“Indeed you did. Trust that Grey will make sure he’s kept on a very short leash.”
I hate this. I hateallof this. I’ve been worried about the soldiershere, but now I’ll worry about Alek finding a new way to kill everyone I care about. I remember little Princess Sinna screaming in the woods, blood running in a thin stream down her throat while a soldier threatened her life.
“Fine,” I say, and the word is sharp. “Any other good news?”
Rhen’s eye widens marginally at my tone, and he sits back in his chair to study me fully.
I wince. I might’ve been ready to pick a fight with one random soldier, but I’m not about to do it with the king’s brother. My anger isn’t with Rhen anyway. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s been . . . ? a long journey.”
He studies me for another moment. “You’re not usually so irascible. I’ve sensed that there’s a problem with the soldiers—”
“What?” My eyes snap to his face. Have I been obvious? “No.There’s not.”
He frowns and finishes his statement. “—and their perception of Jax.”
Oh.
I force myself to swallow. I need to get it together. “Just camp gossip. About the battle in Briarlock. It will pass.”
“They’re suspicious of him?”
“No. Well—not really. Maybe.” I make a frustrated sound, because I remember how that same gossip and suspicion followedmeright into court in Syhl Shallow. “The king was attacked. The soldiers are wary.”
“If it’s causing discord, Tycho—”
“It’s not.”
He stares at me, and I realize I’ve interrupted him twice. But if Prince Rhen feels that bringing Jax back to Ironrose is more trouble than it’s worth, I’m not sure what I’d do—especially if Lord Alek has been freed.
Alek would kill Jax for turning on him. I know he would.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from talking. The silence in the tent swirls around us, and I can see the prince thinking.
If he were Grey, he’d demand answers—and he’d probably get them, because I’m loyal and I’ll yield when pressed. It’s part of the growing edge of resentment between us. But Rhen isn’t Grey, and I’ve discovered that he’s savvy and patient. He gets answers in his own way, in his own time.
So I’m not surprised when he simply says, “Very well. What of your magic?” His voice is very soft, so there’s no danger of anyone outside this tent overhearing. “Isthatcausing a problem?”
I frown, thinking of how often the sparks and stars flicker in myblood now. But we’ll be back to Ironrose in a day, and I’ll be away from the soldiers. “No, Your Highness. I’m just tired. Truly.”
“You’ve said nothing to anyone?” he presses.
Like I’d talk to anyone here. “No. Here in Emberfall, you and Jax are the only two who know.”
“Good. Has there been any indication from the scraver Nakiis that he would be making his claim?”
I frown. Yet another band of tension tightens around my heart. My vow to Nakiis is a large part of the conflict between me and Grey. I promised the scraver one week of service where I would fight in his defense—at the time and place of his choosing.
I have no idea when he’ll collect.
I have no idea who my opponent will be.
“No,” I say to Prince Rhen. “I’ve seen no sign of him.”
He studies me again, and for a moment, I’m worried he’s going to dig for more information, or ask more questions about the soldiers and their agitation, or anything that will make meirascibleagain.
But he doesn’t. “Good.” His eye flicks toward the flaps to the tent. “You’re dismissed, Tycho.”
I give him a sharp nod, then duck through the exit, surprised how quickly my relief at being inside turned to relief at being allowed togo.
