Memories of the guards facing us in the clearing flash in my brain, and I shudder, then shake my head. “No.”
I expect him to argue about this too, but he doesn’t. His voice quiets further. “Are you hungry? There were rolls left from dinner earlier. Some honey and cheese as well.”
“You should give them to the guards.”
“I’ve already seen to the guards.”
Of course he has. I say nothing and stare into my mug.
Quinttsksand rises from the table, then fetches a basket with the food, returning to sit across from me again.
“You’re treating me like a child,” I say sharply.
“I’m not.”
Well, I’m tempted to act like one and throw this mug right into his lap. I fix him with a glare. “I really will call for Thorin, Quint.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. You will not.” He fixes me with a glare right back. “And I’m not treating you like a child. I’m treating you like a man who’s been through hell and could do with a bit of gentle care.”
Well then.
I huff a breath—then let it out in a rush. I have no idea what to say to that. No one talks to me like this. No onesaysthings like this. My heart is tripping over itself as if it’s not sure what the right rhythm is.
“Did you argue with Cory this way?” I say. “I cannot imagine him putting up with it.”
“With Prince Corrick? Never.” Quint smiles, and there’s true fondness to it. His eyes glint with unshared memories. “I sometimes think the basis of our friendship was the fact that I was thesole person in the palace who never argued with him about anything at all.”
If we talk about my brother, it’s going to summon my emotion, and I’ve spent enough time crying tonight. “Then why onearthdo you think it’s appropriate to argue with me?”
“If we were still in the palace, I probably wouldn’t dare.” The firelight bounces off his features, tracing gold along the red of his hair. “But last night, you grabbed my book, and you looked quite disappointed when I didn’t grab it back.”
Against my will, a flush crawls up my cheeks. Quint notices too much. I always forget that.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” I say, and my voice is a little rough and worn.
Quint says nothing, instead choosing to unwrap the cloth covering the food. He withdraws a thick slice of bread and a knife, spreading cheese and drizzling honey in a way that shouldn’t be mesmerizing, but somehowis. I find myself transfixed by the movement of his hands, and if I weren’t so certain he would argue about it, I’d order him to leave again.
I force myself to speak. “Why wouldn’t you tell me the reason for the dates in your book?”
“I did tell you the reason.” He holds out the bread. “Eat, Your Majesty.”
There are no plates, so I have to take it from his hand. His fingers brush mine, and like last night, I feel a jolt right to my core, and the flush on my cheeks goes nowhere. My breath almost catches. I set down the tea and tug the blanket tighter because redness has probably spread down to my chest. I can’t meet his eyes.
I simply do not understand how he can be so infuriating in one moment, then leave me longing for the tiniest touch in the next.
If anyone wanted to shoot me right now, I’d be an easy target.
I fight for words again. “You didn’treallytell me the reason.”
“It’s nothing. Simple recordkeeping.”
That pricks at me, and I frown. “Please, Quint,” I say quietly. “Don’t lie to me.”
He holds my gaze steadily, and I’m ready for him to contradict me, but he sighs. “Well now. You genuinely meanthat.” He pauses. “It truly is simple recordkeeping. But the meaning is . . . ?very personal. And rather dear to me.” Nowhischeeks have grown red, and his eyes skip away. “I’d prefer to keep it to myself. For now. If it pleases you, Your Majesty.”
It doesn’t. Not at all. But how can I refusethat?
I make a frustrated sound. “You areso vexing,” I say, then eat the bread.
