Page 41

CALLYN

The next morning, I’m supposed to join Alek to visit the First House, headed by a man who provides precious metals to most of the wealthy people in Syhl Shallow. I should be excited to meet another potential ally to the queen, but instead, I’m full of doubts over whether I made the right choices in what I said to Tycho—and what I said to Nolla Verin. The queen said nothing about it, so I know Verin didn’t make good on her threat to talk to her.

But still.

Alek, of course, notices my mood the instant he gets into the carriage.

“You look contemplative, Lady Callyn.”

The driver cracks a whip, and the carriage starts rattling. Alek is in a dashing red jacket today, and I almost have to do a double take at how striking he looks. It should clash with the flame coloring of his hair, but it doesn’t. I keep my eyes on the window, but I don’t beat around the bush. “I told Verin I don’t want to train with her anymore.”

“What prompted this?”

You.

But I don’t say that. It wasn’t entirely him. It was the queen. It was my mother. It was my conversation with Tycho. It was my life in Briarlock.

It was me.

I smooth my skirts over my legs, but I stare out at the new scenery as we pass over the cobblestones of the Crystal City. “She was sparring with a soldier from Emberfall, so I ended up talking to Lord Tycho, and he offered to spar with me instead.”

“Tycho!” He practically snarls the name. “If you get an opportunity, run him straight through.”

“He’s been very kind. To me and my sister.” I hesitate. “And to Jax.”

“Oh, he’s been kind to Jax? Is that what we’re calling it?”

My cheeks flush.

Alek’s voice turns contemplative. “Did he say anything of interest?”

“No. He’s very good at keeping secrets.” I remember the way Tycho said the king wasn’t speaking to him very much, and I wonder if I should share that. Our conversation felt so personal, so private, and he was very kind.

I can be good at keeping secrets, too.

“How did Verin take it?” Alek finally says.

“She wasn’t exactly in high spirits. She said I was powerless.” I sigh. “I know you hate Tycho, but at least he wasn’t trying to break me into pieces. I’m sure you think I should have kept training with her .”

“No,” he says, and his voice is oddly quiet. “Actually I was thinking that it was rather brave of you to face Nolla Verin in that way—especially in front of Lord Tycho.”

“It wasn’t brave ,” I choke out.

“She’s the queen’s sister. It absolutely was .”

“The king told me that if I wanted to prove her wrong, I should keep showing up. Now she’s probably telling anyone who will listen that I’m a complete failure who doesn’t deserve a position in the palace.” The instant I say it, I flinch a little inside. Because I didn’t consider what Verin might say to my little sister when she shows up for training.

But Alek scoffs. “You think she’s going to tell anyone that you refused to train with her? Her pride would never allow it.”

I stare at him. “Really?”

His eyes flash. “ Absolutely. ”

I roll that around in my head for a while, because I’m not sure what to do with it. I keep thinking of that moment I stood in front of Verin, when I realized that maybe all my expectations were ones I’d created for myself.

While I’m musing, a loud crack emits from underneath the carriage, followed by a sudden tilt and sway—and then another, more jarring one. Outside, the carriage driver is shouting, “ Whoa! ” at the horses, and we rattle to a stop. The carriage is leaning crookedly, and it’s almost enough to make me fall off the bench.

My eyes snap to Alek’s in alarm, but he just sighs. “It sounds like a broken axle.”

A footman tugs at the door, but it seems to be stuck. Alek gives it a shove from the inside, and we climb out.

We’re a fair distance outside the main part of the city, and the sun is shining down. The road is lined on both sides with trees, and the mountains backing the Crystal City seem distant, like we’re miles away. I don’t see any travelers coming or going. When I look at the carriage, I discover that the axle is indeed broken, with a large crack in the wheel, too. Alek’s footman and driver look at each other dubiously, then at him.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” says the driver. “The past rain has left the road a bit rutted.”

Alek sighs again, then runs a hand across his jaw. He looks from me, to them, to the two horses, considering.

“We could walk,” I offer.

Alek shakes his head. “We’re on the road to Spitnare. It’s almost six miles of nothing in either direction—and I’m not risking thieves.” He looks to his men. “Take the horses and ride back to the city. Filcher, hire a new carriage. Adim, find someone who can repair the axle.”

Filcher and Adim begin unhitching the horses, but I look at Alek. “And what will we be doing?”

He’s unstrapping a trunk affixed to the back of the carriage, and his movements are sharp, annoyed.

“Waiting,” he says.

If there’s anything good about Alek’s House providing textiles, it’s that the trunk held several bolts of cloth. Alek spreads two of them along the grass, giving us a space to sit in the sunlight.

To my surprise, I realize this is the first time I’ve been completely alone with him since the night we spent together in Briarlock. No servants, no guards, nothing.

I still remember waking in bed, finding him sitting by the window, reading one of my mother’s old saucy romance novels. When he first showed up, it was the dead of night. I pulled one of my mother’s old swords out from under the bed to confront him. He knocked it out of my hands in seconds .

A sword isn’t a weapon of warning , he said. If you aren’t willing to use it, you may as well put it down.

I guess that’s exactly what I did.

