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“I don’t know.” I leaned back against the cushion, folding my arms. My thoughts raced. I knew it wouldn’t be wise to deny a prince, so I had to proceed with caution. “But if he thinks that I’m just going to submit and make this easy for him? He has another think coming.”
A knock came shortly after Naomi had left. I hadn’t wanted her caught in the middle when Prince Thorne came for me. I had no idea what I was going to do, let alone how the Prince would respond.
Except it wasn’t him at the door.
Lord Bastian stood in the hall, his mouth curved in a half grin. “Good evening,” he said, bowing slightly. My eyes were drawn to the dagger strapped to his chest. “I’m to escort you to Prince Thorne.”
My back stiffened as I clasped the side of the door, and I wasn’t sure why, but Prince Thorne sending another toescortme hit every nerve in my body the wrong way. “He was unable to come himself?”
“Unfortunately no.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “He is running a bit behind and asked that I go in his stead.”
“I apologize for wasting your time.” I spoke carefully, having no idea how this Hyhborn lord would respond. “But I have no intentions of joining Prince Thorne this evening.”
Dark brows lifted. “You do not?”
“No. I’m not feeling all that well,” I said. “He will need to find some other way to occupy his time.”
The nearby buttery light of a wall sconce glanced off the smooth, dark skin above his neatly trimmed beard. “Is there something that I could get for you then?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re feeling unwell.” The green of his eyes brightened to the point where I couldn’t see the other colors. “Is there something I can retrieve for you?”
I blinked rapidly. “Th— ” I stopped myself, and the other side of Lord Bastian’s lips tipped up. “I appreciate your offer, but I have what I need.”
“You sure?” he pressed. “It will be no trouble.”
I nodded. “Again, I apologize for wasting your time, my lord. I do wish you a good evening.” I moved to close the door.
Lord Bastian moved so fast I couldn’t even hope to track his movement. One hand shot out, landing on the center of the door and stopping me from closing it. “May I ask what is ailing you?” Lord Bastian dipped his chin. “Thor will ask, after all.”
“Thor?” I murmured.
“Short for Thorne. It annoys him when we call him that, so of course, that is all we call him.” Lord Bastian winked.
“Oh.” That was my most intelligent response. I was a little thrown by his teasing nature. “I . . . I, uh, have a headache.”
“Ah, I see.” Straight white teeth appeared as the Lord smiled more broadly. “I’m guessing that headache is a rather large one? Perhaps if you had to describe it, you’d say that it came in a six-foot-and-seven-inch frame?”
I snapped my mouth shut.
Lord Bastian chuckled. “I will let him know that you are . . . feeling under the weather.” His hand slid off the door. “I do hope you don’t find yourself plagued by an even larger headache.” He stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back once more. “Good evening.”
“Good evening.” I closed the door, going rigid when I heard his muffled laugh from the hall.
Clearly, Lord Bastian didn’t believe me. Or more accurately, he’d guessed the source of my fabricated headache.
But Prince Thorne would have to be a right ass if he sent another or came himself after hearing that I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t think it would hold him off forever, but it should at least give me the night to figure out what I was going to do— what I could do— and possibly longer, since he said he had to leave to meet with his armies.
But do you really want to stop him from coming?that annoying voice whispered.
“Yes,” I hissed, toeing off my shoes. I crossed the antechamber, my bare feet sinking into the soft area rug as I went to the small credenza and poured myself a half shot of whiskey. The liquor was the best Archwood had to offer, mellow and smooth with the barest taste of alcohol. Or so everyone said. I could still taste the bite of liquor, but I downed the whiskey, lips peeling back against the burn.
It did little to calm my nerves, and I poured myself another half shot and brought it with me as I walked to the window. I looked past the goldensolsdancing in the night sky.
By the time the Feasts were in full swing, the Prince’s armies would be at Archwood. Then, how long before the Iron Knights made their way here? It took no leap of logic to assume that the act had more to do with the importance of the port and the Hyhborn Court seated just beyond than it did with the people who called Archwood home.
I rested my cheek against the window, thinking of what the people of Archwood would think once they saw the Hyhborn forces. Once they learned of the Westlands threat? The fear and dread would be palpable. I swallowed the whiskey, welcoming the bite this time. The aristo would likely abandon the city until the threat had passed. Many had families in other cities and the means with which to travel there. But the poorest among the Archwood— the miners and dockworkers, the laborers? Everyone who kept the city and the ports open and running? There’d be no easy escape for them. They’d have to ride it out—
