Page 38 of A Court of Masks and Roses
Faster than I can blink, Trace grabs the front of Calvin’s tunic and slams the man hard against the stone wall. Luca and I are on him in an instant, our combined strength doing nothing to shift Trace’s hands. His lip curls, white teeth snapping in the dim light.
Calvin winces and, despite his feet dangling in the air, takes a moment to probe the back of his head. He clicks his tongue at the smidge of blood that comes away on his finger. “Ah, here you are, proving me right.” Trace drops the questioner like a poisonous snake. Calvin smiles.
I’m unsure which of them I want to strangle more.
Trace’s chest heaves. Once, twice. On the third inhale, he turns on his heels and storms toward the exit. The echo of his footsteps still sounding in my chest, I glance at Luca and nod at the question I knew was in his eyes before I even looked.Yes, I’ll be all right alone. Go on after him.Peeling away from the wall, Luca leaves too. With the two guards gone, Calvin picks himself up off the floor. After expertly regrouping his mussed hair, the questioner straightens his tunic, running his fingers over the edge of the collar until it lies flat against his shirt.
I give him a stare. “Why?”
“That boy had no business being down here,” says Calvin, turning his attention to his cufflinks. I’ve never imagined someone daring to call Trace a boy, but Calvin is comfortable with the word. He pulls his sleeves down straight. “Not with—excuse me, Kal,” he cuts off as Wil stalks around the corner, his face flushed with fury.
“You’ll talk to me,” the prince hollers over his shoulder, ignoring Calvin and me. “You hear me?” Laughter answers him from the cell. Wil slams his palm against the stone and grabs a long-tailed whip from its bracket. With a snap of his wrist, the leather cracks the air.
Blood drains from my face as Wil turns on his heels to return to the cell. Before he makes it two steps, Calvin’s hand clamps over the boy’s wrist. “What seems to be the problem, Your Highness?”
Wil whirls on him, his chest heaving. “That bloody bastard thinks this is a jest.”
“I see.” Still holding Wil’s wrist with one hand, Calvin taps the fingers of his free hand against his thigh. “And you believe this tool will convince him otherwise?”
“That’s what it’s here for, isn’t it?” Wil bites back, his breaking voice a sharp contrast to Calvin’s eerie calm.
“Sometimes.” Calvin gently plucks the lash from Wil’s fingers. “But I’ve some doubt that it will serve your goals just now. Let me fetch you something more effective.” Returning the whip to its rack, the questioner picks up a water bucket and fills two wooden mugs. He drinks one, refills it, and hands both to the prince, handle first.
“What do I do with this?” Wil asks. “Throw it at him?”
“Share it with him,” suggests Calvin, motioning the prince back toward the cell. I wait until the prince has disappeared around the corner before raising an eyebrow at the questioner.
Calvin raises one shoulder. “Did you truly believe it would be wise to leave the questioning of a vital prisoner to an untried boy, whatever his bloodlines? The prisoner was ready to talk before you lot stepped foot down here. A bit of kindness and dignity is what’s needed now to loosen his tongue.” He smiles without humor. “The games we play here can shatter a man’s soul. I believe the king’s intent was to teach young Wil, not break him into pieces.”
I’m still mulling over Calvin’s words when Wil returns to the alcove, his face a mix of satisfied triumph and utter bewilderment. “Princess Raza was never the intended target,” he says by way of greeting. “The rebels mistook her initially, with the age and the escort, and it being dark and all. The girl they meant to kill was Lady Lianna.”
21
KALI
Wil’s words echo in my head as we ascend the stairs. Lady Lianna is a fictional hermit, a bloody decoration. She has neither power nor enemies, much less secret homicidal nemeses. Why under all the stars would Viva go to the trouble of killingher? If my identity has been compromised, certainly Kal would have been a simpler target.
The confusion on Wil’s and my faces finds its match in Trace’s and Luca’s expressions once we sketch out the details of the discovery to them.
“How do I tell Lianna?” Wil whispers, his forearm shielding his eyes from the sun. “How do I tell my cousin that the attack she barely survived targetedher? That she might be a target still?”
It’s all I can do to keep my eyes from rolling. “Just tell her, Wil,” I say, running a hand through my hair as my mind returns to the matter at hand. Perhaps Lianna was intended as a sacrificial pawn, a message from Viva Sylthia to Firehorn that his family is fair game in their wrath? Seeing Wil’sdubious look, I add, “How to break the news to Lianna is the least of our worries.”
He shakes his head. “Girls aren’t like you, Kal. I have a sister, and trust me, I know. Lianna will be frightened but able to influence nothing. Perhaps the wise choice is to increase security but say nothing to Lady Lianna herself.”
Good stars, why are we even discussing this? “I think the lady would value the truth.”
Wil frowns, looking to Trace and Luca for support. “Might not the stress harm her health? With the Drought...”
“If Viva Sylthia wants her dead, they pose the greater risk to her health,” I snap, finally bringing my full attention to the men around me. My gaze stops on Trace, who I realize hasn’t bothered to speak up on Lady Lianna’s behalf. “A person needs to have all the tools available to defend herself, even if doing so leaves a few bruises.”
Trace’s face darkens, his voice clipped when he speaks. “Perhaps Kal would have us invite women into the guard.”
I smile, showing all my teeth. “Perhaps one might save your hide.”
“Perhaps I need to work harder to ensure that never need happen.”
“Perhaps you are an arrogant ass,” I tell him.
