“There is no such thing as aneasywar.”
“Then why is the Langlish Empire the laughingstock of the continent?”
“Ignorance.” That single word was filled with so much loathing that even the commander’s rictus smile couldn’t make it seem polite.
Reeve just shrugged, as if this were nothing but a nice afternoon stroll in the park for him. But when he switched into Langlish, and Faron was no longer distracted by his words, she could see the way his hands were tucked into his pockets as if he were afraid they would give him away by shaking. His posture was loose and easy, but she knew him—she knew him whether she wanted to or not—and this verbal battle wasn’t as effortless as he was making it seem. Both of them were smiling, casual and amused, but their eyes were searching for a weakness to fire into.
They hate each other, Mala mused.You can justfeelit.
Faron could definitely feel it, and she didn’t know what to do with it. For the last five years, she had believed that Reeve was a trap set by his father, and she had waited for the moment that trap would be activated. Part of her had even been eager to finally have her suspicions confirmed, to put an end to her conflicted feelings toward her sister’s best friend and be vindicated once and for all. But Commander Warwick seemed as if he’d rather kill his son himself than wield him against anyone else.
It was something she would never have believed if she weren’t seeing it for herself.
And if that was true… if Reeve had come here to threaten him even knowing that…
“I had hoped you would be more susceptible to reason after so many years, but I see you’ve chosen to be a disappointment,” the commander said, switching back to patois. “You betrayed us. You ruined everything. Langlish blood is on your hands, while you debase yourself for people who will never care about you. Continue to waste your life on this island of rebels and thieves. It’s no concern of mine.”
Reeve pushed off the wall and strode across the room with a predatory grace. His gaze was sharp, his jaw set. The commander had clearly seen too much in his long life to be unnerved by a teenager, but Faron saw his hands clench just slightly at his sides. As if he were getting ready for a fight.
“You always think you shouldn’t be concerned about me. That’s your mistake to make,” Reeve said in a low voice. “But I’ll find out what you’re planning, and I’ll stop you. Just like I did last time. Just like I willeverytime.”
Reeve turned to leave but stopped when the commander said something in Langlish that made a shadow pass over Reeve’s face. “You can try,” he replied darkly.
It took Faron a long time to dust off the old knowledge of lessons in the back of her mind and translate one word from the commander’s statement asmother. By then, he was already sitting at his desk, clearly finished with this interaction. His first interaction with his only son in five years.
It didn’t make any sense.
She studied the commander’s back, half expecting him to turn with a smirk that would reveal he’d known she was there all along. But he was flipping through his papers, and Reeve was walking toward the door. The commander didn’t pause, didn’t even seem to be listening for the door to close. It was as if Reeve didn’t matter at all.
Swallowing her confusion, Faron hurried behind Reeve and silently slipped past the door before it shut.
All the bravado Reeve had wrapped around himself dissolved into nothing in that hallway. His shoulders were slumped with fatigue, but his steps were quick with an eagerness to get awayfrom that room. Faron had to jog to keep up with him, and even still, she had no idea what to say or what to feel. Everything she’d ever thought about Reeve—five years of assumptions—had gone up in smoke in the last twenty minutes. Where was she supposed to go from here?
Gods, did she have toapologizeto him? Her tongue might fall out.
Reeve didn’t slow down until he’d left the guest wing of the palace and was making his way toward Elara’s room. Faron mumbled a goodbye to Mala before dismissing her, then stumbled a little from the emptiness that rushed in to replace the magic. Reeve caught her arm, erasing the distance between them in an instant. Once she could stand on her own, he seemed to realize what he’d done—or, rather, for whom—and let her go as if she were on fire.
“Did you know I was there?” Faron demanded instead of lingering on how nice his touch had felt. How she almost missed it.
“Where?” Reeve asked. “Following me? I don’t know when you started, but you’ve been stumbling around loudly behind me for at least three hallways now.”
She believed him. Irie help her, she believed him. And if he hadn’t known—iftheyhadn’t known—
“What did the commander say? When you were leaving that room, he said something in Langlish. What did he say?”
Reeve inhaled sharply and scanned her with too-wide eyes, as if he were trying to figure out exactly how much she’d heard. Then he dragged a hand over his face. “He said that my mother might have forgiven me for what I’d done, buthethought I was too old to excuse it with childhood innocence. And he said that if I ever set foot in the Langlish Empire again, he’ll kill me himself.”
You can try, Reeve had growled back.
Faron suppressed a shiver. Reeve’s tone was matter-of-fact now, but the way he avoided looking at her spoke of a pain deeper than she’d ever taken the time to acknowledge.I’m sorryfelt insufficient for something like this, especially coming from her.That’s so terriblewould sound sarcastic on her tongue. AndAre you okay?seemed like a question she hadn’t earned an honest answer to.
The silence stretched past the acceptable amount of time for her to come up with something. When Reeve finally looked at her, he’d reconstructed his mask with her on the outside where she belonged. Any trace of vulnerability was gone, replaced by a solemn determination.
“More important,” he said, “we have the confirmation that he’s definitely planning something, so we should tell the queen.”
“Wait. We do?”
“You don’t know my father like I do. He didn’t say anything that would incriminate him to anyone else, but he still said a lot. Langley is a laughingstock because people don’t know any better. San Irie is full of ‘rebels and thieves’ rather than people. Even the way he was looking at San Mala was…” Reeve straightened, as if something new had occurred to him. “Curing the Fury will only help him, but I think this goes deeper than that. His loss to San Irie was one of the most humiliating failed military campaigns of this century, and within days of coming back, he’s excused a direct attack, talked the queen into letting Elara leave, and has you essentially working for him. He wants something. He’s planning something. And it’s big.”
