, and I taste blood.

He stands. “I will keep my promise to Tycho. If you need anything, send word.”

I force a nod.

He finally moves away. I can draw a full breath for the first time in a while. I lock my eyes on the edge of the table so I’m not tempted to shoot him again.

Prince Rhen stops by the doorway. His voice is very quiet. “This may not make a difference to you, but I hate myself for it.”

I think of Tycho’s strong hands, his quiet voice, his kind spirit. I think of the way he stood in the woods and gently folded my fingers around an arrow, encouraging me as I learned how to shoot—and then later, the way he dragged my father off me before the man could kill me. I think of the way his thumb brushed tears off my cheeks and how he told me of everything that had been done to him when he was a child. I think of his trust, so honest and pure. His loyalty.

How it must be a curse, because that’s what Prince Rhen so thoughtlessly chained to a wall to torture.

“Good.” My voice is tight and hard and vicious. “I hate you, too.”

Prince Rhen goes still, drawing himself up, and I brace myself.

But then he seems to deflate. He gives me a nod. “Noted.”

Then he’s gone, and I collapse into the chair and put my face in my hands.