But she knew she wouldn’t last more than a week. Damn them.
“Or you can stay here, and we’ll figure it out in the morning,” Tor said with a conciliatory smile.
She dipped her chin in agreement and turned back to her food, filled with a riot of confused and uncomfortable emotions.
Should she leave? Should she stay? She watched the two men uncertainly as they ignored her to concentrate on their food.
Who were they, these self-proclaimed mercenaries? And what right did they have to judge her? They didn’t know what her life had been like. While they had been out in the world, living their lives, she had been locked away to slowly suffocate. None ofthemwanted to take the throne—Alanna herself had refused it—but they didn’t see the hypocrisy of trying to force it on her.
And yet… and yet… they were helping her, weren’t they? Or at least, they seemed to think they were. And what if there genuinely was a war? What if lots of people got hurt?Herpeople.
Should she feel responsible for a kingdom full of people she had never known and who had never cared for her? She thought back on the casual disrespect and downright nastiness of the staff who had surrounded her at the manor. Should she sacrifice her life for them? For Cerdic and Claudius?
She sighed, wishing she hadn’t given herself the lieutenant’s name. The man whose job it was to imprison her. Who watched her as if she was an errant child and didn’t hesitate to discipline her like one. She could have kicked herself for that. Hard. But she had been under pressure to come up with something quickly, and it was the first thing that came into her mind. Which was pretty damn sad, when she thought about it.
And now they wanted her to go to live in a palace she had never even seen, to rule over people she had never met, without ever once doing one single thing she’d chosen for herself.
If they were even telling the truth.
When Mathos had been telling her about how her brother had died, she’d been so focused on the idea that she might finally be free that she hadn’t thought to ask who these Hawks were or how one of them came to be in trial by combat with her brother in the first place.
If Alanna had truly known she was alive and genuinely wished her well, then why, in all these months, had she never bothered to come and see her?
And what had happened to Grendel? She had loathed her brother’s best friend, but it was quite suspicious that he was also conveniently dead.
She wanted to ask all those questions, but she couldn’t. Showing that kind of interest, knowing the things she knew, would only confirm that she was Lucilla, and she’d already given away too much.
Everything would be so much better if they had just believed her when she told them she was Claudia. They could have helped her find the nearest road, and she would have disappeared into the countryside, none the wiser, not having to deal with this newly woken feeling of responsibility.
Damn them. And especially damn Mathos with his too-big arms and his too cocky smile and his too arrogant, too grumpy, too annoying attitude.
She glanced across at him as he scowled at his food. His scales were rippling and flickering up his wrists and onto the heavy muscles of his forearms in a rich burgundy sheen, jewel-like with their gold rims. Fascinating and beautiful, with an air of danger.
He must have felt her gaze, because he looked up and caught her eye, and she quickly looked away to concentrate on her plate while she worked to get her face back to the serene façade—the indifferent mask that allowed her to think her thoughts and make her plans without being punished for them.
When she finished eating, Mathos took her empty plate and added it to his and Tor’s, his lip curling ever so slightly with disdain.
It was only after he’d wiped them down with handfuls of long grass and then polished them on a cleaning cloth that she realized that he and Tor had done all the work while she had sat and watched them. Gods.
She was trying to decide whether an apology would make it even worse when Mathos grunted and gestured toward one of the tents. “You can sleep in my tent tonight.”
“What about you?” she asked uncertainly, suddenly nervous again. They hadn’t hurt her, had even given her the choice to leave, but that didn’t mean she wanted to share a bedroll.
She couldn’t deny that he was attractive, with his long muscles flexing as he worked, deep voice, and intense hazel-brown eyes enhanced by fine crinkles that showed he laughed often. But she didn’t trust him, not at all. And there was no way she was sleeping beside him.
She stood up and took a step toward the woods.
Mathos narrowed his eyes for a moment, but then seemed to reconsider and soften slightly. “I didn’t mean… bollocks. The tent is all yours. Tor and I will take the other one; we need to take turns on watch anyway.”
He rubbed his hand over his face tiredly, seeming to reach some kind of conclusion. “You know what, Tor’s right. Go wherever you like. Here, take a waterskin and the berries. I’ll give you some blankets, and you can just go.”
She glanced at the tent and back again. Sleeping there would make her vulnerable… but would she be any more vulnerable than she had been sleeping in the woods?
The woods were dark and cold; here there was a warm tent and a fire and two armed men looking out for danger. Two men who had sworn up and down that she was safe with them and so far had been true to their word.
Two men who could find her just as easily in the woods. And she’d have to sleep sometime.
She let out a long breath, accepting that she couldn’t see any reason not to take the tent. Tor was right; if they wanted to hurt her, they could have done so many times already. And she was utterly exhausted.
