“Do you believe me?” I say.
He nods, then sighs. “I know what it’s like to be desperate.” He frowns. “So does the king, for what it’s worth. I don’t know of a Lady Karyl, and I know most people among the Royal Houses.”
“I remember thinking it was a fake name when she said it to me,” I say. “But Lord Alek’s was real.”
He thinks about that for a moment. “Maybe it had to be, because I recognized him when he came into the bakery.” He pauses. “Callyn didn’t tell you that she was working with him?”
I shake my head. “I knew she was getting a lot more business, but she never mentioned him.” I pause. “But she thinks I’m the fool for trustingyou.”
His eyes meet mine. “Because of the magic.”
It’s not a question, but I nod.
His gaze centers on my neck, and he makes atsksound. His thumb brushes against the wound.
“Forgive me,” he says. “I shouldn’t have been so rough.”
“It’s just a scratch.” His fingers are still there, tracing along my hairline, and my pulse jumps. “And Iwastrying to kill you.”
“You’re a good shot,” he says. “The army would be lucky to have you.”
I roll my eyes. “You stopped me with yourarm.”
“Just barely. There’s a reason I tackled you to the floor.”
I flush, because that’s a memory I’ll replay later. “Well,” I begin, but I choke on my breath. Because he’s shifted forward, and his free hand is at my waist, his thumb pressing into the muscle. I all but melt when the warmth of his breath eases along my jaw.
Then he tugs the pin free of my hair, and when his teeth graze my neck, I have to grab hold of his shoulder because my knee wants to go weak.
“Yes?” he whispers.
I nod quickly. My fingers are hooked on a strap of his armor. It seems unfair that he can shift his grip and find skin in seconds, but he’s all trussed up in leather and steel. I think of his secrets that Idoknow, and I wonder if that’s intentional.
I stroke my free hand up the column of his neck, and when his mouth goes still for the barest second, I know it is.
He could likely kill me in fifteen different ways without thinking about it, butthiskind of closeness gives him pause.
I remember the day he fought with Alek, how the other man pinned him down by the throat. Tycho retaliated with magic, but now I understand there was more to the fight than what it looked like.
He said the king took his rings. I wonder what happened.
He’s tense under my touch now, so I draw back. “Your tea will go cold.”
“Ah, yes. The tea.” But he doesn’t let me go right away, and when he does, his hands are reluctant.
I all but fall back into my chair myself, and even though we’re close to the stove, I shiver anyway and take a sip.
Tycho unclasps his cloak and sweeps it around my shoulders. I’m so stunned that I don’t know how to react, and I find myself staring at him.
He drops into his chair. The lantern light glints off his eyes, casting shadows along the muscle of his arms revealed by his armor. “You seemed cold.”
I wasn’t shivering because I was cold, but there is absolutely no way I’m admitting thatnow. “I continue to doubt your claims oflittle courtship,” I tease.
He smiles. “I spoke true.”
I keep my hands wrapped around my cup, because otherwise I’m going to make a fool of myself. But then I consider the hour and frown. “Lord Tycho—”
“Tycho.”
