Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Prince Thorne crossed the threshold, the light of my chamber glinting off the golden hilt of the dagger strapped to his chest.

I didn’t think. I should have, but I simply reacted.

I threw the glass at the Prince of Vytrus.

In the brief seconds following the glass leaving my hand, I realized I’d had no idea of how reckless, how idiotic I truly was until that very moment.

The glass stopped in midair, several feet from the Prince.

I sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening.

“Na’laa,”Prince Thorne rumbled softly, the blue of his eyes a brilliant shade. The glass shattered into nothing— absolutely nothing. Not even tiny shards remained. It was simply obliterated.

I took an unsteady step back.

He smiled, and I shivered like any prey would upon realizing they’d not only come face-to-face with a honed predator but had taunted them. “You have a very good arm on you,” he said. “Though, I would’ve preferred to discover that in a way that didn’t involve an object being thrown at my head.”

My heart thumped so fast I feared I might be sick. “I . . . I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Really?” he drawled.

Swallowing, I nodded. “The glass slipped from my fingers.”

An eyebrow rose. “Slipped all the way across the room?”

“You startled me,” I argued, fully realizing how ridiculous my excuse was. “I wasn’t expecting someone to unlock the door and barge in. Though, I should have. You do have a habit of such.”

“You know very little of what habits I have.” One side of his lips tipped. “But I do know you have a habit of lying, which I do enjoy immensely.”

I stiffened. “I beg to differ. I know of at least two habits. Barging into places you’re not invited and insisting upon insulting my honor each time you see me.”

“How is it an insult to your honor when it’s truth?” he countered. “Perhaps you dishonor yourself by lying.”

My chest rose as anger lanced through me. “Why are you here, Your Grace?”

“We have an arrangement.”

“We do not, but that’s not the point. I have a headache.”

“Yes, one that is six feet and seven inches in shape?”

I gaped. “It was not I who said that.”

“I know. Those were Lord Bastian’s words.” He glanced around the room, gaze skipping over my shoes and the uncorked bottle of whiskey. “He always likes to shave an inch from my height so that I’m not taller than him.”

My brow creased; then I gave a small shake of my head. “Be that as it may, I still have a headache and I’m not feeling up to company this evening.”

Those swirling irises settled on me. “You and I both know that’s not the case.”

“How would you know?” I crossed my arms. “Are you telling me that you can be so tuned in to a person that you can sense if they have a headache?”

“No.” His laugh was low and soft, sending a chill up my spine. “I simply don’t believe you.”

“Well, that’s rude.”

“The truth is never rude, only unwanted.” His grin spread into a hint of a shadowy smile, causing the irritation to prick away at my skin. “You look like you wish to throw that whiskey bottle at me next.”

“That would be a waste of fine liquor,” I retorted.

“And much harder to claim it only slipped from your fingers.” He’d come closer in that silent way of his. “We have an arrangement. Are you going to honor it?”

“No.” I lifted my chin. “Because there is no arrangement for me to honor.”

“Figured.”

I stepped back an inch. That was as far as I made it. Prince Thorne was on me before I could take another breath. One of his arms went around my waist as he bent, and a second later I was hoisted up, onto his shoulder. For a moment, I was so shocked I could do nothing as I dangled there, my hair streaming over my face and the woodsy scent of his overwhelming me.

Then he turned.

“Oh, my gods,” I shrieked, grabbing a fistful of his tunic. “Put me down!”

“I would, but I have a feeling you’re going to want to argue.” Prince Thorne strode into the bedchamber, passing the bed. “And I prefer to do that while I’m close to the bed I plan to sleep in.”

“You can’t do this!” Fury erupted, erasing all common sense. I pounded my fists against his back, kicking my legs— completely forgetting what I was hitting. “Put me— ” I hissed as pain radiated across my balled fists and up my arms. “Fuck.”

“You should stop,” he said, amusement clear in his tone. “I really don’t want you to break your hands. We may have need of them later.”

“Oh my gods.” My eyes widened as the chamber door swung open. He was truly going to carry me to his quarters? He was out of his mind. “You can put me down.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t trust me?” I sputtered as my chamber doors closed behind us. “You’re going to make a scene.”

