“I’ll leave the Threshers behind.”
The reaction to my words was immediate. The guard’s head snapped up, confusion tightening his features before he looked to Kallias for explanation.
“We’ll be together,” I said before he could answer. “They have more important tasks. Reem requires protection.”
A scoff left Kallias’ throat, and I straightened in my seat.
“She delights in getting under your skin,” he told Greaves. “Still, they hold value on a battlefield. One rides with us. Claus orLynx? Choose. We won’t be together every waking moment, and you’ll need a guard.”
“More than one,” Greaves muttered, giving me a quick glance before shoving twin daggers into his pack.
I barely had to give it any thought. “Claus.”
He stilled, eyes closing for a beat. Disappointment flickered across his face. Lynx was his preference—but he thrived within the palace walls. Claus, however, knew mountain roads and foreign inns.
Kallias’ mouth curved at his friend’s reaction. “Done.”
When trunks were latched and straps tightened, Alma and Fallione slipped out mid-discussion, voices fading down the corridor. I dismissed Freya and Edith, the door clicking shut behind them. Silence settled.
Thin linen skimmed my skin as I stepped from the dressing room, arms folded against the night’s chill.
Greaves’ gaze swept over me, jaw tightening in a full display of his mounting frustration. “For the record, I don’t think you should come.”
“I donotrecall asking your opinion.” My brows lifted at the blunt remark, lips parting in shock.
“I did,” Kallias said, adjusting the tie of his sleep trousers. “I asked for his honesty—and he’s giving it.”
“It is not safe, and you both know it,” Greaves continued, voice roughened by restraint. He reached beneath his mattress and drew out a slim dagger. “The logical choice is to leave the queen behind while the king rides to battle. Especially when she carries the heir.” The sheathed blade angled toward my abdomen, emphasizing my pregnant state.
“By the gods, love robs people of all sense,” he added, then shifted the weapon to point at Kallias’ chest. “Claus’ ink is barely two years old. Lynx has six. And you let her decide between them.”
“Lynx is bound to the Golden Palace,” I said.
He was upset, but not angry. His frustration felt more theatrical than furious.
“And he was raised in the south,” Kallias muttered, then stretched his back with a low groan. “Claus hails from Glon. He knows the mountains.”
“You told me I could pick her guard,” Greaves pressed. “I can’t protect you both.”
“Greaves,” I mused, “who do you worship?”
His stare sharpened. “Do not drag the gods into this, Dragon’s Heart.”
Laughter burst from me, sudden and bright as I brushed hair from my face. He knew where I was going, telling him to trust in his gods, and he called me on it.
“Enough,” Kallias murmured, sinking onto the bed.
Greaves crossed the room in three long strides, then offered the dagger. When I wrapped my fingers around the hilt, he did not release it. His grip held firm until I met his gaze.
“You wear this. Each day we are away from Reem. Keep it hidden, but within reach. Beneath your dress. Above your womb. Those slits in your skirts make access easy enough. Up your sleeve, in your boot. I don’t care. I won’t catch you without it.”
Our attention shifted to Kallias, who watched with a deepening frown.
“Don’t make me search her for it, Kal.”
“You dare, and I’ll remove your right thumb.”
Greaves let go. I lifted the dagger toward the lantern’s faint glow. Black hilt. Plain sheath. I eased the blade free an inch.
