Page 16 of Ties of Dust

As one of the guards trotted away, Cassius leaned back against the closed door to his room and tried to gather his thoughts. Upon learning Flora’s identity, his first instinct—after the basic one of putting some space and a solid door between himself and the young woman who’d been forcibly tethered to him—had been to confront Lord Armand and throw the consequence of his meddling in his face. But as his first shock ebbed, doubt crept in.

Would Lord Armand be chastened, as he ought to be? Or would he, in his usual idiocy, interpret Flora’s hidden identity as another offense by Siqual against Carrack’s honor? It wasn’t as though Lord Armand would have any sensible solutions to offer regarding the immediate situation. No one would have a sensible solution because therewasn’t one. They could only make the best of things for the night, and sharing the truth in that moment would make the task harder, not easier.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Cassius said abruptly, pushing himself forward off the door. “I’ll retire.”

“Shall I send His Lordship in when he comes?” the guard asked.

“Certainly not.” Cassius greeted the suggestion with distaste. “As I said, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t wish to speak to him.”

“What…what shall I tell him, Your Highness?” The poor guard looked bewildered.

“You need tell him nothing,” Cassius said smoothly.

He withdrew back into the room, forgetting that politeness required him to knock, much as the action would have puzzled the guards.

He needn’t have worried. Far from being caught out by his entrance, Flora appeared to be asleep.

On the floor.

Cassius stood just inside the door, scowling at her inert form curled up in front of the fire. She looked like a house cat.

Was she feigning sleep? Perhaps not—it had been an exhausting day. She looked so slight, curled up on the rug. How had he ever been fooled into thinking her a man, even a young one? He was tempted to lift her into the bed while she slept, but after a moment’s reflection he discarded that idea. He knew she was safe from him, but he wanted her tofeelsafe as well. Waking to find him moving her sleeping form wouldn’t aid that cause.

He lowered himself into the chair he’d occupied earlier, his head pounding. Exhausted and infuriated, he longed for sleep, but that relief was far from him. Leaning his headback against the wall, he closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts as he ran one hand methodically through his hair.

The soothing motion had its effect, and he felt his agitation calm. The movement had another effect as well. Into the stillness of his mind came the faintest awareness of the magic being stirred up by the motion of his hand. He did his best to focus on the sensation, using the ability that he wished he’d developed more.

There it was. Faint but pervasive, he could sense it. The tether that bound him to the young woman sleeping by the fire. If he felt it, then she must feel it much more strongly given her advanced training in magic. Did it intrude even into her dreams?

Cassius opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling as anger overtook him. How dare Lord Armand? The inconvenience was bad enough, but the humiliation was galling. Cassius was mortified at how weak Lord Armand’s interference had made him appear. And that mortification brought anger in its wake.

What must the Siqualian prince and princess think of him, a crown prince who couldn’t even control his own delegation?

What would his father think?

That thought had a sting. He knew he shouldn’t let his father’s pride dictate his actions, but he hated to picture his father’s response to his predicament. When he’d thought Flora a boy, he’d worried that the king might think Lord Armand’s actions no great matter. It was much harder to predict the king’s reaction given her revelation.

Briefly, Cassius toyed with the idea of asking Flora to don her disguise once again. Perhaps with his help, she could conceal the truth for as long as—

No. He cut off the train of thought. Maintaining the deception in a foreign court was an indignity he couldn’t in all honor ask her to suffer. And he didn’t relish the unscrupulous conclusions people would draw from his deception when the truth inevitably came out.

Cassius leaned forward, his eyes drawn to the figure on the rug. Flora was breathing deeply, evenly, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. He was convinced now that she really was asleep. Silently, he stood and moved around her, allowing himself a better view of her face. Her features were at rest, her hair still flowing freely. It was brown like Princess Miriam’s, but not as full. It lay limply over her shoulders, with the exception of a strand that had fallen across her face. He fought back a strange impulse to shift it and reveal her features.

It wasn’t necessary. He could make out her high cheekbones, full lips, and straight brows. And the nose that turned up ever so slightly at the end.

Irritation spiked through him again. This was what Siqual called a bodyguard? This was the protector assigned to keep him safe?

But the annoyance couldn’t last, not when she looked so very peaceful. In spite of his tension, he could feel weariness tugging at him as he listened to her steady breathing. Carefully, he moved away from the fire. He was still dressed in his stiff brocade jacket—not the most practical for travel, but designed to make a good first impression on the Siqualian royals.

Reassuring himself that Flora was sound asleep, Cassius divested himself of the jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. He cast one rueful look at the bed. He would sleep far better in it, but he was determined. He had to show Flora he wasn’t going to be persuaded to treather like a male guard. So he wouldn’t be sleeping on the bed.

Of course, stretching out by the fire next to her wasn’t really any different from sharing the bed. He bit back a laugh as he remembered the blush that had overtaken those high-boned cheeks when she’d thought he was suggesting they do just that. In that moment it had been hard to believe he’d ever bought her illusion.

Resigning himself to the chill of the air so far back from the fire, Cassius threw down a spare blanket at the foot of the bed and lowered himself onto it. It wasn’t so bad. Or at least it wouldn’t be if not for the thought that Lord Armand was no doubt sleeping like the dead on a comfortable bed.

Curse the nobleman and his officious meddling.

The unanswerable question of how to navigate his dilemma pushed back against the sleep he longed to sink into. He simply couldn’t bear for his father—not to mention the rest of the court—to learn how much he’d been made a fool of.

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