Page 11 of The Rebel's Prize

Goddess-damned stubborn man and his stupid honor. He was going to wreck himself.

"And even if I was minded to forsake them," he added, "you have forgotten the other part of the equation we need to consider."

"Which is?" she asked blankly.

"That if you are innocent as you claim, then your enemies are my enemies. Enemies of the crown, in fact. And you cannot argue that protecting the crown is not my concern." One brow arched arrogantly, as though daring her to try.

She clenched her teeth and swore in her head. He'd trapped her neatly. He was a marq and an Imperial Truth Seeker. Bound by a double set of oaths to serve Aristides. Damn it.

A grin flashed across his face as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. But the amusement disappeared as quickly as summer lightning.

"Well? I'm waiting."

She relaxed her jaw with an effort. "I am beginning to see why some people find Truth Seekers annoying. It's the self-satisfaction."

"You think I amsatisfiedwith the current situation? With my wife fleeing from me without so much as a word? With my emperor attacked and my magic thwarted?"

She could only stare at him again.

"And," Lucien continued, "not to put too fine a point on it, but I am not the only one with a vow to protect the crown."

Chloe flinched. The fact that she was technically a deserter from the diplomatic corps, a branch of the Imperial army, was something she had only considered after she'd fled the capital. The Illvyan army didn't execute deserters outside wartime, but she, over the past week of her travels, had resigned herself to the fact that perhaps she'd blown up her fledgling career—the one she had always dreamed of—before she'd even gotten started.

"That's why I'm following Deandra," she said defensively. "To find her and bring her to justice."

Lucien's eyebrow arched again. "Some would argue that that is not the role of a diplomat."

"I'm still part of the army," she said. "Someone had to follow."

Lucien looked around the room. "And am I to assume that you have Deandra stowed away somewhere in the inn?"

"I have a plan," she said, scowling.

"You have a vague idea at best," he countered. "Which is why you were looking for a caravan headed for Partha."

"How do you know that?" Chloe asked. She was going to have words with Samuel once this very awkward conversation was over—if it was ever over. When he'd been a smuggler of people and goods, he'd known how to keep his mouth shut. "Did Samuel tell you?"

"As luck would have it, I have a caravan heading north. And a caravan master who keeps me informed. She told me there had been an inquiry from a woman seeking passage north."

"And you assumed it was me?"

"I assumed it was worth investigating. Turns out I was right."

There was the satisfaction again. Infuriating man. "Why do you have a caravan traveling north? Truth Seekers don't sell their services."

Lucien snorted. "You always were more focused on that part of my life rather than the part where I was the heir to my father's title."

"Because back then I knew your father had the estate well in hand and being a Truth Seeker seemed to take all your time." She and Charl and Lucien's lives had firmly revolved around the capital and their circle of friends. Yes, Lucien's work had taken him away at times, and yes, there were occasions when he had returned to his family’s estate to see them and do whatever heirs did. But neither of those things had ever seemed to make much of an impact on him.

Of course, now Lucien's father was dead, and Lucien was the marq. Responsible for Terre d'Etoi. He hadn't pushed for them to visit the estate in the time since they'd wed. In fact, the last time they discussed her role as marquesse, he'd appeared to perhaps prefer that she didn't get too involved if she wasn't sure she would stay.

Likely his mother, had she had the chance, would have taken it upon herself to start ensuring Chloe could perform her duties as marquesse, but there'd been no time for that yet.

All she really knew of Terre d'Etoi were her memories of the two times she and Charl had visited with Lucien, once for Fete de Froi and once for Mignon's betrothal ball. But she'd gone no farther than the immediate grounds around the house. Both the garden and house were beautiful, but she knew nothing of the land that made up the estate. Or even whether Lucien had holdings elsewhere.

"Tell me, Chloe," Lucien said, "what are the major exports of our family?"

Chloe lifted her chin. "Why would I know that?

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