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“Tonight?”
“When else?”
Franco cleared his throat, looking flustered by the request. “I suppose that is all right then.”
“Father . . .” Eugeneia began, her tone doubtful.
“You will go with him.” Franco’s double chins lifted as he nodded. “Lord Aron is kind enough to take notice of you. The least you can do is share a meal with him in gratitude for such an honor.”
The girl lowered her head. “Yes, of course.”
The night stretched long and endless ahead of Magnus once he retired to his private tent. Thoughts of magic, of unsuccessful quests, of a dead mother, a slain rebel, a disrespectful exiled Watcher, and of a golden-haired, defiant princess filled his mind. He tossed and turned on his pallet. After awhile, he decided that fresh air might help clear his head and rose.
He began to walk through the camp, past the long lines of tents of all sizes. He wondered which one belonged to the mysterious “cruel and brutish” Xanthus. Bonfires dotted the large clearing, sending sparks up into the darkening sky. Night-watch guards were set up to patrol while others slept, and they lined the area, their red uniforms easy to make out in the torch-lit surroundings.
Something hadn’t sat right with him about Aron’s request to dine with Eugeneia. He didn’t trust the boy, not with a pretty girl like that. Not unchaperoned.
“It’s none of your concern,” he told himself. This fact seemed to make little difference. He found himself at what he realized had been his destination all along.
Aron’s tent was almost as big as Magnus’s. Both were easily the size of a Paelsian cottage, with a seating area, a comfortable bed, a table to take meals at. Nothing like being at the Auranian palace, of course, but Magnus was accustomed to these sorts of austere accommodations.
He drew closer to the flap, glancing inside past the modest opening to see that Eugeneia had arrived and was seated at the table. Empty plates and platters lay discarded across the table. Their meal was over. Her hair was swept up off her shoulders into a braided coil and she’d changed her dress to one a bit finer than before.
“You must feel so honored right now,” Aron was saying. “To be here with me.”
He perched on the table next to where she sat. He ate a peach, slicing it with a fancy silver blade. The juice trickled down his chin before he wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt.
She sat in a chair an arm’s reach away from him. “Very honored,” she said after a pause.
“The moment King Gaius met me, he knew I was destined for greatness. It’s unheard of to be appointed to kingsliege at my age— especially not by a conquering king.” He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her reaction.
“You must be very special, my lord.”
“Do you want anything else to eat, my pet?”
“No—no, my lord. Much gratitude to you, but I really should go back. It’s late.” She glanced toward the flap and Magnus eased back into the shadows to keep from being seen.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“It’ll be an early day tomorrow, and—”
Aron was on her in an instant, pulling her up out of the chair and pressing his mouth to hers.
She gasped against his lips as she wrenched away from him. “Lord Aron . . . I barely know you!”
“You know me well enough. You’ll stay the night with me.”
Her cheeks turned bright red and she wrapped her arms around her chest. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. My father—”
“Your father would give permission if I asked him. You think he wouldn’t?” Aron gave her a wide, toothy smile. “He knows how important I am to the king. I do very special assignments for King Gaius—things not everyone would do. I take care of his problems under the cloak of night.”
“Problems?”
“Stupid, ignorant people that stand in the way of what he wants. I’ve proven myself so fully to King Gaius that he would allow me anything I desire.” His gaze swept the length of her with appreciation. “And right now I desire you.”
“I must go.” Eugeneia turned toward the flap.
Aron caught her arm. “I like a girl who plays hard to get, but my patience wears thin.”
