Lady Leda could not have looked more different. From the full figure, to the rosy cheeks, to the plunging bodice ofher gown, everything about her suggested a ripe, blood-warm liveliness that confused, astounded, and excited him in a purely physical way that he resented. He could tell from the reactions of the other men that she was considered a great beauty of her land, and he could see that for himself.
But he found Lady Amelia’s dark hair, and light eyes, and stubborn jaw to be far more beautiful.
Tonight, Lady Leda wore shades of brown, heaped layers of full skirts, and a bodice that laced up the front and bared all but the tips of her breasts. Cassius had never seen a naked woman, or even an almost-naked one, and he didn’t think he could be blamed for the way his stomach lurched pleasurably as she walked toward him, beaming, and then sat down on the side of a guard’s cot.
“Hello.” Before he could respond, she turned to the card players. “Would you give us a moment? You can stand just outside. I promise to scream if I need to be saved.”
They regarded her a long moment, and then one another.
One of them aimed a finger at Cassius as he stood. “You’re not to so much as twitch in her direction. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Cassius said, mildly, “I understand.”
The guard mumbled something nasty-sounding but unintelligible under his breath as he and his partner left the tent.
When they were gone, Lady Leda shook her head. “I’ve always found,” she mused, gaze resting on the now-empty tent flap, “that there’s a certain class of men who only display chivalry when they’re certain they won’t have to duel anyone. For instance,”—her head swiveled around, quicker than expected, her smile gone and her gaze shrewd and assessing— “when a man is a bound prisoner. Notice they’ll send you a warning, but they weren’t deemed valuable enough to take along on the chateau raid.”
Cassius had no idea how to respond, so he didn’t; sat quietly with his hands clasped together in his lap.
“Now, then.” She crossed one leg over the other, revealing low-heeled walking boots coated in road dust, and a dainty ankle. “What with all the hullabaloo, you and I haven’t had a chance to chat.” Her smile was two shades shy of friendly.
“My lady?”
“I suppose ‘chatting’ wasn’t on your list of approved activities in Seles, was it? No, of course not. In a chat, I talk, and then you talk, and then I talk again. Back and forth.” She gestured between them with her hand. “Let’s say I ask you a question, then you’ll answer it.”
Cassius wasn’t frightened, but he understood in that moment, her even, white teeth bared to him in a simulacrum of good will, that this woman was far more dangerous to his wellbeing than the guards who’d just departed.
He swallowed, and wished for a cup of water, and said, “I’m familiar with conversation, my lady.”
Her pale brows lifted, and her smile widened at the corners, sharp as knife points. “Ooh. That’s a fine display of backbone.”
“My lady—”
She lifted a hand, and he closed his mouth.
Her smile fell away, as though it had never been there, her face smooth, her expression cold. “If what you’ve told us about your history is true, then you have my pity, Cassius. That’s no way for a boy to grow up. I can see that you would prefer to be our prisoner than your emperor’s soldier.However.” Her head inclined.You understand what I’m going to say, her look said. “I can also understand how a spy would want us to think that he’d abandoned his post willingly. And what I know is that Amelia met with you at length last night, and this morning, Ifound her ill, and shaken.” The flicker of her lashes betrayed a depth of concern she wouldn’t voice.
Cassius didn’t think there was any way to convince her of his innocence. But he would try, because there was nothing else he could do. “My lady, I assure you that I had nothing to do with—”
A formless shout echoed across camp, shrill with alarm.
A woman screamed.
A horn blast began—and cut off abruptly.
Lady Leda half-stood, head whipping toward the tent flap. She drew in a breath, but before she could speak, a muffled grunt sounded just beyond. A short, pained shout followed, and then a sequence of jangles and thumps.
No, Cassius thought, panic welling hot and sickening as spoiled meat at the base of his throat. As a Selesee soldier, he hadn’t known this kind of sudden, jittery fear, the kind that numbed his palms, and tightened his jaw, and painted gooseflesh down his spine in wide strokes. As a soldier, as a slave, he’d known to execute every order to the letter, or suffer hunger, or the whip. Punishments had been swift, certain, and inescapable; he hadn’t feared them, but had endured them in his younger years.
Now, though, the tattoo that had once bound him to Seles burned through, its hold broken, he’d found he possessed heretofore untapped wells of fear, and panic, and loneliness, and desire.
Now, he feared he knew what was happening in camp, he was panicked at the idea of falling prey to those who’d once called him one of their own, and he knew only the desire to live.
“My lady,” he whispered, urgently, and thrust his bound hands forward, chains jingling. “The key is just over there. Uncuff me, and I can protect you.”
Lady Leda turned to him with slow, wide-eyed incredulity. “What?”
Movement stirred at the tent flap. Armor chimed as a man ducked inside. A man clad in scroll-worked gold, helmet visor pushed up to reveal white skin, and pale eyes, and a stripe of bold purple paint that set them off like gemstones.