“It’s not me who is making a scene.” Prince Thorne’s head turned, his chin grazing my hip. “It is your shrieking that will wake anyone who has gone to bed and alarm those who have not yet done so.”

“I’m not shrieking!” I, well, shrieked. “I don’t prefer any of this.” I tried to lift myself off his shoulder, but his arm clamped down over my back. “This is ridiculous.”

“I know.”

Disbelief roared through me. “Then put me down or . . .”

“Or what?”

“I may vomit all over your back.”

Prince Thorne chuckled. “Please try not to do that, but if you do, it would be a good enough excuse for you to aid me in my bath.”

A growl of exasperation parted my lips as my gaze fell on the hilt of a short sword just above his right hip. I was lying across the sheathed blade. Once more, I was too angry to think about what I was doing. I lifted a hand, reaching for the hilt.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he warned.

I froze, fingers inches from the golden handle. Did he have eyes in the back of his head?

“Not unless you know how to wield it and plan to do so,” he tacked on.

“And if I did?”

“I would be rather impressed,” he remarked, and my brows shot up. “But I don’t imagine you have such knowledge.”

I could handle a dagger; Grady had taught me that much. But I knew a dagger and a sword were vastly different things, so I let out a frustrated, closed-mouth, and quiet scream as we passed through the darkened hallways.

“However, I also suspect that if you knew how to handle a sword, you wouldn’t hesitate to use it,” he surmised.

“You would be correct— ” I yelped as he bounced me. “That was highly unnecessary, Your Grace.”

“Thorne,” he corrected with a laugh. “I apologize. My shoulder . . . slipped.”

I saw red. “Oh, I’m sure it slipped, Thor.”

The Prince came to a complete stop. “I see I’m going to have to kill Bas.” He started walking again.

My lips parted as my already tumbling stomach dipped. “What?”

“He’s only half kidding,” another, whom I recognized as Lord Bastian himself, said. I lifted my head, catching only a glimpse of his chest and the opening doors of his quarters and the Lord who waited in the hall outside of them. “He’d miss me terribly if he killed me.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Prince Thorne warned.

Lord Bastian snorted as he stepped aside. “May I ask why you’re carrying your guest like a sack of potatoes?”

Warmth hit my cheeks, but before I could speak, Prince Thorne said, “She was proving to be rather difficult.”

“Must be that six-foot-six-inch headache of hers,” the Hyhborn lord remarked.

“Now I’ve lost two inches?” Prince Thorne muttered.

“I’m just stating facts.”

Frustration boiled over. “He’s kidnapping me, and you two are arguing over how much taller he is?”

“See.” Prince Thorne squeezed me. “Even she knows I’m taller.”

“Traitor,” Lord Bastian said with a sigh.

“That’s— ” I gasped as Prince Thorne gripped my hips and I was suddenly lowered to the floor. A lamp flickered on along the wall as I pulled free, putting several feet of distance between us.

“Before I take my leave,” Lord Bastian drawled. “Crystian has left for Augustine.”

Augustine? That was the capital.

“Good.”

“You know, the King will be displeased.”

The Prince looked over at him. “We both know that.”

“That we do,” Lord Bastian murmured, then glanced at me, his smile returning. “By the way, Crystian also wants to meet her.”

“I’m sure he does,” Prince Thorne muttered.

“Who is Crystian?” I asked.

“A pain in my ass.”

Lord Bastian laughed. “Well, don’t have too much fun tonight. Morning will come soon enough, and it will be an early one.”

The Prince nodded as the Lord angled his body toward me and bowed. My brow shot up. Grinning, the Lord straightened and then disappeared.

“He’s . . . different,” I murmured.

“That would be an understatement.” The Prince closed the door. Without touching it.

I swallowed. “You’re different.”

“That’s also an understatement, na’laa.”

Alone with the Prince, I shifted from one foot to the next. “So, why will the morning be an early one? Have you changed your mind and will be leaving to meet your armies at dawn?”

