Serill’s delight must have been written on his face because Cason snarled and made a step toward him. But the prince was closer. He darted to the right, knowing Cason would be too embarrassed to try to interfere and be caught.
The prince strolled through the archway, nodding politely to a couple of women who wore more clothes than he would have liked, even with the scrawling water ink along their forearms.
“Why is that whore even here?” the shorter one whispered.
The curvier one scoffed. “Probably can’t even read that book she’s been staring at.”
Serill flinched at their words, though not as much as the women did when they realized who he was. They mumbled their apologies and curtsied, but Serill strolled past them with a purpose—and in an effort to shut them up—heading straight for the blonde woman who was still staring at the old book on the pedestal.
Her hand lifted slightly toward the artifact, but the soldier stationed behind the book stepped forward.
“Youcan’t touch that,” he hissed.
If Cason had heard the way the man had emphasized those words, the insinuation about the woman, he would have burned through that soldier’s insides without hesitation.
The woman balled her hand into a fist—slowly and deliberately, like she might snap a retort—but dropped her hand to her side in defeat.
“And why is that?” Serill asked, stepping next to her. The woman didn’t flinch, though her eyes did a quick scan of Serill before returning her glare to the soldier. No flicker of recognition at the royalty standing next to her.
The man stuttered slightly. “Sorry, Prince Serill. If she’s with you—“
“She is,” he snapped, cutting off the woman who had opened her mouth to say something. Probably something sharp with the way her fist remained tight at her side. “I think I’d like a drink. If you wouldn’t mind grabbing one for the lady as well.” The soldier nodded slightly, his cheeks burning. Before the man could walk off, Serill added, “The good stuff, please. Not that watered down red.”
Once the man was out of earshot, she mumbled. “Thank you.” Her eyes lifted, a pale blueish-gray color meeting his gaze before flickering back to the artifact. “I didn’t know these books still existed.”
“And I didn’t know there were others who appreciated these sorts of artifacts.”
She let out a soft snort, waving her hand toward the other end of the alcove, where a cluster of men ogled over a blade. “Knowledge is a more powerful weapon than any of those swords.”
“That it is,” Serill replied, reaching toward the book. He could have sworn the woman tensed, but with careful hands, he turned the cover of the tome and ran his fingers over the paper. Burned, but not as fragile as he expected. The prince glanced at the text that he couldn’t read. “Dark magic. Written in the extinct language of the shadow-cursed. It’s a miracle they didn’t destroy it. Even I don’t have any books like these, and I have the largest library of Valisea texts.”
As he continued to flip the pages, the woman leaned closer, studying the swirls and ancient language of the shadow-kind as if she could understand what was written between the images. With each turn of the page, Serill studied the woman. The curves and skin and absolutely stunning green fabric wrapped around her body. The ring of bruises Cason had mentioned were faded, and he could easily see all the scars that marred her arms and back, including a long one between her neck and shoulder.
A world he couldn’t understand. A world that required her to survive by any means necessary.
“You’re staring at the wrong thing,Your Highness,” she half-whispered, half-hissed the words, not taking her eyes off the book.
Serill only grinned at how wrong she was. “I knew there was another flame burning in this castle.”
Her chin jerked somewhere behind Serill, eyes still focused on the book. “I couldn’t let your fire-breathing guardian have all the fun.”
Serill laughed as he turned, Cason very quickly averting his gaze. “That’s a good one. I’ll have to use it on him sometime.”
“I met him in Averlyn a few days ago,” she said, finally tearing her gaze from the book to look at him.
Gods, shewasbeautiful. And sharp-tongued to go along with her powerful and tall frame. His poor, bumbling friend had great taste, and with this woman’s glare by his side, they would cut down everyone who stood in their way. He glanced at her left hand. No ring, and no sign of the man she came with.
“His name is Cason,” Serill blurted.
“Pardon?” she asked, raising her brow.
“The fire-breathing guardian that everyonebutyou is afraid of. Cason Valkip, Captain of the Prince of Severina’s Guard—myguard. Has no idea how to talk to a woman, can’t dance to save his life, and you’ve had him out of sorts since he met you at the markets.”
The woman pinched her lips together to fight a laugh. “He can also hear everything we’re saying with those heightened senses. Isn’t that right,Cason?”
Serill turned in time to see his friend’s cheeks burn bright red, his fingers nearly white as he gripped his fists and turned back to the window.
“You are cruel,” the woman whispered as she glided next to the prince, watching Cason. “But I can see why he was so worried at the markets. He didn’t care about the artifacts that were stolen, he cared about protecting you.”
