“You should eat before everything gets cold.”
“I’m not hungry. And your collar has rouge on it,” I say, spotting the smear of red matching the blush of the blonde, busty servant standing at the wall behind Baze, her gaze cast on the floor.
He pulls on his collar, inspecting the stain. “Well, I do love a good souvenir.” Throwing me a wink, he buffs his jewel-encrusted ring. “And look at you, artfully diverting the conversation.”
“Who gave you that?” I ask, admiring the way light refracts off the polished faces of all those tiny, ebony gems. “I’ve always wondered.”
He watches me from beneath raised brows. “Who do you think?”
He really needs to lower his expectations of me for a while.
“Just ... give me multiple choice answers so I don’t feel inclined to toss a melon at your head.”
“Well,” he drones, tone mocking, “let me give your sludgy, hungover brain a hint.”
I’m going to murder him.
“The same person who puts those clothes on your back and pays Cook to keep you brimming with honey buns. Speaking of which, want one?” He gestures to the pile stacked in front of me.
My stomach knots.
“Not unless you want me to vomit all over you. And how long ago was that?” I ask, massaging my temples again, trying to ignore the dull throb.
The corner of Baze’s lips sweep into a hook. “You know what, the years kind of ...blurtogetherunder his management. Now,” he slams his hand on the table—the sound a blade through my skull, “let’s get moving. If we’re lucky, we might catch a few rogue rays of sunshine before the rain hits.”
And ifhe’slucky, he might survive the day.
“Wait, what about our swords?” I ask, trying to keep pace with Baze’s long, determined strides. Hard when I keep getting distracted by all the fluffy rose bushes.
The spurt of sun has done them good.
“We’ll grab them later. Rhordyn wants me to spend an hour or so focusing on hand-to-hand combat,” he mutters, chewing the end of a long piece of grass.
I scoff. “Funny that, seeing as I managed to kick him in the balls the other day.”
Baze’s head swings around so fast, I’m surprised his neck doesn’t snap. “Excuse me?”
I shrug, massaging my temples, trying to draw comfort from the spongy grass beneath my bare feet. “He called it a cheap shot—”
A smooth, melodic giggle tinkles through the garden, attacking me with its sweet harmony. What swiftly follows makes my heels dig in—a deep, robust,familiarlaugh that rolls like thunder.
I take off at a run through the labyrinth of botanical pathways with Baze cursing after me, something that only serves to accelerate my search.
Rounding a lush, perfumed bend, I slam to a stop.
There, standing amongst the roses—myroses—is the most striking woman I’ve ever seen.
She’s tall and statuesque, her ocher cloak doing nothing to conceal her shape. Its split yawns from neck to foot, creating a window for long legs accentuated by brown pants that could pass as body paint, and a sandy top tailored to move with her curves.
If her clothes are anything to go by, this woman is comfortable in her beautiful, creamy skin.
Her hair is a tumble of strawberry wine, the fall of it tucked behind an ear lined with little rust-colored gems. Her pouty lips are pink, cheeks dusted with freckles. Long, thick lashes brush her well-defined brows as she looks up athim.
Rhordyn. Roughly hewn perfection. The man who wrapped himself around me last night and lulled me to sleep as if itmeant something.
He offers her a smile that almost looks tired, but it’s still a smile.
Hissmile.
