“Is he always like that?” I ask Brevan.
“He is a prince. Now, come. I’ll show you to your rooms.” He steps toward the door, then waits for me to join him.
The halls are dark and full of shadows. Lamplight flickers from sparse lanterns attached to the walls. I’m not sure if it’s magic keeping the flames alight or if they use oil to keep them running.
This hall has no other decoration, though we do pass the occasional night legionnaire standing guard. Their eyes follow us, but they retain their stiff postures. The men stationed along our walk wear the typical armor of the Night Legion. The emperor’s crest is embossed in the center of the black leather. The armor is stiff and ornamental. Like it would be challenging to move in. I wonder if the night legionnaires who are sent in to raze whole villages wear the same.
“You don’t look like a legionnaire,” I say to my guide.
“That’s because I’m not,” he replies.
“So what are you?”
He continues alongside me, not even glancing my way. He leads us up two flights of stairs, then down a long hall.
“You’re special, I suppose. Different from the faceless, nameless legionnaires.” I tap my finger on my chin, making a show of thinking. “Are you the emperor’s assassin?”
No reply.
“No, you can’t be. Because you’d be too valuable to be sent to simply babysit me. Are you his cousin? A royal relative too far from the throne to be a threat but too close to be enlisted?”
Nothing. We’re still walking. Up more stairs, down another hall.
“A mercenary? Maybe he pays you for your loyalty. Or you’re on the run from across the sea. A fugitive from the mines of the Shatterlands.”
He continues without any acknowledgement that I’m following alongside him.
“Oh, I know what it is,” I say. “You’re his lover. Perhaps I won’t have to worry about bearing him any children.”
He finally glances over at me. “Do you ever shut up?”
“No.”
“The prince isn’t going to like that.”
“Have you ever noticed how nobody ever asks the princess what she likes?” There’s something about Brevan that makes me keep talking even when I know I shouldn’t.
He stops in front of a large wood door. The hall we’re in is well lit, and gorgeous tapestries cover most of the bare stone.
“Does anyone ever ask you what you want?” I chance.
For a second, I think I see the faintest upturn of his lips. “I serve the empire. That’s what I want.”
“I’m sure your parents are very proud of you,” I say in my most princess-like tone.
“They’re dead.”
“I’m sorry.” The concern in my voice is genuine, but I quickly regain control of myself. “I suppose this is the place?” I incline my head toward the door.
“Yes. Your ladies will assist you from here. I will stand guard for now.”
“Am I supposed to feel comforted by that?”
“Feel however you like, Your Highness.” He leans past me and turns the handle, then pushes the door open.
Before I can come up with a snarky reply, I’m swept into the room in a whirlwind of black silk and dark curls.
The ladies chitter like a group of excited squirrels while they pass me around like their new plaything. They speak in rapid-fire, high-pitched tones that are impossible to keep up with.
