Chapter 7
Lilias
THRUST, PARRY, RIPOSTE
He must be someone important, the man in black who just entered the procession as if he belongs here.
The guards don’t seem concerned, and he knows how to handle his horse.
He falls in next to me. In response, the guard who spent the night outside my tent pulls his horse up ahead, until he’s riding beside Anura.
The man in black smiles at me.
He has a face like a mask, with high cheekbones and dark eyes that make me think of those bedtime stories about elves who lure young women into the forest. Something flutters uncomfortably in my gut, a strange little whisper that makes me remember the jousting lessons I took as a girl. I feel like he’s about to draw a blade.
“Welcome to Vsenrog,” the man says, almost in a whisper.
And then his eyes fall to my chest. Of course. I swallow the impulse to roll my eyes, and give him a tight, silent smile instead.
“I trust your journey was as pleasant as possible, given the circumstances?” he continues in that low voice.
I have no idea what circumstances he’s referring to. Traveling with Vsenrog soldiers? Riding through the night to make sure I arrive in time to marry a man I’ve never met?
Thrust, parry, and riposte, my mind whispers. Sword fighting is not so different from polite conversation, after all.
“It was lovely,” I reply.
He smiles. His gaze snags on my chest a second time. It makes me think of Blayne and how I unlaced my bodice before I begged him to teach me how to kiss, but that memory is sour in the shadows of Vsenrog’s city walls.
“I hear Marion is lovely,” the man says. “Their horses are famous.”
I don’t reply. Perhaps he’s trying to impress me by showing he’s capable of reading simple facts from a book.
“As are their mines,” he finishes.
Our eyes meet, just for a heartbeat. That strange flutter ripples through my core again, as if something deep inside is urging me to run. He has a beautiful face, this man. Somehow, he manages to make it look threatening.
He must be part of the royal court. He knows about the new gold mine, and he’s fishing for information. But why? Is he a spy trying to pry information out of me?
Or did Zarek send him? Does the snake of Vsenrog want to know what kind of woman he’s about to marry?
The man’s lips pull into another smile. It looks like a feast day mask, beautiful and cold.
“Are you looking forward to the ceremony tomorrow morning?” he asks.
“Of course,” I answer.
My throat feels tight. What other purpose do I have, my mind snaps, other than being handed off like a bag of gold from the royal vault?
The man’s eyes skate across my face like he’s trying to read something hidden there.
“Really?” he replies.
“I don’t see how that’s any concern of yours,” I spit, before I can stop myself.
The man turns away, but not before I see a strange twist on his lips. Damn it. That’s just what I need, some informant from the palace returning to Zarek to tell him that his future wife is a shrew with a fast mouth.
I clear my throat, sit up straighter despite the deep ache in my legs and back, and urge my horse forward. She trots, pulling ahead of the man in black.
There’s a clatter behind me, and then his mount pulls up next to mine. I keep my eyes fixed on the road between my mare’s ears.
“What about your betrothed?” the man whispers in that low voice. “You know they call him the snake.”
I shouldn’t respond. I know better.
But if this man is bringing a message back to Zarek, telling him what kind of woman he’s about to marry, then I want that message to be about more than my quick temper. I turn slightly in the saddle, meet the man’s eyes, and give him the sweetest smile I can force my mouth to create.
Thrust. Parry.
“I love snakes,” I reply.
Riposte.
The man’s mouth falls open. His mount stumbles, confused by the sudden change in his posture. I turn away, nudge my horse into a trot, and pull up between Anura and the guards.
There. Send that message to Zarek, you ass.
Tell my future husband I am not afraid.