She yanks at her long, thick blond braid and stares at me with pale blue eyes. “Do they?”
“No. No, they don’t, Lil. I’m afraid we’re caught up in some plot of kings and sorcerers, through no fault of our own.”
The door opens again, and Sergeant Neville enters, his face grave. There’s a young guard with him, and this one’s reddish-brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles make him look as young as Lil.
When she catches sight of him, she jumps up and cries out. The guard—with a quick glance at Neville, who nods—crosses the room and puts an arm around her.
“Oh, Bern, why am I here? Is it because we—” The guard, who I’d bet ten silver pieces has been saving for a cottage, presses a kiss to her lips before she can finish her sentence. “Why did that man hurt Soli?” She’s sobbing again, and the guard does his best to comfort and shush her at the same time.
All eyes turn to me, and I swallow hard. “I’m fine. He—”
“You’re not fine,” Neville growls, his eyes on my mouth.
I touch my lip and flinch. When I bring my hand away, my fingers are stained red. “I’m well enough. A friend of Flack’s had a … message … for me.”
Neville whips a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Should we call the healers?”
“No. I just want to go home.” I realize I just called the libraryhome, but compared to this, my pallet would feel like a warm hug. Maybe I can even get there in time to scavenge a few bites of what’s left of dinner.
“There’s no going home, lass. It’s time,” he says heavily. The sorrow in his eyes sends an icy spike of terror down my spine. “The king wants you in the throne room. Now. He’s having the Amulet of Artemisen brought to him.”
Lil wraps her arms around herself and shivers. “But isn’t that the gemstone that’s supposed to unlock the goddess’s crystal tomb? The gem that sets people on fire if they touch it?”
I, who have read every Cycle of the Oracles, feel the room spin around me and hear my voice as if it’s coming from far, far away.
“Yes, Lil. That’s the one.”
Of all the ways I never want to die, burning alive just soared to the top of the list.
Guards line the perimeter of the cavernous room, and Prince Kaelen stands a few paces in front of the throne, his face set in grim lines. When his gaze snaps to mine, I dare to nod a hello. His eyes widen as he takes in my appearance. He’s probably shocked to see me clean.
Cleaner.
My waist-length hair at least looks red now, instead of dirt-gray, and the single braid near my face shines purple. My blue eyes are the same, but my skin, while still desperately pale, is at least clean.
But his body language changes. One moment, he’s all graceful elegance. The next, every muscle in his body tenses, beginning with those in his jaw. His purple eyes flare hot, and I realize his gaze is locked on my mouth. He straightens so quickly, hand on the ceremonial sword sheathed at his side, that I freeze like the prey I swore to myself I wouldn’t be. Because I instantly know with completecertainty that there’s a deadly predator in this room, and he’s heading straight toward me.
In three fast strides, Kaelen is so close I can feel his breath on my face.
“Who hurt you?” His voice is a low growl, shocking me. Where is this protectiveness coming from?
He stands so close to me that I’m forced to inhale his deliciously subtle scent of sandalwood and cedar.
Forced.I scoff inside the privacy of my broken mind.Oh, no, don’t force me to smell this delightful aroma on my way to a horrible death.
Sergeant Neville, with a speculative look on his face, bows to the prince. “A friend of the horse’s ass who …fellinto the candles, my lord. Believe me, he’s being dealt with.”
Kaelen turns that flashing purple gaze away from me to the sergeant, and I inexplicably feel a sense of loss. “Bad form, sergeant,” he snaps.
Sergeant Neville tightens his lips but nods. “You’re not wrong. He’ll pay for it.”
“I’m fine. Thanks for your concern,” I say, daring to touch his arm.
Kaelen stares at my hand, and I flush, trying to yank it back. But he wraps his fingers around my wrist with steady pressure, preventing me from moving.
“What iswrongwith you?” I hiss, uncaring of the protocol.
A dull flush rises in his cheeks. “I wish I knew,” he mutters, releasing me.
