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His jaw tightened. "She demanded I inform you that if you wish to be cleared for duty, you WILL attend the ball tonight. The ball that begins in —" He glanced at his pocket watch. "— three hours."
"Wait, what!?" I spluttered as I looked down at my sweaty clothes and body. "I wasn't planning on —"
"No need to have a fit." He chuckled. "The ever-forward-thinking Lady Frexin sent a team to your room to help you prepare."
Of course she had. Which meant she probably also sent a damn corset and heels.
Wait, had he said she was clearing me for duty?
I'd almost missed it in the horror of his other words!
"She actually said if I go to the ball, I'll be cleared for duty?" I asked, excitement bubbling in my chest.
"It would seem that way," he sneered. "Though, now that I see you." His gaze slid slowly down my body. "I can't help but wonder if that's a good idea."
I crossed my arms in front of my chest.
"Not a good idea?" I spat. "Are you insane? I've been working the past SIX months so I can return to the field. Why in the seven hells would I stop now?"
He gestured towards me, ringed fingers glinting in the setting sun "You look healed, but … tired." He dropped his hand. "Are you sure you're fully recovered?"
"I just haven't slept well lately. Plus, my work is too important to wait. I need to get back out there."
"Saints, Princess." He rubbed at the rings in his left ear. "Have these injuries taught you nothing? Fuck. The world won't come crashing down if you take a break from your work. There are other relic hunters — ones you could even team up with if you weren't so saints forsaken stubborn. But no, the great Kaiya Maderoth must go it alone … no matter the cost."
My memory slipped back to Gleyma — a time I hadn't gone it alone.
Lifeless green eyes stared sightlessly up at me. My fault.
Aunt Grace lay unconscious a few yards away, unaware she would never walk again. My fault.
Warped and bloody bodies scattered across the room — people I'd grown up with — corrupted by a magic that should never have been touched. My fault.
All because of that accursed cult, and Lynk … and my gods damned childish mistakes.
No. It may be convenient to have a team, but I’d never risk another person like that again.
"You know what? Forget I said anything …" He shook his head and stepped back. "Like my sister used to say, 'Keep your head down, and mind your own mushroom patch.' So do whatever you like, Princess. I don't care. Just remember our deal."
I rolled my eyes.
"Of course. But I don't see how drinking all the Empire's liquor and fucking their citizens plays into the rebellion." I raised my eyebrows. "How is being a Rogue going for you these days, Your Highness?"
His eyes widened, and he slammed his hand against my mouth, gesturing wildly toward the people outside the room.
Seriously? His hand was disgusting, and I didn't want it anywhere near my mouth. Who knew where it had been?
I bit down as hard as I could.
"Ow!" Jaiel leaped back, blue eyes wide as he clutched the injured hand to his chest.
"They weren't even listening, asshole." I hissed, wiping my mouth. "I'll keep your damn secret, so long as you keep mine. Now, if you'll excuse me," I stepped back. "I have a gods-forsaken ball to prepare for."
"Hells! I can't believe you actually bit me. And hard," he mumbled. "I was just trying to help, for saints sake."
"Careful now, Prince Kierstall. That almost sounds like you care."
His blue gaze darkened, then his lips quirked. "Of course I care, Princess." He lifted a hand to his chest in feigned affront. "I mean … I wouldn't want such lovely assets going to waste. Alone. Out in the wilderness, in forgotten tombs. In fact …" he purred, stepping closer — close enough that the scents of silk and warm tea flooded over me. "I'm sure I could convince my companions to let you join us for one last fling." His nose flared and his eyes narrowed. "After you clean yourself up, of course."
