He spoke while her back was still turned to him. “You look at him differently than you do the other men.”
Her pulse quickened, and she didn’t turn back around until it had slowed. She said, “And your conclusion is that I look at him with amorous intent? Based on what personal experience?”
He studied her a moment, gaze tracking back and forth over her face, but venturing no lower. A respectful gaze. “I mean no offense, my lady. It’s only a guess.”
She pointed at him with the tip of her sword. “Guesses can be dangerous.”
“Yes.”
Just as this conversation could be dangerous if she allowed it to continue. She withdrew the sword, and propped the flat of its blade against her shoulder. Resumed pacing, though unhurried. “I didn’t bring you here to discuss my gazes, amorous or otherwise.”
“I thought not. My apologies.”
She paused, and turned to face him. “You’re very polite.”
There was surprise in the pause between his blinks. He could feel things, did feel them, but the tells were subtle, and she had the sense that displaying any sort of thought or emotion physically was still a novel concept for him. He said, “I am here, alive, at your mercy. Why should I be rude?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “My mother once called me the rudest girl in all of Aquitainia. Polite, profane—manners don’t matter to me. I’m interested in a man’s character. His honesty.”
His throat worked as he swallowed, and she wondered when he’d last been offered water. His voicedidsound raspy. “I understand.”
Amelia resumed her back-and-forth across the trampled grass. “When I first questioned you, you said that you were a solider only, and that you possessed no inherent magic, nor possessed any magical artifacts.”
“I did. That’s true.”
“I know, however, that it’s possible to project one’s consciousness to another plane. To have meetings, lengthy conversations, to share vital information with others there.” She glanced over, seeking his gaze. Searched for some tiny flinch, a sign of guilt.
But he stared at her openly, with his big, blue-white eyes. “Only magic users can travel like that.”
“But can a magic user can travel to speak with a non-magic user?”
His lips compressed. “Not on the astral plane. If another kind of meeting is possible, I don’t know how that would work.”
She bit back a sigh, and dropped the formal tone of voice. Came to a halt with hips cocked, fingers drumming on the grip of her sword. “I don’t want to talk in circles, here. You know what I’m asking: are you sure you’re not in communication with any of the Sel commanders? The emperor himself?”
“No. Or, rather, I’m sure that I’m not.”
“But the mark—”
“Magic is something you can feel, even if you have no powers of your own. If someone was spying through me, I would know.”
The thing was, she believed him. She knew that magic of any sort rippled across your nerves, tightened the skin on the back of your neck. Echoed like a voice in the back of your mind. She didn’t know what powers the emperor possessed, but she found it unlikely he could reach across distance and ether and leave someone unaware that their consciousness had been touched against their will.
But he was a Sel.
She’d been exhausted all day from travel and worry, but her current predicament—forced to trust the word of a member of the enemy army—spiked her fatigue to staggering levels. She wanted to maintain a certain façade around Cassius, but when her vision spotted at the edges, she realized that wasn’t possible, and sat down hard on the edge of her sleeping cot.
“I want to believe you.” That was far too candid, but she was past the point of caring.
He nodded. “I understand why you don’t.”
Amelia frowned, and massaged at the tension that sprouted in the center of her forehead. “Gods…why are you so bloody agreeable all the time? I hate it.” When she gapped her fingers and peered through them, she saw that the slight frownhe’d worn the past few minutes had turned the other direction. His lips formed the barest upward curve, more a neutral expression than a true smile, but something bright had come into his eyes.
“I’ve never actually been part of an argument before,” he said, like a confession.
She snorted. “No free will, no romance, no arguing, hm?”
“None.”
