But Jory has a brother who doesn’t seem to care for her very much at all.
The realization seems to strike her at the same time, because her mouth turns downward. Another gust of wind swirls through the ravine, and she shivers again.
I automatically shift closer, until we’re thigh to thigh, arm to arm. I want to pull her against me, but I’m not sure if she would welcome it.
I consider her comment about losing hope for the magic. I consider her life in the palace and wonder if Prince Dane’s cruelty and discouragement is the real reason any power refused to manifest. I know as well as anyone how closely magic and temperament are intertwined.
“I am sorry your brother was not a protector,” I say quietly.
She swallows and glances away. “He loved our mother. I think he resented her for having another child to dote on. And then she was killed, and he resented me even more.” She pauses, and her voice goes very soft. “I sometimes wonder if he punished Asher so severely as a means to punishme. I survived. She didn’t.”
“You truly believe Asher had no knowledge of his mother’s involvement in the attack?”
She shivers, and this time I don’t think it has anything to do with the cold. “I do. Sometimes I wonder if that’s even true—if his mother ever had any real involvement. There was no evidence, and my mother certainly couldn’t speak to her guilt. At the time, I was too young to question it, but as I’ve grown older, I sometimes think that perhapsLady Clara was executed to give the people a clear signal that justice had been swift and the royal family was safe—not that a crime was actually solved.”
I twist that up with everything else I’ve learned since coming to Astranza. More deception? Or simply rulers making a careful choice to prevent civil unrest?
I glance at Asher. His form is still, his breathing slow and even, but I’m not entirely sure he’s asleep. He could be listening to every word she says.
Jory is studying me carefully. “Dane wouldn’t like me saying these things.”
I shrug. “It’s no secret that rulers often feed lies to their people.”
“Truly?” Her eyes lock on mine, full of intrigue. “What doyoulie about, Your Majesty?”
Everything.
But I can hardly say that. It’s not even true—though some days it feels like it is.
The princess flushes and glances away before I say anything at all. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t be so bold. It’s the whiskey, I’m sure.”
“I like you bold,” I say, and I mean it. I find it maddening that Dane kept her locked in the palace for so long. I doubt our alliance negotiations would have taken half as long if she’d been part of them. I look over and smile. “I should see if Sev has another bottle.”
She gasps in feigned outrage, then turns to swat me on the arm, but I block the motion, batting her hand away lightly.
It’s an automatic response, the way I’d react if Sev or one of the others did it, but her eyebrows go up as if I’ve surprised her—as if it’s achallenge.
Her gaze turns a little rueful, and she swats at me again—so I deflect a little harder. The third time, she throws some real strength into it, so I do the same. It’s still playful, but her breath is a little more quick, her gaze flickering with uncertainty. I can’t tell if she’s shocked—or eager.
Maybe both.
“You want to tussle?” I say.
“No, I do not want totussle.”
But she does. I can hear it in her voice.
“Forgive me,” I say. “You seemed curious.”
“I assure you, I am not.”
She is, though. I can tell. She doesn’t look half as outraged as she sounds. Instead, she looks like she wants to do more than tussle. Her cheeks are pink, and I’m thinking of the way she dressed as a maid in defiance of her brother—or the way she helped Asher force me out of the palace.
I wonder how often she has to swallow her emotions to play a role.
I wonder if she’s doing itnow.
The night wind whips across the camp, making the fire snap and gutter. When I look over, she’s biting at her lip.
