Page 13 of A Court of Truth and Thorns
My chest clenching, I mirror Luca’s nod as if I’m somehow a part of this decision and smile weakly at the rest of the party, who remain sitting.
“So, what are you two fighting about?” Wil asks once Trace walks out of hearing range. He pokes the fire with a stick, waiting patiently for my answer.
My face flames and I quickly raise a canteen to my lips.
Alexa elbows the prince in the ribs. “Don’t ask that,” she says with all the deep knowledge of a twelve-year-old. Calvin coughs quietly and excuses himself to check on Jasmine.
“Why not?” Wil twists to the girl. “It’s not like they are being subtle about it. Why should I feign being an idiot when they reallyareidiots?” Wil frowns, scratching the back of his head, his voice suddenly serious. “Am I supposed to beat Trace up?”
The water in my mouth expels in a sudden fountain, and Luca pounds my back as I reclaim my airway. “What the bloody hells are you talking about?” I ask Wil, once I can breathe again.
Wil frowns. “Isn’t that what brothers do? I wasn’t a very good brother to Violet, and I want to get it right this time.” He pokes the fire again. “It’s just that I’m rather certain Trace would kill me if I punched him.”
“You aren’t her brother,” says Luca.
“Given the lack of familial availability, I think cousin is close enough,” Wil replies.
Luca extends his long legs toward the flames, crossing one ankle over the other. “If Kal were my cousin,” he drawls, “I’d tell her that a man who follows her into Viva Sylthia’s clutches and kisses her like Trace did cares about her very deeply.”
I squirm in my seat, weighing the option of burning the lot alive against the effort it would take, and finally deciding to surrender instead. “And what would you tell this cousin about why this man might insist on ignoring her after said kiss?”
Luca grins. “I’d say said man is likely trying very, very hard to keep his cock in his breeches.” His grin widens to match my blush. “Maybe too hard.”
“Or maybe,” Trace’s low voice behind us makes Luca and me both jump, “said man is aware that we will cross the Everett border imminently, at which point he will become an entirely different person from the one you all think you know.” Dropping the poles he found onto the ground, Trace stalks to an empty place by the fire and sits down. “Now, if you all are so intent on philosophizing this evening, we should cover a few points more relevant than my cock.”
Luca is the first to speak, blinking innocently at the thunder incarnate now sitting beside us. “What in the world could be more relevant—or interesting—than your cock?”
Trace growls. “We can start with Bishop Bahir being a mage, Kal being a magical anomaly, and Alexa being able to tell us what the Order of the Goddess does with the whisperersit captures. Let us exhaust those topics initially and then go from there.”
We are still on that discussion three days later when we cross the stream that demarks the Dansil–Everett border here and find ourselves held at sword point by a well-armed patrol.
9
KALI
“Name yourselves,” demands a tall uniformed man around Trace’s age. His sword is free of its sheath and glistens menacingly in the sun. His four companions, all with equally sharp swords held in trained hands, surround our group with deadly calm. I tense as Trace and Luca slowly lower Jasmine’s litter and raise their empty hands. Despite purposely heading toward the Everett camp, having the patrol ambush us is bloody unsettling.
Wil steps forward, his back straight and face dirty. “Prince William of Dansil at your service, sir,” he says, executing a perfect court bow. “And what’s left of my court. Might I have the honor of meeting your commanding officer?”
The men exchange amused looks, but their commander gives Wil an appraising glance. “I am Lieutenant Copa,” he says, returning the bow. His sword point diplomatically lowers a few inches but still remains poised. “Might I inquire as to the reason for your presence here... Your Highness?”
Wil runs a hand through his hair, looking more like the boyI remember. “I realize you’ve no reason to believe me, but can we agree that our band poses a threat to nothing but a clean shirt?”
Copa raises a brow but nods, a small chuckle escaping his professional expression. With a signal of his fingers, the men sheathe their blades.
“Thank you,” says Wil, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Now, I imagine that no matter what I say and claim, you’ve some protocol for what to do with us?” He scratches the back of his head, his voice sheepish. “We were rather hoping to find you, instead of the other way around. It would have made for a better entrance.”
“Quite so,” Copa concedes. “But as you said, we have protocols that make the particulars of how this encounter came about matter little. If you would follow us to Camp Vanguard, I’d be much obliged.”
“Of course,” Wil murmurs as if there is a choice in the matter. Copa gestures with one arm and two of his men step forward to take up the poles of Jasmine’s litter. Copa is anything but a fool.
My heart speeds as we hike the rest of the way, but I manage to stretch tall as we enter the war camp itself, keeping my chin up, my gaze straight ahead. Anything I can do to create the appearance of confidence that I feel none of. Our plan, if this desperation deserves such a word, is to convince King Owain to support Wil’s claim to the throne and back that support with armed forces. For starters, this means looking more like worthy partners than scared children.
Unable to help myself, I steal a glance at Trace. However uncomfortable the entrance is for me, I know it’s a hundred times worse for him. But his steady gait and calm face give away nothing. Which is infuriating.
From the stares of Camp Vanguard’s soldiers at ourprocession of ragtag invaders, I’m certain we’ve failed to create the first impression we wished for. The Everett soldiers, on the other hand, look every bit the part of a well-trained army. Clean and orderly and similar, the men share Trace’s dark eyes and light hair. Shades of blond and silver locks, cut short and neat, are abundant. As are people. Young, vibrant, strong.Stars.I’ve not the slightest idea how Dansil ever thought we could match Everett in combat. Or in anything else. The Everett army has not stepped foot onto Dansil soil, yet I already feel conquered. Or conqueredagain, since Bahir has laid his claim to Firehorn’s throne.
Trace’s gaze slides to me for the first time in days, and it’s all I can do to keep from grabbing his hand like some helpless little girl. But stars, I want to. I want to feel his warmth and his strength and know that I am not alone, in a way that only touch can say. I want it so badly that my heart races and my fingers twitch at my side. I hate myself for the want. The need. Especially since Trace’s interest in me, if it ever existed, seems to have changed course the moment our lips touched. Much like our first kiss, which disappeared the moment it was over, like Trace took a great broom and swept it from his memory.
