“They’re a wildcard.”
“Exactly.”
I bite my bottom lip. It makes sense now, why Madame Vera would choose this team in particular to impersonate.If no one knows anything about them, not even their talents, there’s nothing to expose us as impostors.
It pains me to admit it, but Taron has a point. We’re entering the Reckoning with the element of surprise on our side. People will underestimate us. And we can use that.
“Feeling better?” Taron asks, eyeing me. From his face, I can’t tell if he’s genuinely concerned or just smug. Most likely the latter.
“A little. By the way,” I say, “you didn’t have to play hero back there with Cyrus. I could’ve handled him myself.”
“You didn’t look like you were handling it.” An annoying smile plays at the corners of his lips.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” I fire back. “It might surprise you to know that I was goading himintentionally. If you hadn’t stuck your nose in it, I’d have been able to get a glimpse of his energy and learn his deepest insecurities. That would’ve been helpful in the tournament.”
Taron snorts. “We already know Cyrus’s deepest insecurity,” he says, turning away again. “He’s vain and arrogant and selfish, just like the rest of the royals. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to use that against him.”
“I still didn’t need your help,” I mutter.
“If you say so.” Taron yawns, and I let out an exaggerated sigh.
My fingers pinch at the quilt on the bed. I’m tired, too – exhausted, really – but the idea of sleeping makes my stomach churn. Because once I close my eyes, it’ll be morning and the tournament will begin.
“If we’re doing this thing,” I say, after a moment, “you’re going to have to learn to trust me. I can handle myself, OK? I didn’t have parents to take care of me, so I’ve been doing it my whole life—”
I bite my tongue, realizing I’ve said more than I wanted to. A silence fills the room, and when I glance at Taron, I find his electric-blue eyes are staring right at me. He moves towards the head of the bed, resting with his back against the wall.
I can’t tell what he’s thinking, and it’s annoying me. I study his face, searching for some clue to his thoughts. The smallest, most insignificant thread of energy to tell me how he’s feeling.Why doesn’t he say something?
That’s when I notice it – a small, faded scar tracing the upper right corner of his top lip. It’s barely visible, but now I’ve seen it, I can’t seem to tear my eyes away.
Then I realize I’m staring at his mouth and, embarrassed, I leap to my feet and pace towards the window.
Suddenly the room feels even tinier. I look around. The décor is simple – a narrow bed, a small wooden chest, a writing desk and two rugs.
“So, this is … cosy,” I say, to break the silence. “How do you suppose we settle the sleeping situation?”
Taron is still staring at me. “Guess I’ll have to play the gentleman and offer you the bed.”
“I don’t need a man to make me comfortable. The bed is all yours.”
“Well, where are you going to sleep?”
I nod at the bay window, cushioned with a thin, padded ledge. “The window should do me fine. I’ve slept on worse.”
A look of suspicion crosses his face. “This feels like a trap. Do you want the bed or not?”
“I said I’m fine.” I drag a blanket off the bed and go back to the window.
Taron doesn’t make me say it twice before he kicks off his boots and pulls his shirt up over his head in one smooth motion. I forget to look away, and my breath sticks in my throat.
“Only if you’re sure,” he says, smirking as he slips under the quilt and fluffs up the pillows.
“You could’ve tried to resist for longer…” I take off my boots and settle myself into the window seat. It’s not exactly comfortable, and as I stare down at the warm lights of the city below, the stark contrast to my life back in the village hits me – our little cottage in the valley, my warm bed, Elara. It’s all gone.
I should feel sad, but my throat is thick with guilt. Another thought occurs to me – a thought that makes me shiver. Back in the parlour, when I got a glimpse into Madame Vera’s mind, I only saw her and the burly man creep up on Elara.
I didn’t want to entertain the notion before, but now it’s the only thing I can think about – what if Taron was there, too, watching as my sister’s soul was ripped away? And now here I am, sharing a room with him.
