“You should sleep, Nikko. I’m not going to.”
“I’ll wake Roman in a bit.”
There’s a familiar resolve in the way he says that. A refusal that’s not a refusal. Even if I ordered him to sleep, he’d lie in bed and stare at the ceiling until whatever predetermined time they agreed on. Atthirty-six, Nikko is the oldest of our group, and he’s been a soldier long enough that he served under my father before me. He has black hair that he wears short, and skin the color of driftwood that turns to a rich brown in the summer. Dark, deep-set eyes, too. When we visit the taverns, he’s never lacking for admirers—though I’ve never seen him leave with anyone. I rarely even see himtalkto anyone.
He’s not shy. Just...aloof. Especially with strangers. Few people know that under his armor, the left side of his body is marked with burn scars from shoulder to ankle. Three years ago he was part of a small contingent that was captured by soldiers from Draegonis. Half of his group was killed, including his captain. The other half were tortured, set on fire over and over again in an attempt to gain information—and later, to lay a trap for me. The Draeg soldiers wanted to get my attention.
They got it, just not in the way they wanted.
After we rescued those who were still alive, I discharged the most badly injured, allowing them to return home with pay. Nikko was among them. I didn’t expect any of them to return to service. Their injuries were too severe, the harm too great. But Nikko reported right to me on the first day he could manage to strap on his armor.
At first, Sev told me to be careful and privately advised me to turn him away. We’d both seen the effects of torture, the way dormant fear can make someone falter in the worst moments. How a drive for vengeance can make someone reckless and wild.
But I liked that Nikko was quiet and reserved when he came to me, unlike the ones who are full of blustering swagger. I’m always reluctant to turn away an experienced soldier who wants to fight, too. So I gave him a chance, and I told Sev to keep him close so we could be sure.
I’ve never regretted it for a second.
Nikko glances at the cold hearth, and I watch him bite back a shiver, but he says nothing. He’s probably wishing he brought that fur in here, but he won’t complain about it.
I rise from the chair, grab the two quilts off the unused bed, and toss them both at Nikko. Then I drop back into my chair.
He smiles and untangles the blankets, then tosses one onto me. “We don’tbothhave to freeze.”
“I actually think that’s their intent,” I say.
He laughs softly, but then he sobers when he sees I’m not kidding.
When the palace footmen first showed us to these rooms, Sev said, “They can’t orderusto keep the hearths cold, can they? Garrett, where’s your flint?”
Garrett pulled it from his belt almost instantly—but I told him to put it away. No matter how desperate I am, everything in this palace is too tense. The last thing I’m going to do is start afire.
Nikko’s expression is serious, and he studies me. “Roman sketched a map of what we’ve seen of the palace,” he says. “He’s got most of their guard placements down. It might be a challenge while the sun is up, but we know where the horses are kept, and our footmen aren’t far. We could disappear before nightfall if you want to move.”
Roman is my best tactician. I’m not surprised he’s already mapped out an escape route, and he accounted for everyone in our party.
I hate that we’re talking about this.
A flicker of motion from above nearly makes me jump. Nikko’s eyes lock on the window, too, but there’s nothing. I frown.
I rub a hand across the back of my neck and sigh. My thoughts are too twisted up for this. I keep thinking about the way the princess appeared, hiding her identity, creeping behind me and Sev to listen to our conversation. Was that a clumsy attempt at subterfuge? Prince Dane seemed furious to see her there, so it clearly wasn’t planned by him. Was it King Theodore? I’ve met the man on two occasions, and I simply can’t see him dressing up his daughter to spy on me. Why risk her at all?
Which means it had to beherdecision.
But if it was...then what was Princess Marjoriana planning? I was prepared for her to hate me, but this...this feels altogether different.
I know you’re ruthless and cruel.
She’s right. I am.
Did she think I wouldn’t remember her? Did she really think we could have any sort of accord if our first meeting was spun from a lie?
Nikko is still looking at me, waiting for a response about whether I want to leave.
I glance at the sunlit window and think of my sister, sitting back at home. I hope Victoria is enjoying a peaceful morning. Painting, perhaps, or walking in the gardens.
I hope she isn’t causing any more trouble.
I scrub a hand across my jaw. “I don’t want to move yet.”
