Page 21

F or hours, I sat there mulling over every possible meaning to no end. The words in the book are just as foreign to me as ever. There must be a connection between Paul, the woman in the market, and that snippet of a prophecy, even if I can’t see it.

Exhausted, sweaty, and ready to give up, I make the trek back up to my room, doing my best to remain unseen. I scurry up the cliffside stairs and dart toward the door leading to the hallway. I peek my head inside first to ensure nobody is milling about. The last thing I want to do is explain why an old book of prophecies has me rattled.

Neither walking nor running, somewhere in between, I beeline through the hallway on tiptoes with a quick, shuffling pace. And once I’m halfway through, fully exposed in the center, the voices of two chattering men echo past me. My heart lurches, and I mutter a curse under my breath. I recognize that laugh. It’s as arrogant and prideful as ever.

Where can I hide? This hallway offers no camouflage, unless I wanted to hide behind one of the statues, but I cross that out as an option when I remember that some statues can talk. Plus, there is no chance that he wouldn’t spot my tall frame crouching behind a shiny marble figure.

The only way out of this is to backtrack. I slowly tiptoe my way back toward the door. My sandals squeak with each step, so I quickly try to remove them before they grab Olly’s attention. But when I place them in my satchel, the heavy book falls on the floor, and the thud reverberates down the corridor. Gods damn it. There’s no time to stuff the book back in my satchel, so I grab it and sprint toward the door, praying that he may have suddenly gone deaf.

“What has you in such a rush?” Derisive amusement dances on Landers’ tongue.

I turn over my shoulder, red-hot embarrassment burning my face. Olly’s grin widens into an all-too-familiar smirk that makes me shrink back into myself. Landers, standing shoulder to shoulder with Olly, turns to his friend to say his farewells as if being in my presence is too much to bear. His eyes rove up and down the length of my body with a cruel severity.

“I’m in no rush.” The lie is as transparent as the crystal-clear glass windows that line this hall.

“Then stay and have a drink with us,” Olly says.

Landers scoffs and lifts his chin high. “I’d rather be anywhere –”

Olly’s elbow slams into his friend’s ribs faster than he can finish his sentence. But he doesn’t need to. I already know he hates me and has no qualms about making that fact known.

“I have other business to attend to,” Landers amends, sneering before skirting past me. And somehow, even the back of his head seems hostile.

“I’ve barely spent two minutes with that man, and he already hates me. Please tell me that he’s always an ass, and it’s not just me.” I may be used to being disliked, but this feels personal and unwarranted.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he chuckles, shrugging off his friend’s rude behavior like it’s nothing.

“You know how to pick your friends, don’t you?”

“Oh, Radya. Do you ever lighten up?”

Why is this man so effective in baiting me? Every time we speak, he nudges me closer and closer to the brink of madness. Thankfully for him, there is no food around for me to fling this time.

“Ha ha,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes. “Where have you been all week?”

“Why, did you miss me?” His lips roll into a lazy smile.

“Why, would that fulfill some fantasy of yours?” To be honest, I’m not quite sure how I felt about his absence. That night on the rooftop made my head spin. He rejected me, and it stung more than I care to admit. I might have been perfectly content with never seeing him again.

But now that he’s standing in front of me, taunting me with that beautiful smile, I feel myself sinking back into that trap. There’s beauty baked into his every feature from the chiseled lines of his jaw to the fullness of his lips. Hell, even the arrogant swagger that drives me mad also makes me want him. I want to touch the bulge of those muscled arms that strain against his sleeves. I want to press my chest against his…

No, snap out of it.

“To answer your question, I was called to the border to meet with the royal guard stationed there. The Mad King is planning something, and we need to be prepared,” he says, seemingly unaffected by the carnal pull that’s distracting me.

Thinking about the Mad King’s plans is one way to pull me out of that lust-struck fever. “What do you think he’s planning?”

His smile fades as he lets out a labored breath. Exhaustion and frustration etch on his face as if he’s spent long days endlessly discussing this exact subject. “I don’t know the specifics, but our scouts and informants reported that they’re doubling their weaponry production and are recruiting able-bodied men into their armies. Not to mention,” his voice lowers, “one of our scouts had their head returned to us on a pike.”

The image makes my stomach squeeze.

“What do we do if they attack?”

“We fight.”

“But I don’t know how to fight.”

“You won’t need to. There are over a thousand miles between Somne and the western border and over a hundred thousand bodies armed and ready to prevent them from getting even remotely close to you. You are the last person in Mendacia that needs to worry about an attack.”

I notice a slight twitch in his eye.

I should know how to fight whether or not others will defend me. I need to know how to defend myself . “And what if I want to learn?”

“War is for men. You’ll be much safer and happier here, far away from the action. Worrying doesn’t suit you, Radya.”

“That’s not fair. You’ve said it before - King Caelis has an interest in me, which makes me a target. If even one invader, or even a traitor within our ranks, makes his way close to me, I’d be as good as gone. And, have you forgotten that the praecian warriors are all women?” I’ll have to thank Liliana for sharing that tidbit of information.

“The praecian warriors are women with exceptional magic, mind you.” He pauses, surveying my determination. “Do you think that I can’t defend you?”

“Why is it that men always think they are the only defense a woman needs? If I can do it myself, then I’d like to. And besides, if you’re away at the border, fighting your manly war, then you won’t be here to defend me. I need to learn to do it myself.”

He crosses his arms across his chest as his gaze runs up and down my body, scrutinizing. “Okay, Princess. If you’d like to learn to fight, then meet me on the rooftop at first light tomorrow. We’ll see if you have what it takes.”

“You don’t think I’m serious, do you?”

“I didn’t say that.” He didn’t need to. That single eyebrow curves high with doubt, telling me everything he refuses to say.

“I can tell. You don’t think that I have what it takes to defend myself.”

“We’ll find out how true that statement is when you show up tomorrow.”

“Fine, see you then.” I will be there, and I will learn. If an attack comes tomorrow, then at least I can die knowing that I tried.