Across the salon, Yago sat with Taweel andthe Jackal, the bruising below his left eye visible even fromtwenty paces as he glared at Aleksi who shook his head and tuckedinto his breakfast, the last hot food he would eat for the nextseveral days.As he ate, he kept a wary eye out for Anastasia, whofinally showed up as he was folding pieces of egg and fish forKiska into a square of linen.He stood and made his way over to hertable and took the open seat between her and the rich, corpulent,balding prince she had apparently decided would make a desirablesecond husband.
“Sister,” Aleksi said as he spread hisshoulders, causing the prince to scoot his seat farther over.
“Bastard half-brother.”
“I have been informed by King Asad that ourfather is ill.Why did you not tell me yourself?”
“I was not required to by my father.In fact,quite the opposite.”
“He told you not to tell me?Why?”
“It is a matter for the royal family, ofwhich you are not a member.”
“I may not be a royal,” Aleksi ground out,“but he is my father.I have a right to know.How ill is he?”
“Not very.It is actually more of a minorinconvenience than an illness,” she said.“Certainly nothing youneed concern yourself with.”
“You had better not be lying to me.”
“How dare you call Princess Anastasia aliar,” her prospective second husband-to-be defended her, hisdouble chin jiggling like congealed suet.
Aleksandr stood and towered over the prince.“I dare because I know her to be a lying bitch,” he growled.Helooked to Anastasia.“It is her defining characteristic.”
The prince went bug-eyed and apoplectic, butAnastasia simply shrugged.
“What if I am lying to you, my bastardhalf-brother?”she said.“What can the likes of you do about it?”She laughed, high and shrill.“Nothing.”
Sahar sat astride Lasair, the butterflies inher belly flitting about as the riders maneuvered for position inthe starting line.She was not surprised when Munir posted hisgelding, Kedar, next to Lasair, but she was taken aback by the twoshort swords strapped across Munir’s back and the lacquered vestand arm guards he wore, as well as two waist blades.
“You are dressed more for battle than a horserace, cousin,” Sahar said, using the endearment he had earned witha lifetime of friendship and would soon inherit through marriage toHalah.“Are you expecting trouble?”
“Always.”Munir adjusted the straps holdingthe short swords.“It is what I have trained for.”
“It will slow you down.”
Munir shrugged.“Perhaps.”
He rode not to win, but to protect her, andshe could rage and rail all she wanted about not needing hisprotection.It wouldn’t change anything.She didn’t blame Munir.She was certain her father had requested, if not outright orderedhis guardsman to watch over her.
“Princess,” a low, resonant voice ran downher spine as Zolotoy’s golden head stopped even with Lasair’s onher other side.“Munir.”
“Aleksi.”Munir returned Aleksandr’sgreeting, raising her brows at the familiar name, something she hadonly heard his friends Serge or Pyotr address him by.“It seems Iam not the only one ready for trouble.”
She eyed Aleksandr, who wore a short swordstrapped across his back, and two waist blades, his forearmscovered by leather guards.She followed the line of his leatherriding breeches down long, thickly muscled thighs and calves to hisboots, where the hilt of a small dagger poked out of the top of hisright boot.
“Better to be found ready than caughtunawares,” Aleksandr said with his usual cocky grin.
“Wear all the weaponry you like,” she said,trying and failing to ignore the cursed shock of hair falling downover his forehead.“Add a stone or two to your saddle bags as wellfor all I care.”
“Are you worried we will not be able to keepup with you and Lasair?”he asked with a mock frown.
“Worried?”she chuffed.“No.”
Aleksandr’s eyes narrowed to a spot over hershoulder, and she turned to see Yago riding up alongside Taweel andthe Jackal, the three of them as heavily armed as Aleksandr andMunir.She fingered the bone hilt of her solitary waist blade, andregretted not listening to her father and arming herself withmore.
“Here.”Aleksandr pulled the dagger from hisboot and held it out to her.“This doesn’t mean we’re betrothed orany such thing.”
She laughed despite herself as she slid thedagger down the inside of her boot.“I suppose you expect me toswear not to use your blade on you,” she said.
