Page 44 of The War Queen's Daughter

What is wrong with me?

In fact, I’m positively cheery as I stroll toward the market, and I don’t recognize myself at all.

I navigate the crowded streets, my warrior’s senses alert despite my good mood, absorbing the vibrant chaos around me. It’s easy enough to side-step the oblivious, to assist the clumsy, and even to liberate a piece of fruit for a certain blonde child I see watching me.

Apple waves and accepts the small, round treat I toss to her before scampering off. Which means Atlas’s guards aren’t the only ones keeping an eye on me.

I eventually take a seat at an outdoor drinking place, a shadowed corner where I can observe without being overlyobserved in return. I order a cup of sweet, spiced cider, the taste warm and comforting as it slips down my throat, knocking back the dust of my walk.

I’m not surprised when a shadow falls over my table. I squint up at Zenthris as he slides into the seat opposite me, a faint smirk playing on his lips, his amber eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. I avoid his touch when he tries to reach out for me, but pull away casually. I know he knows the difference. I’m not interested in a repeat of last night, not until I have answers.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, nodding to the serving girl who hurries away to fetch him a drink.

“Fancy,” I say in open amusement. “So unexpected. Since you’ve been having me followed and all. Just a pure coincidence.”

Zenthris chuckles but doesn’t admit it. “I knew you’d come looking for me,” he says with an arrogant air and a wink. “After last night, who can blame you? I figured I’d take pity on you, poor, heart-struck princess.”

I let him smirk. “You’re the one following me.”

He sits back again, silken smile deepening, amber eyes alight. “Ready for more?”

“Ready for answers,” I say, sipping my cider as the girl delivers his.

“No fair,” he says. “That’s blackmail.”

This clever attempt at verbal repartee has suddenly become annoying. “What did we steal the other night? And why is the man guarding it about to turn up dead?” I had to believe Hallick knew what he was talking about.

Zenthris stiffens. “According to whom?”

I shake my head. “I’m asking the questions.”

“I’d rather talk about you,” he says. “The kinspark.”

My jaw aches from clenching it. “Drakonkin legend has nothing to do with me,” I say.

He’s not teasing me anymore, intensity a living thing that makes him shift and sigh. “You’re saying you didn’t feel it when I know you did?”

I’m done with his nonsense. Except my gut has clenched and now I’m anxious again, my joyful day darkening, Atlas’s soothing influence gone. “I was horny,” I say, cold and blunt. “It’s been too long since I had a good fuck.” That’s all.

But that’s not all. The moment I stop speaking, he lunges forward, catching my hand.

And my blood sings with the strange power of his presence.

He holds me though I fight him, his gaze searching mine, assessing. “You really don’t know anything, do you?” His voice is full of surprise, a hint of pity. “You truly have no idea what you are, Remalla of Heald.”

I know what he’s suggesting. The idea is laughable. But before I can tell him so, jerk free from his grasp, a sharp, high voice cuts through the din of the market. “Remalla! There you are.”

My blood runs cold. I turn my head, hand still captive to Zenthris, watching as Princess Vae of Sarn hurries toward us. Radiant in a silk gown of vibrant green, she pauses at the table, face a mask of saccharine sweetness that holds a cold glint of triumph. Two of the other princesses, Nethal and Granthenod (I refuse to learn their names, only their kingdoms) equally resplendent, are with her, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and thinly veiled glee. They have found me.

I’m suddenly free, surprised to be liberated, and when I turn back to the table, Zenthris is gone. Vanished. The seat opposite me is empty, the only trace of him the lingering feeling he’s stirred in me somehow, and a half-empty goblet of cider. Just like that, he’s a shadow, swallowed by the teeming city. The loss is a sharp, agonizing pang. The answers I wanted, the truth about myself, gone.

And in that place, the chilling reality of Vae’s triumphant smile.

Chapter 23

The air in the bustling market square turns chill, suddenly charged with a different kind of tension, cold and sharp. My heart lurches from the sudden, fresh loss of Zenthris. His abrupt disappearance leaves a gaping hole of unanswered questions. My resentment for the princesses who’ve invaded my rare happy mood is as much a wound as his abandonment.

Vae might be ahead of the rest, but her cluster of courtiers and princesses descend upon my table in due time. Their silk gowns rustle, an ill wind carried beneath those skirts, their laughter tinkling, broken glass driven deep into my ears. But their eyes, those sharp, assessing eyes, are fixed on me like vultures on carrion they’re dying to pounce upon.

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