Page 40 of Ravenrose

Very aware that he’s interrupted something, Theo’s eyes dart between us, taking in the knife in my hand—and the look on my face—before clearing his throat. “Well, I’m gonna go. I’ve got princing to do and all that.”

The princess glares at him in my periphery, her eyes narrowing to thin slits.

“You two play nice now, you hear?” Theo gives both of us a playful wink before throwing back the tent flaps and strutting through them, gone just as quickly as he appeared.

Frustrated, I release a sigh, turning my attention back to the princess. Resolve hardens my jaw, and I turn quickly, determined to get this over with.

She flinches, and I freeze.

The abrupt movement sends her reeling back against the pole.

My dark eyes lock once again with evergreen, but the princess’ attention quickly falls to the knife in my hand.

“Hey,” I call out, wanting her attention back on me, but her gaze doesn’t waver, firmly fixed on the glinting silver of my blade, the tip already stained red with her blood. That steely resolve and absence of fear appear to have faltered slightly with the interruption.

“Princess,” I say, softer this time, trying again to pull her attention to me. I lift the knife up, toward my face, watching as her eyes trail up with it.

“Eyes on me.”

Her eyes lift to mine as my words register, bitter hatred simmering to a boil.

And she’s back.

“I’m going to remove that.” I point to the cloth digging into the corners of her mouth, the one keeping her silent.

She jerks her head back as far as she can, but the pole at her back limits her movement.

The corner of my mouth twitches. She’s smart. While I’m sure she wants nothing more than to have her mouth free, she doesn’t trust a word I say. And for good reason. I can’t exactly blame her for not wanting my blade anywhere near her face.

“You need to stay still for a second,” I tell her, still not taking any steps closer, keeping my feet firmly planted where they are.

Her defiance wanes, just for a second, but long enough for me to see past it.

Exhaustion.

It clings to her; I can see it in her eyes, in the weak tug she gives her restraints, as though she already knows the effort is futile. And in the way her shoulders slump when the iron wins again. Fatigue has worn her down. It clouds her mind, fogging up her bravery with paranoia and fear.

Her gaze drifts, just for a moment, to the pallet of furs at her side.

The movement is fleeting.

The meaning is not.

I know exactly where her thoughts just went. Exactly what she fears will happen once I unchain her.

“Hey,” I say again, impatience sneaking into my voice while I force myself to hang back a little longer. I so do not have time for this. I flip the knife in my grip—a habit.

She flinches, shying back from it almost immediately.

Godsdamnit.

She’s angry with herself—at her reaction. It’s written all over her face; she’s simply too tired to hide it anymore.

“Eyes on me,” I remind her, my tone commanding as I start toward her, watching her track me until I’m once again at her throat.

She’s shaking.

Her eyes slam shut when the cold steel of my blade brushes her cheek as it slips beneath the dirty cloth. With one quick flick of my wrist, I sever it clean through. The princess’ eyes open slowly, watching me as I pull the cloth from her mouth. I give her a hard look before circling around to her back. She stiffens again, uncomfortable with me out of sight.