Prince Thorne chuckled. “Don’t fret. I will not be leaving you so soon. Tomorrow I will be meeting with those in Archwood to begin training those who are able and willing to defend their city.”

“Oh,” I whispered, clasping my hands together.

He glanced at me. “You seem unsettled by that.”

“I am. It’s not that I’ve forgotten what is to come. It’s just hearing that makes it more real. And I wasn’t fretting over your absence.” I glanced beyond him, to the doors. I bit down on my lip, inching to the side. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Don’t.”

My gaze flew back to him.

“I would warn against attempting to run,” he advised, walking past me.

“Because you will stop me?”

“Because I will give chase.” He unhooked the straps holding the short sword to his back as he crossed into the bedchamber. “And I will capture you.”

I tensed.

The Prince stopped in the bedchamber, angling his body toward me as he lowered the sword he’d withdrawn. “But perhaps that is what you’d want.” He tossed the sheathed sword onto a chest. “To run. For me to chase.”

An unwanted thrill hit my blood. It was yet further proof of something being very, drastically wrong with me. I swallowed, holding myself still. “I don’t want that.”

One side of his lips quirked up as he unhooked his baldric. “What do you want, na’laa?”

“Not this.”

His laugh was like dark smoke. “What do you think this is?”

“I think I’m to be your own personal cattle.”

A short laugh left him. “My what?”

“You want me so you can easily feed. You said so yourself— ”

“That is not the sole reason,” he cut in. “Your baron wanted a reason. I gave him one.”

“Then why?” I stopped myself. His reasons didn’t matter. “I didn’t agree to anything.”

He placed the weapons down, then kicked off his boots, apparently not having a small arsenal to unload this night. “That’s not how I recall it happening.”

“I’m sorry? That’s not how you recall it?” I stared at him in disbelief. “I’m sure I was quite clear.”

“Yes. You were quite clear.” His head tilted. “Just as you were quite clear when you came on my fingers— not once but twice.”

My mouth dropped open as heat flooded my cheeks and lower, deep inside me, where my body clearly knew no shame.

His nostrils flared, his eyes becoming luminous even in the distance, and I knew he sensed that curl of desire.

I gritted my teeth. “I’m not sure what that has to do with this arrangement you insist upon.”

“It has everything to do with it.” He disappeared for a moment, then reappeared, carrying a bottle of liquor and two glasses.

The breath I took went nowhere as I watched him stop by the table and pour two glasses. “Then if that is the case, there are many within this manor and city who would be willing to take my place.”

He glanced over his shoulder at me. “But would any of them throw a glass at me?”

I drew a short breath through my nose. “Likely not, which should relieve you.”

“But it doesn’t.”

I blinked, unsure of what to say to that, because he wanted blunt objects thrown at his head? Which meant Claude had been right about that.

“And I also know that none of them would remind me of cherries or taste as good on my fingers,” he continued, offering the half-filled glass. “Nor are any of them a mystery to me.”

“There’s nothing about me that is a mystery.” I stared at the glass, then snatched it from him.

Prince Thorne eyed me, his stare so intense it was hard to stand still. “Why are you so against this arrangement?” His brows knitted as I took a drink of what turned out to be some sort of dark wine. “Please do not tell me you have feelings for your baron.”

That I hadn’t been expecting. “And what if I did?”

His jaw hardened. “Then your feelings would be wasted on a man who is clearly not worthy of them.”

Thrown by his statement, it took me a moment to respond. “You don’t know the Baron well enough to decide that.”

“I do know the only reason he lives is because you sat in his lap and I’d rather not see you covered in his blood.”

My chest turned cold. “Because he spoke of cutting off your arm? He was only kidding— albeit stupidly, but he wasn’t being serious.”

“I’m not talking about that.” He took a sip. “Though, I do agree that was stupid.”

“Then what?”

“He was touching you,” he answered. “I didn’t like it.”

“What? Are you saying you were jealous?”

“Yes.”

My laugh shattered the silence that followed. “You cannot be serious.”

Slowly churning eyes met mine. “Do I appear as if I am teasing?”

No, he did not. I gaped at him. “Why in the world would you be jealous?”

“I don’t know.” He brushed a strand of hair back behind his ear. “Not knowing has become quite commonplace when you’re concerned. I’m not sure if it annoys me or excites me.”

“Well, it confuses me.”

“Your reluctance in this confuses me.”

“Truly?” As he stared back at me, I could see that he spoke the truth. “You really don’t get it? Like it doesn’t even occur to you that demanding something like this from another would anger them?”

“If you and I had not known one another? If I didn’t know how much you enjoyed my touch? Then yes, I could understand someone’s anger, but that’s not the case between us.”

“Just because we know each other and I’ve enjoyed your touch doesn’t mean I don’t want to be asked, nor that I would continue to enjoy such things.”

“But I know you want my touch,” he countered. “Just a few minutes ago, your pulse rose in arousal— ”

“Oh my gods.” I lowered my glass to the table to prevent myself from throwing it. “I can’t believe I’m even having to explain what should be taught at birth— ”

“But I was not born,” he interrupted, brows furrowed.

“That shouldn’t mean . . .” I trailed off, staring at him. My lips parted as what he’d said earlier that day in my chambers struck me— the lack of humanity. A lot of things fell under that, going beyond just caring for another. Being understanding did. Thoughtful. Considerate. Without humanity, there was just . . . “Logic.”

“Logic?” he repeated.

I shook my head. “Deminyens operate on logic and not emotion?”

He seemed to think that over. “That would be somewhat accurate.”

But logic was cold, and he wasn’t that. “Last night you asked me to join you in the tub. You didn’t just assume that is what I wanted.”

“I knew that was what you wanted,” he said, and my eyes narrowed. “But I sensed your nervousness— the skip in your breath was part uncertainty and part arousal.”

“Can we just stop saying ‘arousal’ for the rest of our lives?”

“Why?” The blue of his eyes lightened. “Because the truth of how you feel around me bothers you?”

“Maybe— oh, I don’t know— I don’t need you pointing it out every five seconds?”

His chin dipped. “So you do acknowledge that you are aroused by me.”

I opened my mouth.

“I have this distinct feeling you’re going to lie,” he said, a hint of smile playing across his lips. “And claim that you will not enjoy your time with me.”

“Whether or not I will doesn’t matter. You should always ask.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why when we both already know what is wanted?”

Blowing out an aggravated breath, I desperately clung to my waning patience. “Because you shouldn’t assume that will never change. It can. It can change at any second for various reasons.”

“Hmm.” The sound hummed from him as his gaze flicked over me. “I suppose then I must endeavor to ensure that doesn’t change.”

My lips pursed. “That wasn’t the point I was getting at.”

“It’s not?”

I sighed, twisting the laces on the gown. “I feel like we’re speaking two different languages.”

That half grin appeared as he finished off his wine. “So, na’laa, would you like to join me this evening and upon my return?”

I glared at him.

“What?” Somehow he was closer, less than a foot from me. “I’m doing as you requested. I’m asking.”

“And why are you asking now?”

“Because it is important to you that I do so.”

Surprised, I felt my eyes widen slightly. “Yeah, well, it’s a little too late for that since you’ve kidnapped me.”

Prince Thorne chuckled. “You are not kidnapped nor captive. If you wish to leave . . .” he said, lifting a hand. His fingers closed over mine. I looked down, momentarily consumed by the fact that our hands were touching, and I felt . . . I heard and felt nothing that wasn’t my own. He stilled my fingers, drawing my gaze back to his. “I will not stop you, Calista. I am not . . .” A slight frown appeared.

“You’re not what? Like other Hyhborn?”

That pinch of confusion that had etched into his features earlier that day, when he’d been in my chambers, reappeared. He inclined his head. “What are other Hyhborn like?”

“Is that . . . is that a serious question?”

“It is,” he said. “What do you think of my kind?”

I opened my mouth, then wisely closed it.

He studied me. “It’s clear you have thoughts on this. Share them.”

For the thousandth time in my life, I wished my face didn’t show what I was thinking. “I . . . I don’t know any Hyhborn well. Actually, you are the only Hyhborn that I’ve spent any amount of time with, but from what I know? What I’ve seen? The Hyhborn don’t seem to really care about us, despite claiming to be our protectors. I mean, the Feasts are a perfect example of this.”

