“Make sure he knows he’s welcome to call at court if it suits him. I don’t think Harper will forgive me for not bringing him around this morning, but I know you both needed to rest.”
I doubt Jax would willingly go anywhere near Prince Rhen, but I nod. “I’ll tell him.”
Rhen looks up, and I’m not sure what he sees in my face, but there must be longing in my voice, because he says, “Go, Tycho. You have less than a day of liberty. I know you don’t want to spend it inhere.”
I sigh, but he’s right. I shove myself out of the chair.
Rhen goes back to his letter, all business once again. His golden hair falls over the patch covering his missing eye, and I think of the way he asked about trust. I think of the way he asked aboutfriendship, as if he wasn’t sure.
I would never call him lonely, but just now, I’m the one who isn’t sure.
I’ve stopped in the doorway, but he doesn’t look up, and his pen doesn’t stop moving. “Don’t linger,” he says lightly. “It’s unbecoming.”
“Do you care to spar tomorrow?” I say. “We could meet in the arena before I have to leave.”
His hand goes still, and for a moment, there’s a sudden weight in the room.
I instantly realize why, and I wish I could undo it.
Rhenhatesthe arena, the way I hate the soldiers, or the gold-and-red livery, or the memories of my childhood. He has just as many demons as I do. His are different, but just as haunting, formed by years of torment. I don’t knowallthe details—but I know he and Grey used to be tortured in that arena.
“Forgive me,” I say immediately. “I only meant—we could meet in the courtyard instead—”
“I know what you meant.” His voice is a bit hollow, and he looks back at his paper. “And the courtyard tormentsyou, does it not?”
Silver hell.
Rhen still hasn’t looked up, and now that feels very deliberate.
I let out a breath and turn away. He offered friendship, he asked fortrust, and now I worry that I’ve unraveled it.
“Forgive me,” I say again. “I meant no harm. I thought you might enjoy the swordplay.” I don’t wait for a response; I simply turn for the door.
But the prince speaks at my back. “Tycho,” he says. “I admire your loyalty, too. I’ll do my best to make sure Jax faces few hardships until you return.”
I hesitate. He’s already done enough, and he shouldn’t have to trouble himself with that. But it’s like we’rebothstumbling through the concept of friendship, and with Prince Rhen, it’s odd to consider him stumbling through anything.
“Thank you,” I say, looking over my shoulder.
“And I would enjoy a bit of swordplay,” he says, without looking up. That hollow note is back in his voice. “But I haven’t drawn blades in that arena since Emberfall was trapped by the curse.”
I frown. “Your Highness, I swear to you. I didn’t intend—”
“I know,” he says. He finally looks up at me, and the hair falls back from the patch over his eye, leaving the scars that peek out from behind it fully visible. “But maybe it’s time to leave old wounds behind. I’ll meet you in the arena, Tycho. Two hours past sunrise. Don’t be late.”
CHAPTER 7
JAX
A distant, rhythmic clanging wakes me, and for a moment, I think I’m back in Briarlock, my father working in the forge, waiting to clip me on the ear for sleeping late.
But this bed is much too soft to be the one I left behind, and the clanging is far too muffled. My eyes open to find late afternoon sunlight peeking around the heavy woolen curtains of my new bedroom in the Shield House.
It’s real. I’m here.I rub at my eyes and stare at the ceiling as if I have to prove it to myself over and over. My skin and hair don’t even feel the same. They definitely don’tsmellthe same. We had buckets from the well and the heat of the forge at home, so a hot bath was never really a luxury, but the only soap we had was made from tallow and ash. It never fully got rid of the soot that would cling to our fingers, and everything always smelled faintly of woodsmoke.
My washroom here in the Shield House is stocked with jars of creams and lotions and perfectly cut squares of soap, all of which smell likeoranges or lilacs or melted caramels. After Tycho left, I soaked in the warm water until I was worried I was going to fall asleep.
The clanging from the nearby forge continues, but as Tycho promised, the Shield House itself is quiet. I haven’t been trulyalonein weeks, and it’s odd to suddenly have so much space to myself. The light around my curtains seems fairly bright, so it must be a while until sundown and Tycho’s return. I think of the way he pinned me against the door earlier, and heat crawls up my neck.
