“—andyou,carella.”
My insides flipped at the admission. “Aren’t those one and the same?”
“Yes.” His hand blazed a heated, intentional trail down my leg as he stepped away. Then, for the second time in the course of history, Harthon winked. “But the first deserves a mention of its own.”
Chapter 24
When Harthon had first stolen me away from Koerlyn, he’d blindfolded me each time we entered a city. At the time, he did it to hide my eyes from his people, wary of the fear it might inspire. I’d hated the experience then, but I sort of wished for it now, because then I wouldn’t have to withstand the bold hatred seeping from every pair of eyes that watched us enter this village.
If Aric wasn’t with us, there was probably a good chance these people would have burned our accommodations down as we slept.
Though maybe that’d be good preparation for the Horrads.
The village was much like my own in Second Territory—small and weather-beaten. Stone-walled, thatched-roofed homes formed rows in the dirt, a community firewood stockpile sitting in the middle of them. The only difference between this village and the one I grew up in was found in a simple tilt of the head. Glance up, and half the sky was seized by the jagged mountains that began their ascent just outside the town borders. Dead trees blanketed their base, growing sparser the further skyward you looked, sharp rock the color of steel replacing the vegetation. I knew there were white peaks at the top, but today, they were swallowed by clouds.
It seemed impossible that something from the land could reach so high into the sky.
Those imposing masses distracted me from the villagers as we made our way to the inn, a ramshackle structure that was more of a large home. The innkeeper, a middle-aged woman, greeted us outside after we dismounted, bowing only to Aric. Her lips pursed like she considered spitting at Harthon, but before she had the chance, a child flew out of the door behind her. She swiped, trying to catch the young girl who was no older than six or seven, but missed.
Which was how she ended up directly in front of Harthon, the frizzy hair atop her head barely reaching his waist. Her delicate features scrunched in anger as she cranked her arm back and threw an object with all the might in her tiny body.
Harthon caught the rock just before it connected with his face.
A collective gasp came from the crowd behind us. The innkeeper paled, all her bravado vanishing in an instant. She jolted forward, fear in her eyes, mouth opening on silent words. But the little girl—her child, most likely—was immune to both the crowd’s horror and the danger she’d just put herself in. She growled in frustration at her failed attack, picked up another rock, and threw it with a mighty cry.
Harthon caught this one, too.
The mother made a sound of anguish, rushing toward us. Aric held up a hand, halting her in her tracks.
“I—she didn’t—”
A quirk of Aric’s brow silenced her.
Harthon regarded the small girl, towering above her, his expression unreadable. Behind us, all that hatred and disgust had turned to fear. Their Princeps and one of his soldiers were there, but neither seemed inclined to stop whatever was about to happen.
Harthon had a reputation to uphold, a façade he always wore in public. I’d watched him maim Jonathan before killing him, slice ears and tongues off of criminals, stare down crying, quivering faces with cold apathy, and drive his blade through more men than I could count.
He’d perfected his image, built it on blood and brutality. But I knew in my bones he would not hurt this child.
What Ididn’tknow was what he would do instead, which was why my breath caught as he came to a kneel before the girl. Even then, he was like one of the mountains above the village, and she didn’t have the self-preservation to step away. Instead, she looked to the ground, searching for another rock.
Harthon grasped her chin, forcing her eyes to his. “Enough of that,” he said, leaving no room for argument.
The girl’s eyes grew wide as she realized her predicament. She tried to jerk away, then froze when he held fast.
“Do you know who I am?” Harthon asked.
The girl nodded against his grip.
Not a soul around us breathed. She’d knowingly attacked a Princeps—the very Princeps who’d once dealt death in these lands. Tears trailed from the innkeeper’s eyes as she anticipated the inevitable violence.
Harthon spoke into the silence. “You have the heart of a warrior, little one.” Harthon released her and tapped her head. “But now, you need to train the mind.”
The girl’s little face wrinkled.
“All of that bravery, that fierceness in your heart, must be tempered by cleverness and strategy,” Harthon explained. “This is how you will be the victor more often than not. Yes?”
She thought about his words. Her head bobbed.
