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“Yes, there is a reason they don’t expect it,” she replied, her heart quaking. “Because it is reckless.”
“Recall, lass, you faced down a boar.”
She blew out a shaky laugh. “How are you so brave?” she asked weakly as they walked to the castle gates.
“I’m not brave. I’m reckless.”
“That does not help at all,” she scolded in a whisper.
She felt him smile.
But his hand, lightly touching the small of her back, not pushing her, not even guiding her, just…touching her, helped a great deal when they drew up at the front doors of Rose Citadel.
It was shockingly easy to get past the door wardens: a lady, any lady, was allowed through, as was any man at her side.
Cassia did not even have to announce who she was. She flashed her silks and her smile, and they waved her through.
Máel disapproved of the lax security, but very much approved of the way Cassia had smiled at the guards. They’d been transfixed.
Idiots.
He recalled how he had almost had his tent burned down around his ears because he’d been transfixed.
Idiot.
The guards had not even noticed that she was wearing a cloak on a summer day. Never wondered what she might be hiding beneath. Her smile was all that was required. She was noble. The world opened itself to people like her.
Inside, the great hall was bustling like a market square. People rushed everywhere. Servants carried candle nubs and buckets of water. Ladies laughed and held out sleeves that needed stitching. Knights tested their sword moves and called to squires to re-oil their armor.
She guided them through it all, keeping her head down, until a hand reached out and drew her to a stop.
“Lady Cassia!”
It was Sir Bennett, buckling on his armor. A red-faced young squire stood by his side, tilting sideways under the weight of the iron in his arms.
“Are you back so soon, my lady?”
“I— Yes.”
“At first, we thought you’d been abducted.”
She froze, then he laughed as if a gentle, amusing tale had been told.
“I jest. Your father guards you like you are his last treasure. Which you are. Until you are mine.”
He gave her a look that she presumed was meant to be provocative: eyes wide, brows up and wiggling.
She thought of Máel and his slow smile. His distrust of everything easy. His hands, his mouth, his mission.
Show me how you wish it done.
“But I thought you had gone with your father. Has he returned as well?” Bennett asked, turning to peer at the wide-open doors.
She assembled a smile on her face. “Not yet. I had to return to—”
“Because there were rumors.” Sir Bennett interrupted.
She stilled. “Rumors?
