Chapter 17 #2
She sighed sharply in the quiet of the tent. The princess was asleep, or at least pretending to still be, so Soren quickly dressed and crept out of the tent. The air was even colder this season, and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she walked through the quiet camp.
Vane wasn’t there yet when she arrived in their usual spot, so she started her strengthening circuit, eager to get it over with. She was nearly finished when Vane’s voice caused her to jump.
“You’re still weak.”
She looked up. He was towering over her, wearing the same leather armor he always did, his hair carelessly tucked back and held by a slim dagger, of all things. But there was something off about him. Shadows circled his eyes, and he was favoring his right leg.
“Did you sleep at all?” she blurted before she could think too much about what she was saying.
His pierced brow raised, and slowly, he tilted his head. She swore the irises of his dark eyes lightened in strange fractures, but she was probably just imagining it.
“You’re too observant for your own good,” he said, crouching beside her. “It’s going to get you in trouble. I’m surprised it already hasn’t.”
She looked away. “You’re injured. Is that why you showed up late today?”
“Miss me? It was only an hour.”
“Vane.”
He froze as she said it, and her lips parted as their gazes clashed.
The heavy way he was looking at her didn’t make any sense.
Beyond her bond with Thessa, she was nothing and no one.
There were probably thousands of displaced Misean slaves just like her within Aren’s borders.
Wasn’t he the one who had just said she was weak?
“Finish the exercises.” His voice felt like a caress. “You need to be as strong as possible before you face what’s out there.”
She searched his features, trying to find an explanation for what she had remembered, perhaps even an explanation for the way he was acting around her now. There was no mistaking it now, the agony in his dark eyes as they drank her in.
Perhaps pushing him was a mistake, but…
“And what is out there on the front? That’s where you were, wasn’t it?”
His jaw tightened. Their faces were still inches apart. “And how would I get all the way to the border and back in a matter of hours?”
“Dragonback would be a good way,” she whispered.
“I’m not a rider—”
“And I thought I was bad at lying.”
His gaze dipped to her mouth, and her mind chose to remind her of this morning, when she had woken up aching for him. But was it him, or some long ago near-copy from his bloodline? The mix of desire and confusion was dizzying.
“Stop thinking so hard, Soren,” he commanded softly. “And pay attention.”
She narrowed her eyes, forcing herself to put some distance between them. “To what? And are you going to answer my question?”
Vane rolled up to his feet and chuckled, though the laugh sounded strained. “I wasn’t aware you asked me one, darling.”
She shot up to her feet, and before she could think twice, reared her hand back. Before she could strike him, he caught her wrist, the strength of his grip vice-like. She fought him, straining her arm, but it didn’t budge in his hold.
“Some personality,” he said, lip curling. “How refreshing.”
“Stop lying.”
“Start moving,” he ordered instead, dropping her wrist. “Then maybe you’ll earn some answers.”
She let out a puff of air. Around him, it felt like she was unfurling slowly.
It was as if there was another person entirely beneath the bowing servant she had been forced to become.
Vane stripped her of that. She needed to be anything but weak if she was going to survive this, but around him, she was both vulnerable and vicious.
Frustration fueled the rest of her exercises and the following run around camp, during which he was always a few paces behind her. Eyes trailed them as they wove between tents and around the perimeter. Soren avoided their eyes, trying to ignore the obvious judgement.
“Does it bother you?” Vane asked, easily catching up with her. “The staring?”
She swallowed, her throat dry and raw. “I’m not used to being seen.”
“A secret for you,” he said, slowing as they approached the field where Thessa waited. “Don’t ever let them see you. Not truly.”
Her voice was quiet as she replied, “I never have. Now, will you tell me where you’re hiding your dragon?”
He clicked his tongue. “As I said. Observant.”
“Stop avoiding the question.”
“You want answers I cannot give.”
He turned and approached Thessa, who was ‘sleeping,’ though Soren could practically feel her listening. The damned dragon had heard every word of their conversation.
He lifted a hand, and the corner of his mouth twitched as he brushed his fingers over the dragon’s side. For the breath of a moment, he looked lighter, almost happy, but the small hint of a smile on his face fell quickly, and he turned back to Soren.
His expression shifted almost immediately when he looked at her. She hadn’t noticed the mask he slipped over his features when with her, not until now, after seeing it fall so fully for a few seconds. She wondered if he was aware how many cracks were in it.
“Get on the saddle,” he said, looking at Thessa.
“Then what?”
This time, his smirk was mirthless. “I want you to try and kill me, Soren.”