His eyes narrow, but he only glances at his soldiers. Ky taps two fingers under his right eye, then draws one finger down his cheek. Roman nods, then taps two fingers against his shoulder, his eyebrows up, questioning.
The king nods in return, and Roman turns to shift through the door.
Nikko doesn’t. He’s glaring at Asher.
Or maybe he’s responding to the fact that Asher is glaring athim. “Want a rematch?” Asher says darkly.
I watch the soldier draw himself up, and violent potential seems to swell through the room. But Roman turns back, grabs hold of Nikko’s armor, and drags him out.
Once the door is closed behind them, Ky looks at Asher, aggrieved. “Stop provoking my men.”
“I didn’t provoke him.”
Ky takes a breath and runs a hand down his face like he’s exasperated with both of us.
Good. I’d rather feel annoyed than angry and intimidated. “Secret signals?” I say to him.
“Yes.”
“Something else from when you pretend to be a soldier?”
His eyes flash when he glances at me. “Yes, Princess. More of my imaginary soldiering.”
I tap two fingers under my eye, then drag a finger down my cheek. “What does that mean?”
“Keep watch,” he says, tapping under his eye the same way. He regardsme levelly, as if he’s not sure he wants to give away all their secrets. But maybe this isn’ttooprivate, because he holds up one finger. “One”—he drags it down his cheek—“to stand guard.”
Fascinating. I’m intrigued in spite of myself. Just when I’m about to ask about the shoulder tapping, Asher says, “I know a good hand signal.”
Ky gives him a look, then unclips the clasp of his cloak and tosses it at the end of one of the pallets. “Sit, Asher.”
His voice isn’t forceful, but the command in his tone is clear. Asher’s blue eyes are heavy and inscrutable, fixed on the king. I’m still a bit shocked that he allowed Ky to touch him, especially since he turns to stone every timeIreach for him. Especially in a way that seemed so...vulnerable. I’ve watched them jab at each other with words and actions all day, but when Ky’s hand fell on his neck, Asher seemed to give himself over completely, even if it was only for a moment.
He yields now, too. The chain between his ankles rattles on the wood as he sinks onto the pallet, and the one tethering him to the king is short enough that it keeps his hand partially raised.
“Unchain him,” I say. “You can’t accuse me of enslaving my citizens while you’ve got Asher chained to your wrist.”
Ky reaches for the buckles of his bracers. “Downstairs, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Sev’s dagger. The instant I release him, he’ll go for a weapon—or he’ll be out the window.”
“No, no,” Asher says, his voice flat. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
Ky snorts and tosses the first knife-lined bracer toward the hearth—well out of the assassin’s reach.
This verbal parry is different from earlier. Less barbed. I wonder if it’s the food, or if it’s what just happened, the way Asher submitted to his touch. I told the king he wouldn’t earn my trust this way, but it wasn’t quite true. He began earning it back the instant he handed over his meal.
Asher. Eat.
Just the memory of his soft tone makes me shiver. He’s so harsh and fearsome that it makes him downright captivating when his voice goes quiet.
But he betrayed us once. I’m terrified he’s going to do it again.
Though...maybe he feels the same way about me. In the hut, he said that all I’ve offered are lies. The words keep pricking at my heart.
Because I don’twantto deceive him. I’ve been trying toprotecthim. Just like I want to protect Asher.
But maybe it doesn’t feel that way from his side. Maybe all he sees is deception.
Considering what I know about my father and his waning magic, maybe that’s all there is to see.
