He nodded to one side with his chin. "Then use the door."
"Can I give you something in return?"
"There's nothing I need."
Cassi rolled her eyes, a playful yet frustrated move. "Why are you so honorable?"
"You say it as though it's a bad thing."
Under her breath, she half growled, "Maybe it is."
Xander pushed his brows together even as a grin tugged at his lips. She was mystifying. An expert fighter who happened to enjoy reading. An owl who'd grown up surrounded by doves. A woman who always wore a brave face, yet when he thought of her, he remembered that moment in the square, seconds after the dragon attack, when he'd held her in his arms and she'd let him.
Cassi was a puzzle—one he was determined to solve.
"Perhaps you can do one thing for me," Xander finally said, his mind still on his mating day, on the fight with that man and the battle with the dragon. In both instances, he'd been a liability, someone who was in the way while others fought to tame the beast. He didn’t want to be that person anymore. He wanted to be someone who could face down a dragon with more than futile hope and an empty scream on his lips. "You could train me."
"Train you?" She frowned. "What about Helen? What about the hundreds of guards in a little place called the barracks about two hundred feet to our left?"
"I've been training with them since I was a boy, and not a single one ever thought to tell me the most important rule of battle."
"Which is?"
"That my sword could be my friend."
She snorted, though the ghost of a smile graced her lips. "I said that was the first rule of battle, not the most important."
"So, teach me the rest too."
"I don't think I'd make a very good teacher."
"That's all right." He shrugged, nothing if not persistent. A fallback of being royal—he was unused to hearing the word no. "I'll make up for it by being an excellent student."
"Books for lessons?"
Xander nodded.
Cassi studied him, her gaze boring into his as though searching for some reason to keep fighting. When he didn't give one, she sighed and glanced to the books by their feet. By the time she looked back at him, her mind was made. "Prince Xander, you have yourself a deal."
"Excellent."
They shook hands. It didn't go beyond his notice that she showed no hesitation in extending her left arm, not her right one, something it had taken most of his advisors some getting used to when he'd come of age. It told him she was smart, which he already knew, but also observant and quick, all traits he imagined to be perfect qualities in his new instructor. If she wanted to one day, she'd make a fine royal guard.
He was about to say so when the window shattered.
Fractured glass pelleted his side like a hundred little needles, the sound of falling shards like that of rain, truncated by the deep thud of something heavy landing on the rug. Xander twisted away instinctively and lifted his arms to cover his face. By the time he righted himself, Cassi was already beside the window with her dagger at the ready, her predator's eyes scanning the darkness. He rushed to her side.
"Do you see anything?"
"No."
Xander studied the shadows, but it was futile. If an owl couldn't see anything, a raven had no chance, especially at night. Instead, he left her by the window and searched for the source of the break. Hardly a second passed before he noticed a rock sitting within the pile of broken glass, a bit of black lettering only half-visible. He carefully lifted it from the floor, spinning it until he could read the message.
Kill him.
"What does it say?"
The clog in Xander's throat made it impossible to speak, jovial mood as thoroughly ruined as the window, so he simply lifted the rock overhead. Cassi snatched it from his grasp and muttered a curse. He barely heard.
Kill him.
That's what the message said, but he knew what it meant.
Kill Rafe.
His people had been angry ever since they'd made the announcement that his brother had stolen the princess. They'd taken to the streets, shouting for revenge, screaming for justice. But that wasn't enough. