I can’t help it. I smile. Meredy nudges my side a moment later, and I glance back. She’s put the bag of coffee beans on the floor between us. When we both reach in at the same time, the back of my hand brushes hers, and a shiver runs up my arm. It startles my heart into beating double.
Her fingers curl around mine for a moment, warm and steady, before she jerks her hand away as though she’s been stung. Shaking her head as though to clear it, she seems to recover herself.
“Here.” Meredy’s lips twitch as she holds up a coffee bean. “Catch!”
I open my mouth, but the bean hits me on the nose and skitters out of sight. Meredy tries to disguise her derisive snort as acough, making me hot all over. “Oh, like you can do better,” I growl, reaching into the bag.
I throw three beans at once, and the last one lands on her outstretched tongue.
“You’ve probably been practicing,” I mutter, trying not to look impressed. “Let me try again.”
“Certainly.” Meredy’s eyes gleam. “I’ll go easy on you. One at a time.”
The first one hits my forehead. The second lands in my hair. The third sails over my head. Meredy’s tosses are terrible. After the fifth attempt, she stops.
“Try again! The wagon keeps hitting bumps.” I frown. “It’s throwing off your aim.”
“The wagon was rattling when I caught mine, too,” Meredy says evenly, with no hint of a smirk in her voice or otherwise. “Some things are out of your control. Like the path of the wagon and who’s riding in it with you. Find a way to accept it, or give up.”
“You’re one to talk.” I lean toward her, wincing as the wagon wheels bang against a loose rock. “You act likeyouhave everything under control, but you don’t, and it drives you mad.”
She purses her lips, then folds her hands neatly in her lap. Every small action she makes seems so carefully planned.
“Youdrive me mad,” she says quietly. Blushing, she adds quickly, louder, “At least I’m in control of my own actions. At least I’m not so caught up in my own problems that I fail to see what’s going on around me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes, thanks. Now toss me another coffee bean.”
Meredy tilts her head, frowning as she grabs the coffee bag. “Are you always this stubborn?”
“Since the day I was born.” I cross my arms. “So get used to it or go back to Grenwyr.”
Her eyes shining like hard stones, she says, “Evander must’ve really loved you to put up with this every day.”
My fist seems to have a mind of its own as it crashes into the wagon siding near Meredy’s perfect face. She’s breathing hard, her eyes closed in the aftermath of the blow. Maybe she thought I was actually aiming to hit her.
“Don’t talk to me about him,” I growl.
“Is everything all right back there?” Master Cymbre shouts.
“Fine!” Meredy and I answer at the same time, gazing steadily at one another. Our breathing is hot and rapid and almost stifling in the confines of the wagon’s hold. The dampness of her breath collects on my lips, and I impatiently lick it away.
Glaring at her, I wish she’d take a swing back at me. “Look, we might as well be honest. For some strange, twisted reason, you don’t like me because I loved your brother.”
“That’s not it.” Meredy scowls back, but her hands remain folded in her lap. “What I don’t like is that you’re so selfish you don’t notice anyone’s pain but your own.” When she speaks again, her voice is softer, more controlled. “But because it’s what my brother would’ve wanted, I’m going to stay with you and guard you until the danger has passed. Then we can go our separate ways.”
“What are you talking about, anyone’s pain but mine?”
“Valoria really likes your necromancer friend Jax, but she’s afraid you do, too. So she doesn’t say anything to him, because she’s more afraid of making you unhappy than she is of forever being unhappy herself.” Meredy shakes her head, and a sudden wave of shame pummels me. “Or Master Cymbre. I bet you have no idea she’s been drinking from a flask whenever she thinks no one’s looking. You two aren’t that different. And you certainly haven’t bothered to notice—” She pauses, biting her lip. “Forget it. Really. I’m raving.”
I take a long look at her. Unshed tears cling to the corners of her eyes like dewdrops. If I’m barely keeping a grip on my sanity, it’s a wonder she has any wits left about her after losing both Evander and Firiel. I should probably ask how she’s holding up.
Before I can get the words out, her long, cold fingers touch my shoulder. “There’s something else I need to tell you. It’s about Prince Hadrien. Something he said in the throne room has been bothering me.” I still don’t say anything, but she’s got my attention. “He said King Wylding went to the kitchen for a honey cake just after we passed each other. But I was in the kitchen for well over an hour, eating and making breakfast for Lysander, and the king never arrived. There was some sort of commotion in the hall, though.”
“You didn’t go see what it was?”
Meredy frowns. “I had my hands in a bowl of fish guts, and the cooks were busy preparing breakfast for the rest of the palace, but I definitely heard shouting.”
“Maybe a server burned themselves while carrying a hot dish.” I shrug.
