Page 45 of The Rebel's Prize

Octarus nodded. "Always."

Something to remember.

Lucien felt a tremble in his hand, though not sure if it was just fatigue catching up with him or the rush of adrenaline from Octarus's sudden appearance having exacerbated his problems. Shaking hands had been another symptom of his poisoning.

He settled himself on the chair and folded his arms, tucking his hands against his sides, hoping that would help and the tremors would dissipate before Chloe arrived. "Did you have a question for me? Or are you just inspecting our tent?" The sanctii had kept a very low profile the last few days. Lucien hadn't seen him once.

"Worried," Octarus said, tilting his head.

What?"Who's worried? Chloe? Or you're worried about her? Is something wrong?"

Octarus shook his head. "No. But worried." But he made a curious gesture at Lucien and then toward the door flap in the direction where perhaps Chloe was. "Was better before."

Apparently Lucien's brain was working well enough to understand what he was referring to. Perfect. Now the sanctii was going to nag him about the bond, too.

"We're fine," he said, not wanting to discuss the current state of his marriage with a sanctii, of all people. "She's just eager to find Deandra and whoever else was behind the attack on the palace."

Octarus tilted his head again. "Not only," he said, but then Lucien heard footsteps outside and the sanctii blinked out of sight again, leaving Lucien staring at the spot where he'd been as Chloe swept through the tent flap.

"Good night, Private," she said firmly over her shoulder and lowered the piece of canvas into place, tying the knots to secure it and then putting her palm against the wards. Lucien saw a shimmer run around the tent as they flared briefly in response to her magic.

"Good evening," he said.

Her brows drew together as she scanned the tent. "I thought I heard you talking to someone."

He shrugged. There was no point in trying to lie. Octarus may well tell her that they had spoken. "Octarus was here."

Chloe looked startled. "Octarus wanted to talk to you?"

Her expression turned vague for a moment in a way that he associated with her talking to the sanctii.

"I am worried," she said. She looked at Lucien. "You look like you're about to fall over again." She walked over to the table and picked up the pile of papers, tucking them under her arm.

"I need to read those."

"I'm sure there's nothing so urgent that it can't wait until you've had a good night's sleep."

He put out his hand, catching her arm. "You don't know that. Anything could have happened."

"Well, if anything did happen, it's already been a day, so it can wait another night."

"I really don't think it can," he said. "I should have read some of them last night. Or in the wagon."

"You're hardly disproving my point. Last night you collapsed, and you napped for most of the day despite your insistence that you are perfectly well."

He stared down at his hand as another tremor ran through it, making it twitch against her sleeve. He pulled it back, but he knew it was too late and that she'd seen it.

"What was that?"

"I'm tired. My hand shook a little. Is that a crime?"

The expression on Chloe's face was a mixture of anger and, he thought, a little fear. "That hasn't happened since we were at Sanct de Sangre."

He made a dismissive gesture but flinched slightly when the movement made his wrist ache. "Another night's rest and I'll be fine," he said. "So let me have the papers so I can do my duty, and then we can go to bed."

He tried to sound sensible and reasonable and, above all, healthy, but apparently Chloe wasn't having any of it. She put the papers behind her back, out of his reach, frowning at him. "You need to let me reform the bond," she said through half-clenched teeth.

He pushed up from the chair. "I already said no to that."

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