I punch him in the shoulder and he laughs.
But that’s enough to coax a smile out of me. “How old areyou, old man?”
“Twenty-two.” He pauses. “You must have been really young when you started as a recruit.”
“It was right after we came here. The marks were still fresh on my back.” I pause. “The king’s too.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Again: no wonder you joined the army on this side.”
I frown, but maybe he’s right. I remember walking with Prince Rhen in early spring, the first time we admitted our fears to each other. He confessed that the training arena carried his bad memories, while the courtyard carried mine. But it’s notjustthe courtyard for me, just like I’m sure it’s more than the training arena for him. These memories can be provoked in myriad ways, like that ride when Malin bound my hands, how my panic flared and made magic spark in my blood.
For the first time, I wonder what part of Ironrose carries theking’s bad memories. Grey is always so strong, so stoic. I’ve never in my life seen him as vulnerable, so it’s odd to consider him in this light. But he and Prince Rhen were trapped there, tortured season after season, for what must have seemed like an eternity.
I want to find Grey and confront him.
What are you afraid of?
He used to ask me that all the time, when he was teaching me to fight. I’ve never askedhimwhat he’s afraid of.
And right now, with scravers attacking magesmiths and the Truth-bringers working so hard to remove him from the throne, I wonder.
Because, for the first time, I look at the way he’s confined me here. I look at the way he’s confinedhimselfhere. How he’s isolated himself in a distant wing of the palace. How he’s separated himself from the queen.
And even, I realize, how he’s distanced himself fromme.
Since I arrived here, I’ve been assuming Lia Mara was the one pulling away, that the growing chasm between them was from her side: a way of protecting herself and her daughter from a man whose abilities put them at risk.
But maybe that’s not it—or at least, notallof it.
Maybe Grey also sees this magic as a torment.
Maybe, after all this time, he’s afraid ofhimself.
CHAPTER 35
TYCHO
As Malin and I ride along, I’m so deep in thought that I don’t realize the raindrops trickling between the trees have turned to ice. When frost forms on our reins, Malin unstraps his bow.
“Tycho,” he says sharply. “Is it the one you know?”
For a moment, I’m not sure. My heart is a steady thrum in my chest, and I grab my own bow, just in case. The rain has turned to sleet around us, a cold wind sending the freezing droplets into our eyes. I shiver.
But then I recognize thefeelof Nakiis’s magic. I hang the bow back over my shoulder. “It’s him.”
And then, because I’m tired and annoyed and my conversation with Malin has shaken too many shadows loose in my thoughts, I put two fingers in my mouth and blow a shrill whistle.
I don’t even see him coming. The black shape just suddenlyappearsbetween the trees, slamming into me so hard that I’m knocked off Mercy’s back. There’s a moment of complete weightlessness, followed by a painful meeting with the ground that rattles every bone in my body.We go skidding ten feet through the muddy mountainside until we come to a stop against a tree.
Nakiis lands on my chest again. This time he’s only got one hand on my throat. “I told you no whistling,” he says.
“Trust me, I’m already regretting it.” I wince and reach over my head to yank a branch out of my armor.
“Let me know if I should shoot him,” calls Malin.
“Eh, probably not,” I call back.
Nakiis draws back, affronted. “Probablynot?”
