“What? Still no wedding? I got the impression yesterday that—” He dismissed his thought with a wave of his hand then asked, “What are you two waiting for? The temple is right here.” His theatrics were maddening and I wished he would just get on with his point, but I wasn’t sure he had one. Maybe simply annoying Jase was his goal. “Oh—it’s the queen, isn’t it? Waiting for her imminent arrival?”
“Yes,” I answered. “The queen is my sovereign. I am a soldier in her army, and I require her blessing.”
Paxton grinned, his eyes leisurely roaming over me. “For your sake, Jase, I hope the queen comes soon—or someone just might come steal away your prize.”
The way he said it, I knew he considered a Vendan soldier anything but a prize, but it pushed Jase’s patience to its limit. “Move along,” Jase ordered. “We’re done here.”
The mood changed in an instant, and Paxton’s flippant attitude vanished. This was not an order from one cousin to another, but from Patrei to underling, and it cut through the air with as much menace as a sword. There was no question that one more word from Paxton, and Jase would do something unpleasant. Paxton stiffened, his Ballenger pride evident, but he wasn’t stupid. He silently left without a good-bye, his crew following close behind him.
Jase’s eyes remained fixed on them as they walked away, a vein at his temple raised and hot.
“Is there nothing you won’t steal, Jase Ballenger?”
He looked at me, confused.
“Move along?” I said, trying to prick his memory. “My phrase to you? At least you didn’t threaten to cut his pretty neck. Or maybe you only said it because you were swept away with a nostalgic moment?”
A gleam lit his eyes, warmth replacing the rage that had been there seconds ago. “I guess your words suit me. Will borrowing them cost me something else?”
His gaze settled into me, touching me in intimate ways. I needed to throw the wall back up between us, but instead my blood raced warmer. I pulled in a shaky breath. “Not this time,” I answered. “Consider it a gift.”
His lips had barely parted, a reply imminent, when his attention was turned away by Priya and Mason, heckling his name as they laughed and strolled toward us, talking about the hour being well past noon, the hot sun, a cool tavern, a cold ale, roast venison, and—I didn’t hear what else. Timing was everything, and theirs was perfect. The noise rose, the shadows swirled, sun dappled shade swayed with the breeze, and the arms of the city reached out to spirit me away.
And even the eyes that had been quietly watching us from afar were bewildered when I disappeared.
* * *
Wren meant to be angry. I saw it in her eyes, but once we were far from everyone else, in a quiet little alley, she blew out a fierce relieved breath and hugged me. Hugs were rare from Wren. In fact, the only time I could remember one before was when she clutched me after her family died.
“By the gods, where have you been?” she demanded, her face flushed with heat.
“You didn’t lose faith in me, did you?”
Synové’s eyes narrowed in the shadows of her hat, their blue ice sparking, a wicked smile curling her mouth. “Who cares where she’s been? What has she been doing? Tell us everything.”
I told them about the labor hunters and our escape—and about the chain that kept us together. I skipped the parts of our journey that I knew Synové was hoping for. “But the best part is I’m inside Tor’s Watch now and have a reason to stay for a while.” I explained further about the letter to the queen, and the conditions I had laid down. “My little business agreement with the Patrei will not only give me access and time to search the compound, but will also provide reparations to the settlers in the process. They’re going to get everything back that they lost.” They stared at me, not looking as pleased as I had expected. “It really couldn’t have worked out better,” I added. “Any sign of Natiya yet?”
“Hold on just a minute,” Synové balked. “You think we’re going to let you breeze over the main item? Him. You were both out for blood last we saw you, but just now, the sparks flying between you two could have singed my hair. What’s going on?”
I looked to Wren for help. She shrugged. “Might as well tell us. You know she won’t stop.”
I confessed that there had been a moment or two between us when we were out in the wilderness, but now it was over.
Synové snorted. “As over as an old man’s grudge. Did you do it? You know, it?”
“No!”
“Don’t be so touchy, Kazi. Whatever you had to do to occupy your time is fine with me. And he does clean up well. So does his friend. That tall, dark, handsome one. What’s his name?”
I looked at her in disbelief.
“Just playing with you,” she said and shoved my shoulder. “Sort of.” She leaned against the wall of the shop we were hiding behind and folded her arms, ready to get down to business. “There’s no sign of Natiya and Eben yet. We’ve been watching for them in town. Nothing.”
It was a worry. It wasn’t like Natiya to be late, but our plan had cushions in it for the unexpected, like weather or lame horses. We discussed the possibilities—even bandits on the road—but between Eben and Natiya, we were sure bandits would be on the losing end of any encounter. Eben had been trained to become the next Assassin of Venda, but after the war that position was eliminated. The queen disapproved of stealth murders, especially since she had narrowly escaped one herself. But his skills were still there. His mastery of a knife was awe-inspiring.
“We know they’ll show up,” Wren said. “They’re just delayed for a good reason. That will give us plenty of time to lie low, like she ordered.”
“And for you to milk as much as you can out of the Ballengers for the settlement,” Synové added.