CHAPTER 2
TYCHO
By the time I head back across the camp, it’s almost full dark. Jax and the other soldiers were gone when I exited Prince Rhen’s tent, their fire banked and left to embers. They were fletching arrows, so I wonder if they went shooting.
That tug in my heart refuses to go away.
I’m being ridiculous. I’m glad he’s found a few friends when so many people here look like they’re waiting for a chance to leave him bleeding in a ditch. But I don’t recognize the emotion that keeps pulling at my heart every time I see Jax with them. Is it longing? Jealousy? I’m not sure.
Either way, he’s not here. He likely followed Kutter and Sephran wherever they went.
That clench in my chest doesn’t loosen one bit.
Across the field, soldiers are laying out bedrolls and starting card games. Bottles of liquor are pulled from hiding spots, whispers calling warnings whenever an officer is spotted.
I head back toward the horses, where I won’t be alone—at least, not yet—but it’s easy to lose myself in the shadows.
When I get to Mercy, Jax is waiting there, feeding her an apple, his eyes gleaming in the fading light. A few tendrils of hair have pulled loose from his knot to fall around his face, and there’s the faintest hint of beard growth along his chin. He smiles when he sees me, but it’s a quiet smile, a private smile.
“Jax,” I say. My heart gives a little skip, because I just want to grab hold of him and not let go.
But then I consider the soldiers, the meeting with Rhen, the way fate seems determined to take every moment of my life and make it as difficult or painful as possible. My skipping heart stumbles and falls.
“I thought I might find you here,” he says.
I’m not sure what that means, and I can’t read his voice. “Yeah?”
He nods, shifting on his crutches to lean against Mercy’s shoulder. “I remember what you said about soldiering. I can tell you don’t want to be traveling with the army.”
That’s a little too astute, and I almost flinch. I hate that I’m so easy to read. It’s a good thing I’m being sent away from the king, because if Grey sensed my discomfort, he’d order me to spend every second of every day in the center of a formation. He’s more the type to face any challenge head-on, without fear. I’ve always admired that. Aspired to it.
Envied it.
I shake off these thoughts. “What did I say about soldiering?”
“That you loved training and sparring,” he says. “But the actual soldiering . . . not so much.”
There’s weight in his voice, and I frown. I know it wasn’t his intent, but the way he found me here makes me feel vulnerable, like I was hiding.
That’s probably what makes me say, “Youdon’t seem to mind it much. I saw you with Kutter and Sephran.”
The words come out sharp, like a challenge. A line appears betweenhis eyebrows, and Jax straightens on his crutches. “Oh, so you’re trying to pick a fight with everyone you meet tonight.”
Maybe I am. But as with Rhen, I wish I could reel the words back into my mouth. I run a hand across the back of my neck. “No,” I say with a sigh. “Jax—”
“Oh, stop. Here.” He pulls a wrapped square of muslin out of the pouch at his waist, then holds it out to me.
I stare at him for a moment, flummoxed.
“Take it,” he says, thrusting the fabric at me. “I know you skipped the dinner call. I’m willing to bet you missed the midday rations, too.”
I take the muslin, and it’s heavier than I expect. When I unwrap it, I discover six dried strips of beef, a wide slab of cheese, and an orange.
My heart gives another clench, and my eyes flick back up to his. I swallow hard. “You brought me dinner?”
Mercy is nosing at his fingers, looking for another apple, and he runs a hand down her face. “You nearly drew your sword when that soldier bumped into you. I figured you should eat something.”
I flush. “I wasn’t going to pick a fight.”
