At that, the lady of House Livna turned away.
Kurtz grumbled as they descended a narrow stairwell. Cole’s mind raced. The weight of what he’d done—handing Thusk’s stolen keys to Quimby just before Lord Livna intervened—pressed against his chest like a loaded crossbow. If anyone had seen and told Lady Viola, a night in the dungeon would be the least of his problems.
Chapter 12
Zanna
Helping the helpless was Zanna’s calling. She’d dedicated her life to it.
Helping the hopelessly arrogant, however…
“This is even smaller than the room I had in Castle Armonguard,” Mistel said as she stood frowning just inside the doorway of Zanna’s room above Fat Vandy’s tavern.
Zanna dropped the clutch of dresses onto the spare bed. Mistel had shopped for hours. The girl was pickier than a princess. “Hope the hardship won’t be too painful.”
Mistel must have caught Zanna’s tone because she quickly said, “Oh, I didn’t mean to complain.” Yet she still wrinkled her nose at Zanna’s spare boots by the door. “I just think we’ll have to announce our intentions when crossing the room so the other can move aside.”
Zanna eyed the narrow space between the beds. “This is a single,” she said. “I asked Hargis to bring up a second bed because leaving you alone isn’t safe. Arman knows what riffraff you’ll attract with Master Chazir’s scheme to play every tavern in Tsaftown.”
No one pleasant, that was certain.
Zanna hadn’t seen Kurtz Chazir in over a decade, but the moment she’d spotted his broad shoulders, sandy-blond hair, and reddish beard, something had flickered inside her—something she’d immediately wanted to crush. Then he’d met her gaze with those mischievous deep-brown eyes, and her stomach had twisted like a smitten girl. Such base urges were beneath her duty as a soldier, and her reaction annoyed her deeply.
“It wasn’t his idea,” Mistel said. “The king and Prince Oren hatched this plan. Cole told me so.”
Hmph. Kurtz was no musician. The young king must have talked Prince Oren into supporting this reckless mission. “I’ll bet Master Chazir went along with it eagerly,” Zanna said.
“I wouldn’t know,” Mistel said. “I wasn’t there.” She sat on the bed and gave it a little bounce. “You seem to dislike Kurtz.”
“Oh, I despise him.”
Mistel’s eyebrows rose into two perfect arcs. “Did he break your heart?”
“Absolutely not. I’d sooner throw myself in the Northsea.”
“Then why do you hate him?”
Zanna wouldn’t pass up a chance to cast judgment upon the likes of Kurtz Chazir. “He misused my charge and humiliated me.” Even now, the memory of his challenge made her chest burn. “The man’s an insufferable peacock, strutting around as though every maiden’s heart were his by right, but he’s a torch in a hay barn. He thinks rules are for others, responsibility is a joke, and his wit is sharp enough to cut steel. If arrogance were a weapon, kingdoms would crumble at his feet. And the worst part? Half the time, he actually pulls off the impossible, which only makes him bolder.”
“Lands! Remind me not to cross you.” Mistel stood and peeked through the shutter slats that covered the window. “How long have you known him?”
Too long. “Met him training for the Kingsguard. Must have been fifteen or sixteen years ago.”
“That’s practically forever,” Mistel said. “People change.”
Didn’t seem so to Zanna. The fact that Prince Oren found him worthy of the Mârad was beyond her comprehension. “If you’re going to change before tonight’s performance, you should do that now.”
“All right.” Mistel spread out the dresses on her bed. “Which one should I wear? Whimsical blue, enchanting green, or passionate red?”
Zanna resisted an eye roll. What did it matter which dress she wore? Tiny thing like her with that hair…She’d draw a crowd wearing a burlap sack.
“Whichever you think best,” she said. “Find me in the stables when you’re done. I’ll have your new side saddle ready.”
Truth be told, Zanna needed a break from Mistel’s prattling. And Tyndor, her black-and-white piebald mare, had no opinions on dresses.
Or Kurtz Chazir.
Chapter 13