We’ve been silent since we sat down, but it’s giving me too much time to think, too many opportunities for doubts to form. He even left a few feet of space between us, which is somehow surprising. A cool wind blows through the trees, stirring up dust in the road and making Alek swear when dry leaves skitter across our blanket. I turn my head to look at him, and again, I’m struck by all the red. Like a flag of warning.

Though bizarrely, Alek might be the only person who’s been completely earnest about every word he’s said since the very moment I met him.

“I thought you might be disappointed in me,” I say quietly.

“Disappointed! Why?”

“Because you kept challenging me to be a better fighter.”

He scoffs. “No, I was challenging you to stand up to her. Verin only looks for solutions at the end of a sword. You’re a bit more savvy.”

It’s my turn to scoff. “I’m not savvy.”

He laughs. “Is this the same girl who faced me with a pitchfork in her barn? The same girl who drew a knife? The same girl who grabbed her mother’s sword—”

I grimace. “All of these arguments are making me sound like the violent one.”

He looks at me, and his laughter settles into a thoughtful smile. “The same girl who still doesn’t quite trust me?”

That makes me flush—because he’s not wrong about that. “I don’t think I trust anyone, Alek.”

“Like I said.” He reaches out to brush a tendril of hair from my eyes, but his hand doesn’t linger. “Savvy.”

The blush on my cheeks refuses to fade.

He studies me, his gaze turning a little more assessing. “And I’m glad to have you by my side for these visits. I still haven’t been able to determine who was willing to risk the queen to get at the king.” He pauses, then shrugs. “Or maybe it doesn’t matter now, if Lia Mara is willing to hear us.”

Despite the shrug, he’s frowning, and I can tell that this bothers him. “You’re worried.”

He hesitates, and I realize that he’s savvy, too. We both keep delicately dancing around how much we trust each other. But then he nods. “I am. I feel as though I was used before. I don’t want to be used again.”

This is striking. I hadn’t considered that from his perspective—and maybe it’s because I always assumed he was lying about so much of it.

But if he’s been telling the truth all along, then he was betrayed, too.

The frown hasn’t left his face. “Lord Tycho tried to point all the blame at me. It’s taken some time to recover my reputation. That’s part of the reason we’ve done so many visits.” He scowls. “I’ve been nothing but loyal, yet I need to prove myself again and again.”

I reach out and put a hand over his. “From what I’ve seen, no one questions your loyalty.”

He snorts. “Some of that is because you are with me. I know the queen is sending you for her own reasons, but I’ll admit that it doesn’t hurt mine.”

I wonder if the queen knows that. I wonder if this is part of it.

“Do you still think someone would try to hurt her ?” I say.

“I don’t know.” He finally looks up from where my hand is resting on his. “But the king’s magic is what makes her a target. Removing him from Syhl Shallow protects us all.”

Is he right? I think the queen would agree with him.

I just don’t know if I agree with him. The king’s magic has done a lot to protect the queen as well. Even in the attack on the palace from the very beginning.

The wind pulls another tendril of hair across my face, and Alek reaches up to push it out of my eyes again. This time, his fingers drift across my cheek, slowly tucking the loose hair behind the shell of my ear.

He hasn’t kissed me since that day we stood and looked at all his weapons. He hasn’t even tried.

Tell me the point at which I needed to seduce you to gain your cooperation.

He didn’t need to. And maybe he’s been spending all this time proving it.

“Did you really think I’d be disappointed?” he says, and his voice is lower. Quieter.

“Yes.”

“Never, Callyn.”

“Not never .”

“Truly never. Never disappointed.” He twists another tendril, and his fingers slip along my jaw. “Proud.”

The word makes me shiver. I can’t remember the last time anyone ever said that to me. I can’t remember the last time anyone but Jax even tried to look out for me.

Despite the breeze, the sunlight is so warm, and Alek is just . . . ?just so vibrant. I don’t know if it’s the dark red of his hair, or the gleaming buttons of his clothes, or the sparkling silver of the thread in his jacket. Or maybe it’s just his eyes, or the sharpness of his jaw, or the slope of his mouth. Maybe it’s just the fact that he might be sitting here like a spoiled nobleman, but I know he could be on his feet in an instant, fighting a battle. I can’t seem to stop looking at him, especially here , sitting on a pile of fabric on the side of the road, the broken carriage sitting crookedly a short distance away. For an instant, I can forget the palace and the political intrigue and the potential for war. I can imagine we’re just outside of Briarlock, that I’m just Callyn again, running a bakery and trying to keep my sister out of trouble.

When his finger brushes against my lower lip, my mouth opens, and his thumb finishes the motion, drifting along my teeth.

And then I don’t have time to inhale, because he’s kissing me.

Every time he does this, it feels like a surprise, like I have no warning. His mouth overwhelms my senses, and I’m inhaling his breath before I even realize it. When his tongue brushes mine, I feel a clenching low in my belly, and my fingers grab hold of his jacket.

His hands take hold of my waist, and then I’m captured in his arms, held against his body. The world spins, and I don’t realize he’s laying me back until I’m just there , pressed into the stretch of fabric. Alek is still kissing me, his hands along my rib cage, his weight pinning me beneath him. When his hips shift, I feel everything , and it draws a gasp from my throat.

