A throat cleared outside my tent. I froze, quill in hand.
“Lady Dottie?”
I flipped the parchment over on the grass, hoping the ink was dry enough not to smear, and smoothed my hair down.
“Yes?” I called out.
The flaps of my tent parted.
With the glow of dawn at his back, Ironclaw stooped to lean in through the door. He was dressed for the day in a tunic open at the neck, sleeves rolled up over strong forearms—the kind of arms that could pluck you like a flower and hands that made you wish he would. His black hair was tied in a low tail and the soft morning breeze swept a perfect lock over his forehead. Sir Ironclaw of Landsome was fit for any romance book cover—chiseled face with dark, nearly black eyes, broad shoulders, and narrow waist with daggers at his sides.
I smoothed the blanket over my lap. It wasn’t lost on me that I was about to speak to the hero of Landsome. How many daydreams had I spent salivating over this man, and here he was, in front of me, the two of us separated only by my thin nightgown?
“Did you need me?” I asked.
Upon arriving in Landsome, I was initially opposed to getting Ironclaw and the queen back together. After all, if I was going to fix everything the ghostwriter had broken, I should, at the very least, be compensated with a few hours in Ironclaw’s bed.
But things had changed.
“We won’t break camp until noon today. You’re to report for training at the generals’ tent before the sun breaks the horizon.”
Before the sun breaks the horizon.What did that mean? Now? Twenty minutes?
“Sure,” is what I said. “I’ll be there.” I folded my arms across my chest and made no move to rise from my straw mat and blankets.
Ironclaw looked at me quizzically. My first days in Landsome, I had seized every opportunity to get near him. It was only as he expected. He was used to women positioning themselves around him. For a hero, it was a given he would be the subject of every woman’s attention.
But when we set out from Castle Creneda and I’d received a letter from Sorrel, everything changed.
“Is something amiss?” he asked me.
Sorrel’s letter stated that the TV writers had settled on an important change at the finale. As he did in the books, Ironclaw was going to learn his missing sister had been kidnapped by the Dark Mage, but this time, he would trade a man for her safety, his own cousin.
It so happened that the cousin in question was the queen’s own solicitor. A man who wielded significant power at court. A man with whom I kissed so feverously in his chambers at Castle Creneda, I had fallen out of my chair.
And Ironclaw’s actions would doom Lord Draw to death.
Ironclaw was still staring at me, and I startled. “Nothing’s amiss...only, how will I know which tent is the generals’?”
Ironclaw leaned slightly out of my doorway to look down the corridor of tents. He pointed.
“The generals’ tent is two rows east of here. This time of early morning, listen for the bellowing.” He smirked. God, he was beautiful. “Though I’m sure the moment a beautiful woman arrives, they’ll straighten up.”
Me. I was the beautiful woman. For a moment, my heart sung.
But he wasn’t the man I thought I knew. He wasn’t the hero he appeared to be on the page.
While I was still trying to parcel out my feelings about Lord Draw, decide how exactly I felt about Ironclaw’s cousin pressing against me, the instant I got Sorrel’s letter, all my other objectives had fallen away. I had a new mission, a most urgent question: How do I save Lord Draw?
If I was going to do that, I needed Ironclaw to trust me completely. He bent only to the will of the queen, his fiancée, but at this moment in the story, their relationship was frayed. Ironclaw was wont to go off on his own and do what he thought needed to be done. And I knew both of them treated monogamy more like a nice, abstract idea than a rule.
Ironclaw would never come seeking advice, would hardly tolerate me giving an opinion. He liked to think of himself as his own man. From what I’d read and seen, there was only one way he could be managed.
I smiled brightly. “Thank you, Sir Ironclaw.” I stretched my hands overhead as if I wished I could stay in bed all day, certain the angle made the most of the thin nightgown. I pulled my hair over one shoulder, weaving my hands through it, and softened my smile. “You need to leave if I’m going to be dressed in time.”
At my voice, Ironclaw’s eyes flicked from my chest to my face. He was a stoic one, hard to read—but his eyes gave attention where attention was due.
“The morning has a chill,” he said carefully. “Dress swiftly.” With a last nod, he left.
