Page 3 of Artemysia

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Rather than acknowledging me, he leans back and kicks his legs out, picking up the stein next to him for a long sip. He directs his gaze back across the narrow alley to the dark window of a tailor’s shop, as if the suited mannequins on display are the most fascinating sight ever.

He clearly wants me to go away. So of course I take a step forward.

He wears the embroidered dark gray cloak and riding boots of the South Kingdom Military Academy. But instead of the standard high-collared white shirt and brown breeches like I’m wearing, he’s in all black, down to the leather blade holster strapped across his chest.

I don’t recognize him.

He isn’t wearing a cravat either, so I don’t know his rank.

My eyes narrow. There are those who steal our uniform and exploit the benefits of our military status without ever risking their lives to fight the Syf.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask, adjusting my dark green cravat around my high collar. I’m still officially a commander until tomorrow, when I’ll be given the gold of captain.

I’m met with silence as he raises his glass to his lips. When he tosses his head for a swig, his hood shifts back just enough to reveal the sharp angles of his face.

I look him over suspiciously, stepping around his outstretched legs to face him. “Why aren’t you drinking with the others?” I press.

“Wouldyouwant to answer your own questions right now?” he bites back.

His response catches me by surprise, and I tighten my palm around my dagger.

No, I wouldn’t. I’m out here having a mini panic attack. But he can’t possibly know that, so I compose my expression and stifle the urge to react.

He goes on. “You can put your knife away. I could disarm you fromhere.”

If he’s challenging me, then he obviously has no idea who I am.

I twirl my blade and regrip it, staring down my nose at him. “Are you a new recruit? Otherwise you’d know no one disarms me, unless they want their ass handed to them.”

The edges of his lips twitch into the start of a grin, but he doesn’t let it continue onto anything more. “You’re full of questions. How about this? If I disarm you, Idon’thave to answer.” His voice comes low and controlled. I can’t tell if he’s threatening me or if he’s having a good time vexing me.

“And if you can’t disarm me?”

“Then ask away and I won’t lie to you,” he says.

He pushes off the crate to stand, leaving his stein behind.

He’s taller than I expected.

Not short myself, I draw up in my heeled riding boots so I’m staring at his full lips. He still has a few inches on me. Broad-shouldered. Lean and powerfully built.

His gaze sinks through me, gleaming and icy. Gray eyes, the likes of which I’ve seen only on a wolf. There’s a bloody slash across the left eyelid.

He finally shifts the hood of his cloak off his head. Based on his gruff, husky voice, I assumed he was older.

But…he’s young. And gorgeous.

Dark hair, the upper half pulled back into a topknot, the rest of the soft tendrils hanging loosely at the nape of his neck. Fine features. A blade-straight nose cuts through his angular face.

He sways a little. Is he drunk? Injured? A bit of both. His weight is shifted off one of his long legs in a way that tells me he’s hurt.

I reposition my feet, ready for a fight in case the drunk part of him is senseless enough to start one. My limbs are lanky, but I’m strong and fast, and confident in my mastery of hand-to-hand combat. The alpha malesalwayswant to challenge me, until they’re on the floor doubled over after being outmaneuvered.

I level an assessing look at him. He’s definitely one of those men.

By his casual stance, he thinks he can overcome me.

They all think that.