I remember what Alek said, about how Jax wasn’t trustworthy. My heart sinks. “And you told him?” I say quietly.
“What?”
“You told Lord Tycho about the messages you’ve been carrying?”
“No!” Jax says in surprise. He shoves a loose lock of hair behind his ear. “You think I’d be standing here if I’d admittedthat?”
I frown. “Then what happened?”
“Lord Alek showed up and demanded the letter.” Jax looks away. “I hadn’t had time to try to re-create the seal. I have no idea what it said. But Lord Tycho tried to get him to leave, and he wouldn’t, so then they fought. And it—it was awful.” Jax runs a hand across his jaw. “There was so much blood. I thought Lord Alek killed him.”
My heart is pounding. I remember the smear of blood on the envelope. This had to be the same night Lord Alek came to the bakery.
But Lord Tycho attacked him with magic. I saw the injury myself.
And they fought over a message about fabrics? I just don’t understand.
“Alek attacked him?” I say.
He twists up his face. “It seemed pretty mutual. Alek provoked him, but Tycho threatened him with magic. And when Alek put hands on him, Tycho set him on fire.”
I remember Nora’s voice when she talked about the way Tycho healed Jax. She wondered if he could melt the flesh from someone’s bones.
“I don’t like any of this,” I say to him, and my voice is rough.
“I don’t either.” He pauses, taking a long breath that he blows out through his teeth. “I should’ve told you earlier, but Da has been spending so much time in the forge. And … I’ve felt so guilty about losing the silver, Cal.”
“Never mind about the silver.” I set the bucket of eggs in the straw beside my feet. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”
“I thought he was going to kill me.”
“Tycho?”
Jax frowns. “No. Lord Alek.” He pauses, and a new note enters his voice. “Tycho was …” He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll likely never see him again.”
I study him. “Lord Tycho was what?”
Jax shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
But it’s not nothing. He’s blushing. Just the tiniest bit. I’d attribute it to the cold if I didn’t know him better.
I’ve been feeling guilty about keeping secrets, but suddenly I don’t feel like I’m the only one.
“Youfancyhim,” I whisper.
“No.” But his blush deepens. “He’s the King’s Courier, Cal.”
“Trust me. I know.”
He blinks and studies me. “You’re angry?”
I don’t know what I am. I’m afraid. I’m desperate. I’m tired.
Underneath all of that, I feel like I’ve taken a fist to the gut. And it’s stupid. Iknowit’s stupid. I’ve known Jax forever, so it’s silly to wonder why he wouldn’t fancyme, when we’ve grown up alongside each other.
For my mother, the war was more important. For my father, avenging my mother was more important. For Jax …
Mama always used to say you were wasting your time pining after Jax. I never understood why.
