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As Benedikt eases down my body, Casimir dips his head close and—
My pulse jolts at a sudden thump. My eyes pop open…
It’s just me. Me, with my skin flushed and a pang of need low in my belly, alone on the sofa where I’ve been sleeping.
Well, not quite alone. Daylight streams from the far window, glancing off Stavros’s ruddy hair as he bends to retrieve a box from the floor.
He catches me staring at him and offers a crooked grin. “I’d apologize for waking you up with my moment of clumsiness, but I’d rather say I was testing your reflexes. It’s about time you came out of dreamland anyway.”
Dreamland.
Right. Dreams.
Oh, gods, what a dream.
I must have stared at him a beat too long, remembering the all-too-vivid press of his bare chest against mine, because Stavros raises an eyebrow. I feel my cheeks flame scarlet.
“Good point,” I say, somewhat inanely, shoving off the sheet that is in fact still there. The former general has seen me in nothing but my underclothes before, yet somehow the nightgown that covers much more of me feels far too exposing. “I’ll get on with getting ready for the day. I’m sure we have much to do.”
Stavros’s eyebrow stays lifted as I grab the latest riding gown Casimir has sent along—to replace the one Anya splattered with her wine—and hustle over to the latrine. His drawl carries after me through the door. “Nice to see you so dedicated to your work, Thief.”
Yep, that’s all that’s going through my head. Total dedication to our cause. Also, my drawers are definitely not soaked between my thighs.
Gods smite me.
Julita must notice my discomfort, even if—thank all that’s divine—she isn’t privy to my imaginings.Is something wrong? You seem a little agitated.
I give her a subtle shake of my head in answer.
To my relief, the door thumps with Stavros’s departure before I’ve finished tying the laces on my dress. I splash a little water on my face, twist my hair into the hasty arrangement I’ve gotten used to, and head down to the dining hall feeling almost normal.
As I slip into the vast room, I might get some inquisitive looks from the nobles at the nearest tables. At this point, who knows how far word has spread of my sudden apprenticeship under the much-lauded general and whatever other exploits people feel are gossip-worthy?
More ominous are the stern gazes of the two soldiers from the Crown’s Watch standing guard near the doorway. Apprehension prickles down my back even though I know they’re not here specifically for me.
A graceful wave of a hand gives me something else to focus on. Esmae motions me over to the seat next to her.
I veer around to the counters to grab a plate of eggs and pastries before sinking down into the neighboring chair.
Unfortunately, the moment I sit down, I realize that I’m in the direct line of sight of Romild, two tables over. She catches me noticing her and narrows her eyes into a glower.
I drop my gaze to my plate as if it’s the most fascinating arrangement of food I’ve ever seen and snatch up my fork. “I wonder if Romild is ever going to forgive me for that trick with the saddle.”
Julita sniffs.There’s nothing to forgive you for. You were simply proving she can’t hold a candle to your skills, after she so rudely questioned them.
“Clearly she had a lot invested in vying for that position,” Esmae says in a more measured tone. “I can see how it’d have been… startling for her to find out it’d been taken without the typical procedure.”
I grimace. “Don’t people”—I cut myself off before I saypeople around here, as if I’m not a noble like them, and regather myself—“Don’t all of us benefit from our connections sometimes? It isn’t as if I arranged for my father to have known Ster. Stavros’s before I was even born.”
Esmae bobs her head. “It’s totally understandable that he’d have felt he could trust you—and from what I’ve heard, you’ve handled the job as well as anyone could ask. But when you really want something, I suppose it’s hard not to feel some sting of unfairness.”
The tightness of her voice prompts me to take a closer look at her. She doesn’t sound as if she’s simply speculating about a near-stranger.
Of course, she’s been open with me about how desperately she wants to find a prestigious position of her own after she graduates. I guess it can’t be too difficult for her to imagine being in a similar situation.
Esmae aims a bright smile at me and motions to the pastries I chose at random. “I’m stealing that moon roll from you if you don’t eat it. The chefs outdid themselves with those.”
I crack a grin. “In that case, I’m eating it first. You’d better grab yourself another of your own.”
