I didn’t believe his words—that I was so naïve as to be blind.
I didn’t even search for reasoning, because I wouldn’t find any.
Instead, Istewed.I stewed so much that my lungs heated and my jaw cramped from clenching, and when I looked in the mirror after scrubbing my skin raw in the bath, I finally saw my eyes aglow.
The rivers of violet and gold were startlingly bright, not like torchlight, but as if they had a sheen. Like the way river water gleamed and rippled when there was no wind, or how a well-groomed horse’s mane looked glossy in the right kind of light. It should have made me uncomfortable, to see these unnatural irises become even more bizarre, but it brought forth an entirely different feeling. One of strength.
Iwasn’tsome naïve villager. I was the woman who was going to help save this world. Harthon, as big and bad and tough as he was, needed me. And these glowing, angry eyes were a stark testament to that.
Maybe if I showed them to Aric, he might finally believe I was themagvis.
That thought, coupled with the energy buzzing through my veins, had me swinging my door open.
Of course, Stefano was there.
“I’m not staying in this room,” I declared.
Before he had a chance to argue, I shoved past him in search of a guard. When I found one, he refused to take me to the Princeps, who was currently meeting with Harthon.
“Do you know who I am?” I demanded.
Trepidation warred with duty on his gruff face, my eyes no doubt amplifying the reaction. But he remained firm in his refusal.
Aric’s hold over his people was impressively absolute.
Returning to my quarters wasn’t an option. It was far too confining at the moment. “Then take me to a room that isn’t mine. Somewhere I can train. Or you’ll find out the true limit to my patience.”
Either this was allowed by Aric or my threat worked, because a minute later, I was ushered into an open, empty room. Stuffed burlap sacks sat stacked against the wall, wooden training weapons hanging above them.
This was a far better place to stew.
I looked at Stefano. “How healed are you?”
“Completely.”
I marched over to the wall, plucked up two wooden daggers, and tossed one to him. “Let’s go.”
He eyed me warily. “Your eyes are doing that thing.”
“Yes, apparently they do that when I’m angry. Now either hit me or let me hit you.”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I rushed him and began to make use of the situation between me and Harthon.
* * *
We were still battling when dusk came. We’d gone from wooden daggers, to hand-to-hand, to individual movement drills, and now we were sparring again. The fact that Stefano was still kicking my ass suggested he was, in fact, fully healed.
The door opened just as I sent a spinning kick into his side. He caught it and froze, both of us looking at the entranceway.
Aric leaned against the doorframe, intrigue on his face. “Decent form,” he commented.
Harthon’s figure filled the doorway behind him. I ignored him, refusing to satisfy him with any acknowledgement.
“We’re in the middle of something,” I said. Harthon’s presence was calling back all the anger I’d just worked off, and I was no longer in the mood to see the other Princeps.
“Don’t mind us,” Aric replied, ignoring the message.
“But I do mind.”
