Page 48 of The Rebel's Prize

Lucien nodded. "Yes. No point putting it off." He nodded at the courier. "Come along, Lieutenant?"

"It's Lieutenant Arret, my lord."

Not an Illvyan name.

Before he could reply, she continued. "My instructions were to put the message in your hands only, my lord. I do not need to know what it says. I will wait here in case you have a response."

"You can find something to eat at the camp kitchens. I'll send someone to find you if there is a response. Envier, come with me."

Lieutenant Envier nodded as the courier saluted and turned on her heel. Lucien ducked back into the tent ahead of Lieutenant Envier. Chloe, he was glad to see, had straightened her dress, picked the scattered papers off the floor, and was standing by the bed sipping a glass of water. Her expression was relatively serene apart from two spots of pink in her cheeks.

Goddess. He desperately wanted to kiss her again. Make her repeat what she'd said so he knew that he hadn't imagined it. But that would have to wait despite the howling in his blood to close the flap, ignore everyone who wanted his time and attention, and drag her into bed.

From the way she bit her lip and looked down, then back up at him from under her lashes, he thought perhaps she felt the same.

"What is it?" she asked, voice still faintly breathless. Their eyes caught, and she looked away as the pink in her cheeks deepened.

Curse all messengers.

He forced his brain to focus on something other than her and the bed and held up the pouch. "Word from Lumia."

He sat at the desk and placed the courier pouch on its surface, trying to think. Hopefully Envier wouldn't notice that the pile of papers he was meant to be working on was nowhere in sight. He resisted the urge to look back at the bed to see where Chloe had put them.

He glanced back up at Chloe, but she was looking warily at the pouch.

"Go on," she said. "Open it. You need to know what it says."

The lieutenant might not have caught the nerves in her voice, but he did.

He opened the courier pouch by pressing his ring to the wax seal that held the strings together. Imperial couriers used charms keyed to individuals—in his case, usually to his signet ring. The strings unknotted themselves, and he pulled out an envelope. It wasn't from the emperor but rather from the judiciary. Responding to his information about the theater troupe, perhaps?

He pressed his ring to the second seal holding the envelope closed and extracted the letter. Satisfaction chased away some of his frustration as he started to read. "They think they've located the theater troupe."

"Where?" Chloe asked.

"Basali," he said. Halfway across the country, and not in the direction they were headed. He scanned the rest of the letter. "They suggest that we ride to Nysalla and portal across to Fierra. The garrison there is sizable. They'll send a navire to meet us there to take us to Basali."

"That's in Partha?" she asked.

"Technically it's Ancalla, I believe." He had investigated a case in the Ancallan capital once and vaguely remembered some of the geography. Basali was one of the larger towns on the trade route up to Partha from Illvya. "But close to the Parthan border. I'm sure we have a map somewhere if you need to see."

She waved the offer away. "Not just now. There are more important things to do, I'm sure."

She was right. He turned his attention to the lieutenant. "Tell the others to ready themselves."

"Very well, my lord," Lieutenant Envier said. "When do you want to leave?"

He frowned. Chloe had been wrong. They needed the map immediately. "Ask Mali for a map if you didn't bring one. We need to work out how many hours it'll take to ride to Nysalla."

The lieutenant nodded. "We were looking at the route earlier, my lord. Another day's travel with the wagons, so we might be able to make it in five or six hours if we ride."

"In that case, we may as well get some sleep. We don't want to risk the horses on these roads at night. It will only slow us down if one of them goes lame. We'll leave at first light."

CHAPTER11

Chloe stared at Lucien as he closed the tent flap without really paying any attention to what he was doing. His expression suggested that getting a good night's sleep was the last thing on his mind, and she didn't know whether to back away or run to him, drag him down to the rugs, and beg him to take her.

Fortunately, the decision wasn't up to her.

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