Page 39 of Prince of Night and Storm
Did you hit your head during the last battle?Darkan rants, his internal voice frigid. He's always been a master of icy-hot.Have I taught you nothing of strategy? Your play is to launch a frontal assault? I should kill you myself and save Montague the embarrassment of leaving bed to entertain an infant leading a House of Low Fae fools.
Well, he’s in a mood.If we wait, the Prince will be at our doorstep.
Oh, yes, you believe he cleared the field and saved your ungrateful, rabid lives because he is interested in further war.
Don't you always say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?
Silence.
I sniff.I think you give him too much credit.
He isgivingyou what you want, you stubborn child.
He doesn’t even know what I want.
Allow me to amend stubborn to ignorant.
But I second-guess myself, envisioning a line of white-clad warriors. To be of the White Guard is to swear fealty to the throne, give up allegiance to House and bloodline. No one outside the White knows your name or face. You are simply an extension of the will of the Prince.
He'd be a fool not to use them as spies as well, but the onetime I'd asked that question, Danon told me never to ask it again.
Each of the White is as deadly as three of our best trained warriors, which is why we abandon the rules of honorable combat and don't bother to warn the palace. They post scouts like we do—they'll know within the hour that our forces march through the city.
I don’t have any choice, Darkan.
I am all ears. Please. . .explain your reasoning. I will wait. Your fumbling attempt at critical thinking should amuse.
Reallyin a mood.You don't sound like you think it's amusing.He’s also approaching my line of tolerance for his acidic commentary, which is happening more often lately than I like. As if he’s the one suffering from poor sleep, stress, and truly unfortunate sobriety.
There is always entertainment in spilling blood, Aerinne,is the clipped reply.If I hadn’t underestimated the depth of disregard you have for your own, I would have addressed your education differently.
But I’m not above a little petty revenge.Do you know me? What education? College doesn't count—Juliette and I were mostly drunk. And let me tell you, holding a glamour while drunk is harder than it seems.
As expected, the facetious tone ignites his ire—there’s a satisfying internal rush of his scalding scorn. I wonder how often he wishes he could strangle me. Yes, if I survive this, we’ll be having a long talk.
Not just one talk, halfling.
That sounds far more ominous than it has any right to be.
I could force you to retreat.
If I was walking, I would trip. I've never heard his voice sosilky, so chillingly thoughtful. Involuntarily, I glance at Édouard—like he can do anything.
Am I that at war with myself? How could Darkan force?—
But, I'm inclined to allow you to experience this lesson. One mustn’t clip a chirping harpy’s wings too soon—what use is she grounded for life—and I’ve forgotten what it is like to be young and blithely ignorant. I’ve been much too distracted.
By. . .what?
Remember, Kuthliele get—stubborn brats are punished. You cannot fathom how I will relish that day. You have been an unexpectedlydifficulttrial since?—
He cuts off right when the rant is about to get interesting, of course. As usual.
Since?
Perhaps,he says after a thoughtful pause,a change in perspective is warranted.Today presents the first opportunity, after all.
I think you like being cryptic on purpose, just to listen to me chase your wagging tail for a completed thought.
