But then he grabs hold of my armor and presses his mouth to mine.
The kiss is aggressive and unexpected, and I inhale sharply . . . before almost immediately melting right into him. Especially when he reaches up and tugs the pin that keeps my hair in a knot. My hair tumbles loose around my shoulders, and he buries a hand in the strands, tugging tight.
My bow hits the ground. The arrows fall a second later. I suddenly can’t remember what we’re even supposed to be runningfrom.
“Shove me up against a tree,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. Before I can process that, he hooks his fingers in my armor again, then steps back, slamming himself into a tree. I have to reach up and brace a hand against the trunk so he doesn’t yank me right off my feet.
“What are you—”
“Hush.” Then he kisses meagain.
My thoughts are trapped in a weird space between awareness of the Truthbringer meeting, fear for my life, and the fact that I would be fine if I diedright here.
A man speaks from behind us, and his voice is a low growl of sound. “What are you two doing back here?”
Tycho draws back a little, and his face is cloaked in shadow fromthe trees. When he speaks, his tone is full of annoyance, and he’s still using that ridiculous accent. “What does it look like?”
“Well, go find somewhere else to do . . .that.” The man sounds equally annoyed.
Tycho sighs reluctantly. “I’m pretty sure we were here first—” But then his eyes shift past me, and I feel a sudden change in his body. Every muscle on his frame goes tense, all at once. Then he ducks his head a bit, almost pressing it against mine.
I have no idea if it’s safe to speak.What?I want to demand.What is it?
“You were not here first,” a woman says from behind me. It’s the one from earlier, with the voice I can’t quite place. She’s closer now, and I start to turn, because I want to see her face.
But Tycho gives my hair a tug, and there’s something significant in the motion. His eyes return to mine, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Fine,” he says to her, though his eyes are locked on my own. Another cold breeze whips through the trees, and this time it makes me shiver. Is the scraver there? Is it right behind me?
“Come on,” Tycho says, taking hold of my wrist. His gaze is piercing, but his voice is somehow calm. “We’ll find somewhere else.”
I search his gaze, wondering what I’m missing. “Sure,” I say, trying to mimic his annoyance. “Whatever you want.”
When he gives my wrist a tug, I follow. Curiosity gets the better of me, however, and when I duck to grab my bow from the ground, I look over my shoulder. A chill rolls through my body, because I’m terrified I’m about to lock eyes with a scraver just waiting to rip my throat out.
But there’s no scraver, despite the icy wind.
Instead, there’s the woman whose voice I didn’t recognize: Lady Karyl.
The very first person who hired me to carry notes of treason against the king.
And the same woman who planned the first attack on the queen.
We plunge back into the tourney, and Tycho eventually lets go of my wrist to take hold of my hand. He hasn’t said a word, so I haven’t either. The crowd is still roaring in the arena, but my heartbeat overpowers it all. I have no idea how much the scravers can hear, and I doubt they can hearanythingover the sounds of this crowd, but I don’t want to be the one to break our silence.
The next time the crowd goes wild with cheers and clapping, Tycho glances at me. His voice is so quiet that I can barely hear him. “Did you see her?”
“Lady Karyl? Yeah.”
He shakes his head. “Her name was Lady Clarinas— or at least that’s the name she gave when the queen hired her to be Sinna’s governess.”
That nearly stops me in my tracks. I knew Lady Karyl— or Lady Clarinas— was involved in the first attack on the queen, but I had no idea she’d been in the palace itself. “She was Princess Sinna’sgoverness?”
“Yes.” His expression twists. “The scraver Nakiis knew she was bad, too— or at least I think he did. He tried to lead Sinna away.” He frowns, a deeper sadness darkening his eyes. “That’s what led to the queen eventually losing the baby.”
And that’s why the king left Syhl Shallow at all. To give the queen and his daughter a chance at safety. I give Tycho’s hand a squeeze. “They’re plotting against the king and queen again.”
“Yes.” He hesitates. “I wonder if the queen knows. I wonder if that’s why she sent a courier.”
An urgency rings under every word, but it’s completely at odds with his unhurried pace. “Then why aren’t werunning?”