He drew his thumb along the top of my hand. “What about them?”

“The Feasts have always seemed more a celebration of the Hyhborn than of the lowborn.”

“And why do you think that?” He grinned at my silence. “Do not be shy now, na’laa.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“But I’m intrigued to know what you think, and you are being stubborn, which is so— ”

“Yes. I know. Fitting.” I sighed heavily. “If King Euros and all the Deminyens wanted to prove their commitment to being our protectors, why only do it a few days out of a year? Why not do it every day? It’s not like— ” I stopped myself then, thinking that I probably should listen to the advice I’d given to Grady and shut my mouth. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” His thumb had stilled along my hand. “It’s not like what?”

I shook my head. “It’s not like . . . we’re only starving a few days a year. Clearly, the Hyhborn Courts have enough food to share. Making sure as many mouths as possible don’t go hungry throughout the year would be a better way of showing us that the Hyhborn are truly our protectors.”

“And what do you know about starving?” he asked quietly.

His tone caught me off guard. It wasn’t a challenge, but a genuine question, and it had me answering honestly. “I . . . I grew up without a home— ”

“You were an orphan?” His voice had sharpened.

My heart turned over heavily as I held his stare, waiting for him to realize that we’d met before, waiting for me to even understand why my intuition was hesitant to tell him that we had.

“I was just one of many. Too many that never make it to adulthood,” I said when no realization came from either of us. “I know what it’s like to go to bed and wake up hungry, day after day, night after night, while some people have more food than they could ever hope to consume. Food they just throw away.”

Prince Thorne was silent for several moments. “I’m sorry to hear that, Calista.”

Uncomfortable with the sincerity in his voice and the sound of my name, I looked away as I nodded. “Anyway, I can think of better ways for the King to show his love of his people, be they Hyhborn or lowborn.”

“You sound like Beylen.”

My gaze snapped back to his, thoughts immediately going to what Claude had shared. “You know him?”

“I know he has said the same or very similar things,” he said, not really answering my question. “You have never been to any of the Courts, correct?”

“Nope. Never had the honor.”

His thumb began to move again, sliding slowly over the top of my hand. “Most would not find it to be an honor.”

My brows rose. He’d given the impression that there was violence in his Court, but what he was saying now felt different. “What do you mean?”

“I know what the Courts look like from a distance. Decadent opulence from the rooftops to the streets, all glitter and gold,” he said. “But as with most things that are beautiful on the outside, there is nothing but ruin and wrath on the inside.”

A shiver curled its way down my spine.

“But you speak the truth. The King could do more. All of us could and should have. I imagine we would not face these issues with the Iron Knights if we’d gone about things differently.”

“It’s strange,” I said after a moment. “And rather . . . nice.”

“What is?”

“To be in agreement.”

Prince Thorne laughed then. “I can think of other things we can be in agreement about that are far better than just nice.”

“And then you ruined it.”

Another laugh rumbled from him, and I felt my lips twitching. His laugh was almost as infectious as Naomi’s, and that caused my heart to give an unsteady leap.

The sound faded, though, as did his smile. “I don’t know how much I am like the others, but I know how I am not. I will not make you do what you truly do not want to do.”

He released my hand then, but his touch lingered, warming my skin as I stepped back. Doubt filled me, even as he made no move, even as I made no move. I glanced at the door, pressing my lips together. I hesitated, searching for a reason to linger, and I found one. “Lord Bastian mentioned that the King will be displeased.” I faced him. “What for?”

A smile appeared, but it was brief. “My decision regarding Archwood.”

“I don’t understand.” I frowned. “You’re planning to defend Archwood. . . .” I trailed off as his words from supper returned. We’ve come to determine what course of action . . . “Unless that was just an option. A choice to decide if we were worth saving or . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“Or not.” The Prince had no trouble saying it. “Destroying Archwood was an option. Primvera would be abandoned and new ports along the Eastern Canal would be established. And that is what the King prefers.”