What if he hurts me?
Her voice was so small. So innocent.
Ah, Jory.
I made her a promise, and I meant it.
I know what I have to do.
Chapter Six
The Warrior
The sun is fully up now, and my men are finally sleeping.
I, however, am not.
My instincts have been screaming at me since the moment we arrived in the palace. Honestly, since we crossed the border. We’ve only been here for an hour, but every shadow seems to hide a spy, every sound seems to indicate an impending attack.
Then again, it’s possible I’m just exhausted.
We’ve been given averyfine set of rooms, with platters of food and pitchers of wine, along with a full decanter of whiskey after Sev expressed an interest. All of it is ice-cold, but the servants have clearly been ordered to spare no expense to ensure my soldiers and I are comfortable.
Sev could have his own quarters, but he’s sprawled on the chaise longue in mine, two blankets drawn up to his chin. He drank two shots of whiskey, so I’m not surprisedhecan sleep. He’s still wearing every weapon, though, still buckled into every inch of his armor, right down to his boots.
So am I.
I think the others are, too—the only sign that I’m not alone in my worries. They’ve heard about how my potential bride dressed as a maid to spy on the Incendrian “soldiers,” so maybe they’re all just biding their time, waiting to see how bad this gets.
Your king torments his own people, does he not?
Her words cut like a blade.
A shadow flickers across the stone wall, and my eyes snap to the windows, scanning each one for movement. My hand has already gone to the hilt of my sword.
But there’s nothing. Just the piercing blue sky of early morning. Not even a shifting cloud.
I run a hand over my face. I need to relax. A part of me wants to wake Sev, because we could find the bottom of that bottle together.
But I won’t steal sleep from my men when they can find it. Instead, I walk a patrol, as if we’re in drafty tents on a battlefield instead of elegant rooms lined with polished mahogany and gleaming marble. I slip through my doorway and glance into the next room, where Roman is sound asleep under a pile of furs, though the edge of his armor is visible. To my surprise, Nikko is wide awake and alert in the chair by the window. A gray fur is thrown over his lap, and a book sits on top of it.
I raise my eyebrows and glance at Roman, then back at Nikko.
He uses two fingers to tap under his right eye twice, then makes a circular motion to indicate the room. It’s a common soldier signal, and I know it.
Keeping watch.
So maybe I’m not the only one who’s anxious.
Mindful of the man asleep on the bed, I lift a hand and signal for him to follow me, peeking into the other rooms as I go. The next one is empty, and when I glance into the third, I see why: Callum and Garrett have shared the bed, doubling their ration of blankets. A dagger hilt sticks out from under Callum’s pillow, his hand right beside it. I can’t see Garrett’s pillow, but I’d bet he’s done the same.
When I turn, Nikko is by my side, waiting. I don’t want to wake my sleeping soldiers, so I lead him back to the quarters that Sev left untouched. Once we’re inside, I half close the door and gesture to the plush chairs arranged near the cold bricks of the hearth.
He must be tired, because Nikko doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. He eases into one, so I do the same.
Nikko will go hours without speaking unless someone drags a conversation out of him, so I say, “Did Sev make you sit sentry?”
“No,” he says, his voice low and unnaturally rough. “We drew for it.”
