I made it halfway back to Valerie’s before I was caught again, blocked in at the end of an alley that I would have sworn hadn’t been a dead end yesterday. Today, it was filled with broken wood, piles of trash, and what smelled like enormous barrels of soured mash. When I realized what had happened, that this had been set up expressly for catching me, I whirled, my blades in my hands.
A man I could never beat in combat stood at the entrance to the alley. There was no way out. I swallowed hard, hoping I could at least die with some dignity. “So, Thorn, are you the one the Guildmaster sent to kill me?”
His jaw twitched, and then his eyes went wide. “Hide,” he hissed, nodding to the trash.
I didn’t hesitate at all, jumping into a mostly empty barrel of soured grains and waiting silently while he tapped the lid lightly shut. I cursed myself for obeying him like a trained dog, but of course I had. I had spent the last six years trusting this man implicitly, listening to him and learning from him. Knowing his commands were law… Though this might be the last order I took, if he had come to kill me.
I held tight to what Valerie had said about him loving me. It couldn’t be true, of course. He’d never acted in any way that had made me think he returned my embarrassing, youthful affections. Maybe he loved me as a brother.
The humiliation of the time I first revealed my own heart to him was a crystal-sharp shard of a memory even now.
“Thorn, I have something for you.”
I had slipped away from the training grounds a few hours before—an absence I would pay for in pain the next day. Then I’d changed out of my trousers and loose shirt into the only dress I had, the one I’d been wearing six months before, when he’d rescued me from King Milian’s palace. The rest of the girls he’d sent to Rimholt, but me… He’d let me come with him, spoken to the Guildmaster about allowing me to train.
He’d proven himself time and time again, showed in every way except saying it out loud that he felt something for me.
He was the only man I trusted. I had to tell him how I felt.
I found him outside the barracks, alone. Perfectly timed; the Goddess must have made it happen.
“What is it, little queen? A new knife? The earlobe of some young buck who underestimated you?” he joked. “You’ve got to stop cutting off pieces of your classmates.”
Well, not joked, precisely. I had cut those off when the boys attached to them had tried to take liberties. I hadn’t even thought to give them to Thorn, though. Maybe I had been stupid not to, maybe that was the sort of gift an assassin liked. Suddenly, the thing I had prepared seemed too childish, too pedestrian.
I’d just wanted to make him feel comfortable, like he was at home, if such a place could ever exist for people like us. Make him feel like we belonged together, as I knew we did.
He’d just returned from a mission to Mirren, a hard week’s ride on horseback, and I’d seen healing wounds on his chest when he’d walked to the bathing house. I’d wanted to kiss each one of those cuts better, wanted to press my lips against him and heal him somehow, like Queen Vali had healed her mates… but I knew I wasn’t a real Omega.
“I made you a dinner,” I said, hoping my smile didn’t look as shaky as it felt.
“Y-you cooked?” he choked out.
I let one lip curl up. “Yes, I cooked. Beef stew, boiled potatoes, and bread with butter. It’s plain, but…” I felt my cheeks heat and knew that my pale skin had betrayed my nervousness, as always.
“I’m sure it will be wonderful,” he said gravely. “Where is this meal?”
“In your cottage.” My blush grew deeper as one of his eyebrows rose slowly.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to; I knew what I had done was against the rules. Not the rules of the Guild, but his rules for me. I was to treat him as any instructor when we were not traveling alone together—professionally and courteously. Certainly, I was not allowed to sneak into his cottage and cook.
He let it go. “Let’s eat, then.”
I followed him into his cottage, my courage failing. I’d slipped in and made all the food earlier, but I hadn’t had time to taste it. Still, I’d paid one of the other trainees, Luka, two goldani for the recipes and instructions on how to make the stew. He’d been happy to help once I told him who the meal was for.
“Here.” I grabbed his bowl and plate, and served up a hearty helping of the potatoes, covered by the rich stew. He only had one bowl, so he ate first while I watched.
“It’s... unusual,” he said, coughing slightly. “Very spicy.”
“Do you like spice?” I asked, suddenly worried. I’d harvested some leaves and small red peppers from a bush to make the dish my own. “You don’t have to eat it; you can throw it out.”
“No,” he said calmly. “I didn’t say that. Spice can be wonderful. Tell me about your training this week while I eat.”
I talked, sharing what I hoped was a humorous tale about my archery instructor, though he didn’t laugh. But he never did; it was like whatever part a person had that allowed laughter to form didn’t exist in Thorn.
He kept eating until he was at the bottom of the bowl. Then he put the dish aside and stared into my face, his hood pushed just far enough down that I could see the strong line of his jaw, his full lips, the stubble that practically forced you to touch it.
I’d pressed my hand to his face before I could stop myself. “Roya?” His growl was a warning. “What are you doing, child?”