Alek smiles against my lips. “Did you doubt I wanted you, Callyn?”

“No, but . . .” I hesitate. “Maybe.”

He sobers, regarding me. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you first pulled that knife.”

That makes me flush. “Sometimes I think about the way you pinned me up against the wall.”

His grin is back, and he kisses me, but it’s slower now. He’s watching me. Gauging, judging, questioning. When his hand slides up my rib cage, he’s slow and cautious, every inch deliberate and purposeful.

So I take hold of his hand and press it right to my breast.

His smile widens, and his hand splays, his fingers slipping just under the edge of my corset. It makes me gasp again, but now he’s more sure. He doesn’t stop there, and when his hand slips fully under my corset, my gasp turns into a low sound.

He’s pressed so tightly against me, but I shift my thigh, and he gives a sharp little inhale. Encouraged, I slide a hand between us, my palm seeking the warm weight between his legs.

When I find it, Alek makes a low sound himself, his eyes falling closed. “Callyn,” he whispers.

“You’re not the only one who can be confident,” I say.

He laughs softly, canting his hips so he presses into my palm, just as his fingers stroke the sensitive bud of my breast. Alek’s other hand finds my knee beneath my skirts, and I didn’t even realize his fingers were seeking my skin. As his hand travels up my thigh, a fire lights in my abdomen, and my thighs shift again, opening for him.

I’m startling myself with my forwardness—but it’s like sparring with Tycho and standing up to Nolla Verin has broken down my walls and given me new perspective. A new sense of control . I want this. I want him . I’ve wanted him since the moment he looked into my eyes and whispered my name.

When his fingers brush over my undergarments, I’m all but panting into his mouth.

“Yes?” he murmurs, his mouth warm against my jaw.

I nod fiercely.

I’m ready for him to be fast and sure, his fingers sliding into me, but he’s achingly slow, pulling fabric aside, drifting along my skin in a way that makes me shudder.

“Please,” I whisper. I see sparks and stars in my vision, and it reminds me of the magic that flares when I need to heal myself. But I ignore them, desperate for his touch.

His hand barely moves, and it’s delicate torture.

“Anyone could come along the road,” he says.

It should be sobering, but it’s not. I look right back into his blue eyes and grab hold of his belt. “Then stop taking so long.”

That seems to light a fire in him , because he slips the buckle and tosses his sword belt to the side. Then he pulls away my underthings, while I’m gasping the whole time. When I take him in my hand, he makes a choked sound, inhaling deeply through his teeth. But his eyes stay open, and he looks down at me. The expression in his eyes reminds me of what he said before he kissed me.

Never disappointed. Proud.

The swell of emotion in my chest nearly brings tears to my eyes. “Please,” I whisper again. “Please.”

And then he’s inside me, so slow, so determined. The air feels charged, my body feels charged, and each thrust makes my breath shudder. He smells like sunlight and summertime, and when he kisses my neck, I’ve never felt so cherished.

At some point he takes hold of my leg, the angle changing, his motions becoming more desperate. His hand strokes my breast, then reaches between us, seeking every delicate spot. It sends me over the edge and I cry out, stars filling my vision until I can’t see anything at all. My entire existence spirals down to the warm feel of him pressing into my body, the slow, dizzying motion of his hand. When he makes a sound, it’s low and guttural and makes my womb give another clench. And then it’s just the weight of him on top of me, the sweet, heady scent of him, the tenderness of him kissing my cheek, my jaw, my throat. I’m ready for sweet nothings, for him to whisper promises against my skin.

Instead, he says, “Fast enough?” and I burst out laughing.

“Next time I’ll keep count,” I say, and he grins down at me.

“ Next time ,” he murmurs, tracing a finger along my jaw, “you won’t be able to keep count.”

I flush. My skin is still so warm, so charged, that when a breeze drifts down the lane and finds my bare legs, it feels like ice, and I shiver. “We should make ourselves presentable.”

Alek casts a glance at the road, which is still empty. “As you say.” He draws back, tugging at my skirts, drawing up one of the bolts of fabric to give me some privacy. It’s thoughtful and kind, and probably the most unexpected action from him. “I can go to the other side of the carriage,” he says. “If you’d like a moment alone.” He pauses. “There might be some food in the footman’s carriage box, too.”

“All right,” I whisper.

He gives me a nod, then kisses the back of my hand, then moves away. My heart gives a clench, and I have to press a hand to my chest, just for a moment. The weight of my pendant is warm against my fingers. I know I need to get up and arrange myself, but I just watch him move.

But as Alek stands, a screech emits from somewhere deep in the trees. Before I can react, a scraver soars out of the forest. I remember Tycho’s warning.

When the air turns cold, get off the fields. It’s the first sign of scravers.

I should have been paying attention.

I watch Alek’s hand immediately go for his sword—which is still lying beside me in the grass.

“No!” I shriek, but it doesn’t matter. The scraver is diving right at me, claws outstretched.

Before it reaches me, Alek leaps in front of the creature. He has no armor, no weapons. The scraver slams right into him, and blood flies.