She kicked the mount. People scattered.
Prince Balak shouted, “‘Can't’ isn't in my vocabulary, my dear Queen! I'll see you on the battlefield!”
The threat had teeth. Akerami wasn't an ally, but she might just have made them an enemy.
Chapter 29
Castien
Night had fallen. They huddled in the tall grasses, blending in with pale green and yellow cloaks. The air was cold. His hands were cold, and the chill seeped into his chest.
Vern and Jerome had fought and killed a few guards, then slipped through the guardhouse during Anais’ distraction. She’d stormed through the gates moments after them. The gold draped all over her horse had drawn his gaze, and he'd glimpsed her green eyes for just a moment.
Their mounts waited down the road, disguised as a merchant’s wares. Vern paid the man, and they took off after Anais. How the smuggler intended to avoid the soldiers chasing after him wasn't their problem.
They had ridden through the grass, ducking through a few copses of trees. A faint whisper of warmth curled in his chest when a familiar streak of grey fur joined them. Finally, hours later, they lost pursuit in a town.
The Queen had used his trance words twice more. He fell deeper into the cold every time. He could see and remember, but he couldn't act. He had no control over his own body.
He couldn't keep doing this.
The hazy edges of the trance had faded by the time they camped. He sat on the ground, slowly chewing bread. Vern secured the horses. A few feet away, Jerome checked his splint.The wolf watched him from across the circle, her unblinking eyes glowing in the firelight.
Castien's fist opened and closed, opened and closed.
“Castien. Are you alright?”
He dropped his hand. His legs stretched out instead. If he didn't look at her… but how could he not look at her?
Leaning back, he met the forest green eyes that soothed his soul. She walked slowly, as if approaching a wild animal.
He broke her gaze. But she had seen his eyes, and it was so damned hard to keep pretending. He never did perform well when his heart wasn’t in it.
She was getting closer. He had to stop her.
“Don't. I don't want to hurt you,” he rasped.
The release of her breath sounded like relief. He rolled his right foot, then the left. His entire body ached.
She spoke from a few feet away. “Do you think you will? Are you going to kick me if I come too close?”
She sounded curious more than cautious, amused more than serious. He growled. He hadn't been able to stop himself from pouring the poison into her cup. He hadn't been able to stop himself from opening the throats of two rose guards. He hadn't been able to stab the Nadraken guards that had chased after her.
He shook his head. “I don't know. This isn't a spar. I have no idea what I'll do, no idea if I'll be able to control myself.”
What else was buried in his consciousness, just waiting to lash out?
She paused, then. Finally.
Whether out of caution or respect, she sat beside the wolf, perhaps five feet away. Five feet lay between them. He could throw himself at her. Throw himself at her feet and… what? Beg her to stay away? He chuckled darkly.
She unwrapped a parcel of rations and took a sip from a waterskin. Swallowing a bite, she said, “You’re hardly the onlyone who’s ever tried to kill me. You’re not even the only Escort who’s tried to kill me.”
He stopped stretching. “Who?”
He had the strangest urge to kill them.
She drank again. “It's not my story to tell.”
