Page 68 of The Throne Seeker

“No one except my father and Roman.”

Rose nodded, relieved. She was still trying to understand what had happened. She wanted to avoid raising suspicion, particularly with the high council. “Don’t tell anyone else, please. I don’t want anyone to worry more than they have to.”

Tristan’s gaze shifted to the sword resting beside her bed. “You… you’ve changed over the past year,” Tristan said, his eyes roaming over her. “How long have you been learning to fight?”

Her heart dropped. She’d forgotten he knew about her training. She hesitated to respond, not sure if he’d understand if she told him. But maybe… maybe she should give him thebenefit of the doubt. “When I was gone, my mother and I… we wanted to learn how to defend ourselves.”

His eyebrows raised. “That’s what you were doing while you were away? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because there were more important things going on.” Which was more or less true.

“And are you still training?”

“No,” she said. She hated lying to him, but she didn’t want him finding out that Zareb was involved.

Tristan folded his arms—his infamous stubbornness rearing its head. “Don’t play me for a fool. I’ve been around my fair share of soldiers, and you handled that sword like you had done it a million times. Who’s been teaching you?”

For some reason his tone made her walls go up. “I had a trainer before I came to the castle. But since then, I’ve been teaching myself. I go out in the woods and practice motions, that’s all.”

He nearly scoffed. “Don’t insult me. I’m not stupid. You’ve been lying to me, and you still are. What else aren’t you telling me?”

It was happening—the judgment, the misunderstanding. The very reason she hadn’t told him in the first place.

“Why is it so bad that I don’t want to always rely on others for help?” she asked, her voice matching his in defensiveness. “Why can’t I learn? Tell me, what is so wrong with that?”

Tristan pressed his lips into a fine line. “Nothing—the problem is youliedto me about it. You told me you were mourning your father, that you were broken beyond repair, and now I find out you were just playing fake soldier for an entire year?”

“I’m sorry, but don’t tell me you can’t see the benefit of me knowing how to defend myself.” Her spine straightened, notbacking down. “Look how handy it came in the trial yesterday. How could I have done that if I hadn’t had the training?”

“What happens when a real enemy is on the other end of that blade?” Tristan asked, his hard gaze never leaving hers. “You might think you’re capable, but what happens when you take on more than you can handle? You’ll only be putting yourself in danger. You could get yourself hurt or even killed.”

“Right. So to you, I’m just looking for trouble,” she summarized.

The wheels in Tristan’s eyes turned as they narrowed. “Who’s been teaching you now? Is it someone here?”

She panicked. If the council discovered the truth, they might take their rage out on Zareb—strip him of his title or, heaven forbid, banish him like Xavier. She may have the protection of the king and her name, but Zareb did not. He had already been reluctant to train her. If he was punished for helping her—she didn’t want to think of it.

Tristan’s face darkened at her hesitancy. “It’s Grant, isn’t it?”

Without thinking, she blurted out, “Maybe.”

Tristan’s warmth deviated into a cold stare. “I’ll find out soon enough for myself.”

She stilled. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. In fact—” he grabbed the sword, “—I’m taking this, since you won’t be needing it.”

She balled her hands into fists, her anger fully inflamed. “You know I can just get another one.”

“I don’t care. You’ll thank me later.”

She’d had enough. “I’m going to see Roman. Don’t follow me.”

“Rose—” Tristan called out.

But she had already slammed the door behind her.

The morning sun streamed through Roman’s balcony doors and onto his bed, giving the room a warmth that seemed fitting for his recovery. It was gratefully empty except for Roman, of course, still lying in bed, now propped up by a mound of pillows stacked behind his back. His brown hair was clean and free of sweat, and his skin had returned to its usual golden tone.