The halls of the palace stretched long and winding, echoing with the quiet click of our shoes against the polished floor. Lanterns hung overhead, casting soft, ethereal light along the arched ceilings, their glow pulsing gently with each step we took. They must have been kept alit by glyphs, like so much else.
The fierce eyes of the intricate carvings of mythical creatures seemed to follow us as we went past the tapestries lining the walls.
I glanced sidelong at Blake.
His eyes met mine and he said softly, “I didn’t recognize you when you walked in.”
My temper flared even as my stomach fluttered with butterflies. “What, I can’t look nice?”
He sighed. “Never mind, I definitely know it’s you.” He gave a little cough and straightened. “I just wanted to say that you look…you look…”
I stopped and he did, too. I cocked my head, waiting.
“Adequate.” He rubbed his neck with his hand.
Adequate? That’s what he had to say?! After all he’d put me through. Locking me up. Throwing me into the Arena. Burning our hut. I thought of Edith’s grief-stricken face and folded my arms across my chest as I glared at him. “I hardly had anything else to wear, given that your men burned all of our possessions.”
His nostrils flared. “They weren’t supposed to. But how could you mourn that pile of sticks you called a home? Your belongings will be replaced with far better.”
“They killed Rainbow.”
Blake’s brows pulled together. “Who in rust’s name is Rainbow?”
“Our chicken.”
Blake blinked. Twice. Then he dragged a hand down his face. “That’s what you’re angry about? She was a chicken!”
“She was a friend.” And her death had made Edith cry.
He exhaled hard and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was holding back the world’s worst headache. “Then I apologize. I didn’t tell them to go that far, and once I heard about it, I sent for your friend Edith. But everything my men do is my responsibility.”
At his unexpected capitulation, I took a breath. My fingers drifted to the ribbons at my belt, the ribbons he had found, repaired, and returned to me. I softened and asked him the question that had been gnawing at me. “Why did you help me in the throne room?”
He turned to look at me, then around us, as if he was checking for someone listening.
“You lied for—”
Shoving me into an alcove and stepping to completely cover me with the massive bulk of his body, he dropped his face toward mine.
“You are the most foolish person I have ever met,” he whispered harshly. “Rash, impulsive, foolhardy. You don’t seem to have the ability to plan, and I don’t anticipate you will survive long.”
I glared back at him.
His bronze hair was a little too long, falling into his arctic blue eyes that caught the light of a lantern above us. His mouth was full and tempting, despite being twisted down into that infuriating, disapproving frown.
“Oh, please do go on,” I snapped, crossing my arms. He was so close I brushed his chest plate with the movement.
“You are idiotically brave,” he said. More of a condemnation than a compliment. “You could make a fitting Tyger Warrior—if you would listen, train, and obey. And if you were taller—”
“Right,” I said dryly. “I’ll work on the taller thing right away.”
Blake gave a slow shake of his head. “You are so reckless.”
“But I’m still alive.”
His nostrils flared. “And how is it that you performed that intricate curtsy? I don’t know if I’ve ever actually seen it done before. It is taught only to royalty and the highest nobility. How did you come to learn it?”
I gave him no answer. Mostly because I didn’t know—though if I did, I’d hesitate to tell him. I hadn’t had the time to think it all through. I’d only wanted to survive, and my body just…reacted.
