Page 12 of A Court of Masks and Roses
Trace uncrosses his arms, letting his hand rest on the hilt of his sword. “I wondered whether you two are aware that Dansil and Everett are in historic peace negotiations just now?”
“It’s crossed my attention,” answers Wil, sitting up taller. “And keep Kal out of this. Anything you wish to say, you may say to me directly.”
Trace turns obediently to the prince. “Do you understand,Your Highness,that should something happen to you, the leader of the Kingdom of Dansil would become a frantic father instead of a cool-minded ruler? Do you comprehend the number of innocent lives such a disaster could cost?”
“Good Goddess, Trace,” Wil throws up his hands. “Do you imagine that Viva Sylthia goons are going to set up an ambush in the woods on the off chance that I will want to take a ride?”
Of course he does. And if Wil makes these outings a habit, Trace will be correct.
Wil raises his chin. “Whatever your concerns, Trace, the fact remains that Ihada guard with me tonight. That satisfies the protocols that you yourself put in place. I consider the matter closed and ask you to step aside and let Kal and me resume our evening.”
The air between the two crackles with tension. So much so that, if I knew nothing of their identities, I’d be hard-pressed to name which of the two was royal born. I back up a step, my scout’s instinct urging me to watch the rest of the spectacle from the shadows.
“Not so fast.” Trace’s voice jerks me short. “You’ve made yourself a part of this as well. Full name?”
My stomach tightens, but I step forward and touch my fist to my chest. “Kal Cassidy, sir.” My voice is even, respectful but undaunted.
“Well, Kal,” Trace’s body fills the entirety of my vision. “Iwould not presume to question His Highness’s word that you were, in fact, on duty as his personal protection this evening. I must thus conclude that your lack of weapons, report of activity, and basic safety considerations are a delinquency. Have you anything to say for yourself?”
A fair accusation. And a smart one. Trace cannot discipline the prince directly, but he certainly can punish Kal. Conveniently, it would send a message of consequences to the prince while discouraging a trainee from trying similar antics again. If Trace hadn’t attempted to scare me into submission earlier, I’d even grant him a bow.
“It’s not Kal’s fault!” The thread of desperation in Wil’s voice makes me swallow a groan. The prince might think he’s helping, but his obvious discomfort only serves to make Kal a more valuable whipping boy.
“On the contrary,” Trace says. “It appears Kal is the only one at fault.” He shifts his attention back to me, lowering his voice. “Unless...”
My chest tightens.Unless?There is an “unless”?
Trace’s shoulders spread, that subtle shift of weight designed to frighten me, and his voice drops even further. “Unless the trainee has a different version of events to share before I decide on his punishment?”
That hot crackling along my spine returns, any respect I’ve gained for Trace burning to white ash.Throw your friend to the wolves and save your hide.That is what he wants me to do. Not just wants—if the knowing cock of his brow is any indication—butexpects. I wonder if Trace thinks me that intimidated or that dishonorable. Whichever it is, the guard is about to be sorely disappointed.
I meet Trace’s dark eyes, my own unflinching. Frost nips my words. “I’ve nothing to add to His Highness’s words.”
Trace blinks.
I do not.
The guard stares at me for a deafening heartbeat before turning on his heels to cut a branch from the nearest tree. With brutal efficiency, he strips the rod of twigs and leaves—as if either Wil or I needed a further explanation of his intentions. “Remove your outer coat,” Trace says, his attention still on his work.
Wil’s mouth opens, but I touch his knee and give my head a calm shake. My heart beats too loudly in fury to leave room for fear. Shrugging free of my jacket, I fold it neatly on the ground and lower to one knee before Trace—who, for the first time, seems hesitant.
“At your convenience, sir,” I say over my shoulder.
Twigs crunch beneath Trace’s even steps. I brace myself, but the man steps around to face me instead, crouching to come on eye level with me. His large body blocks my view of Wil and the trees, creating a cocoon of privacy that even the sun struggles to pierce. Shifting his attention to his hands, Trace rolls the switch between his thumb and forefinger. “This will draw blood, Kal,” he murmurs softly, for my ears only. “Is that what you want before your first day of training? The truth—that is all I ask of you. Tell me that the prince lies, that you were never his guard. That is all you must do, and this goes no further. What say you?”
I glance at the switch. “If you intend to draw blood, sir, you’ll need a better stick. That one won’t last a half dozen cuts.”
8
VIOLET
Princess Violet Firehorn locked the door to her bedchamber and sat cross-legged on her bed, a small knife clasped in her fingers. The blade was sharp and glistened enticingly in the candlelight. A pair of maidservants cleaning up in the sitting room outside the bedchamber clamored with their buckets and trays. Violet wished they’d leave. Sheshouldbe able to ask them to go, but had yet to find a way of making requests without being thought ill of. There was always something—a wrong word, an erroneous look, an incorrect tone—that gave servants and courtiers leave to think her a petulant little tyrant.
Violet was fourteen, but Dansil’s court treated her as either a child of four or an adult of four and twenty, depending on its convenience. No one particularly cared what was convenient for Violet. She twirled a lock of golden hair around her finger, savoring the long, lush curls that cascaded down to her forming breasts. Bloody inconvenient things that made herdresses uncomfortable without a bind or corset. One of the many,manythings that her brother didn’t have to deal with.
Wil, the perfect son, the crown prince. Wil, who didn’t eventrybeing considerate of anyone but came out looking golden nonetheless. Even after the disappearing stunt he’d pulled today—Violet was certain Wil had gone riding with no guard, no matter what he claimed—he’d faced nothing but a scolding. If that. Violet, on the other hand, wasn’t so much as permitted to step foot in the stables. One of the horsesmightget loose after all andmightkick her by accident. It wasn’t worth the risk, not with so very few girls born in Dansil. So very few future mothers.
“Is Her Royal Highness sulking again?” The words from the other side of the wall were near inaudible, but Violet minded quiet conversations by habit. It was the only way of learning the goings-on of the palace since no one bothered to brief her on anything.
