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“…contained to the palace and grounds, any trips into the city will be made under the commander’s watchful eye.” The king leaned back in his throne, eyes flashing with warning, his diamond tipped glove tapping the arm of his throne. “Am I clear?”
“Perfectly.” I’d heard enough. We were under house arrest, at least until we figured out how to shake our armored baby sitter, still glaring daggers at me.
Fine, then.
The game was on.
The commander’s armor rattled when he stopped before me, forcing me to tip my head up and up and up, over his opulent silver and gold breastplate until my gaze landed on his haughty face. “Allow me to escort you to your room.My lady.”
Was it my imagination, or did I detect the same sneering disapproval in his tone that I’d heard in the king’s?
“Quickly.” He lowered his voice. “Or I will throw your spoiled, rotten ass over my shoulder, fine dress and all.”
No, I definitely hadn’t imagined it.
I spun on my heel, caught Ember by the arm and started for the doors, while he rattled and clanged behind us. “At least we’ll always know where he is.” She whispered, while I smothered a laugh.
“It’s like being followed by a sink full of dirty pots and pans.” I whispered back, and Ember couldn’t quite stifle her snort.
The Commander of the High Guard—Tavion I-Take-My-Job-Very-Seriously Montgomery—followed us until I slammed the door in his very handsome face.
His boot stopped me from shutting it completely, his expression darkening. “I have a question for you, little thief.”
What was with that name?
First Solok, now the commander?
“I am not in the habit of answering brutes who call me names.” I kept both hands pressed to the door, using every bit of my weight to counter the force of his boot forcing the door wider.
“Names?” His brow wrinkled; his confusion seemingly genuine. “You mean…little thief?”
“That’s the one. I don’t appreciate the insult. I’ve never stolen anything, not once in my entire life.”
“How old are you?” He tilted his head, his boot working the door open, widening the crack, despite me shoving against it.
“Eighteen, or somewhere thereabouts.”
“Of age, and yet you don’t know what your own name means?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
“Anaria is your name, is it not?” Tavian smiled, seduction and death combined in the evil curve of his lips as he glowered down at me. “In High Fae, Anaria means thief. Your name means youhavestolen something, and the little….” He shrugged his shoulders, yanking his boot back at the same time.
The door slammed shut, my cheek skinning on the wood when I crashed with it, his soft, evil chuckle echoing from the other side. “The little is because you weigh no more than a sack of apples.”
His heavy bootsteps echoed away, leaving me pressed to the door. All I could think about was Solok and the king, that first day in the throne room.
“Your decision, I suppose?”The king had asked.
“It seemed appropriate, given the circumstances.”Solok had responded, his voice creamy with delight, as if he’d done something clever.
What circumstances?
Why was I really here, and why did everyone just assume I was a thief?
“I’m named after a type of poisonous toad, so don’t feel bad about your name.” Ember soothed, though she couldn’t hide her worry. “It could always be worse.”
“Do you ever get that feeling all the Mistress’s stories about Caladrius were true?” Ember sniffed and I sat beside her. “We have to get out of here.” I whispered. “Before any of those stories come true.”
