Why all the secrecy?
I need some time to think without her slippery voice feeding me stories and poems that are illogical and nonsensical.
Emyr bends until he’s eye level with me, drawing my gaze back to him. “Your capabilities are such tantalizing mysteries that we’ll unravel together,” he promises.
“How do you plan to do that, High General?” I reply.
One of his rare dimpled smiles crosses his features. It’s the kind of smile that warms even the iciest of chills in the air. It’s a grin that I’m certain makes women forget their surroundings, because I do in this moment with him. It is one that is hopeful and infectious. I wonder how different he’d be if he were allowed to be more like this.
The commanding High General Emyr is… mildly attractive.
Yet it’s the soft and kind Prince Emyreus that captures my heart.
My knees threaten to give way at the thought of him in his royal attire again, but my stubborn pride won’t allow such fantasies to continue any further. So I return the gesture with a grin of my own. He watches me with rapt attention, his features growing lighter with each passing second. Leaning in, he brushes a chaste kiss on my forehead, then he abruptly pulls away.
“We’re going to test it in your training. We begin tomorrow,” he says. I follow him inside and can’t help but marvel at the expanse of his broad shoulders. My hands still remember the feel of his hardened chestand biceps curled around me as we danced and spoke last night—which now feels like a lifetime ago.
He retrieves his helmet from the ground, resituating it on his head before opening the door. The Cadre are standing outside, attempting to peer in; however, he blocks their view.
“I presume all is well?” Virgil asks in a clipped tone.
“It appears that the stubborn fools finally stopped their quarreling,” Riordan jests. I can practically imagine the wiggling of his brows beneath his helmet.
“Yes, our training begins in the morning,” Emyr growls in his general voice.
Okay, it’s definitely more than justmildlyattractive when it isn’t being thrown in my direction.
As if he heard my thoughts, he winks at me.
“Be ready at dawn,” he commands, closing the door behind him.
I release the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Siorai, save me.
“I’m quitecertain I can’t do this,” Maeva wheezes, sweat pouring down her brow as she dry heaves.
“As you’ve mentioned for the last week. That line is getting old, Rosey,” I laugh.
She rattles off a number of indiscernible words that I’m sure curse me to a swift but painful end.
“Now, now,” Riordan teases, the rest of the Cadre jogging up. “There’s no need for such foul language from a lovely lady like yourself.”
She wheezes heavily, holding up an index finger. “Let me… catch my… breath, and I’ll… show you… how ladylike I am when… my fists connect with your face,” she retorts.
Virgil and Laisren combust into raucous laughter, to which Maeva responds with muttered curses. Riordan mimics her running form, followed by her wheezing stance, which only encourages laughter.
“Bloody brutes,” Maeva grumbles.
I stifle a laugh with a cough.
She turns her icy glare in my direction. “You must desire death today, Prince,” she snarls.
I shrug, winking once. “Only if it’s by your hand, my Rosey,” I tease. “But then you’d have the issue of finding someone else to train you. I suppose if you prefer Domhnall?—”
“No!” she interrupts, wiping her hands clean of sweat. “Let’s not dilly dally boys, as I am in need of an ice bath and wish for this torture to end.”
“To the courtyard!” Riordan yells.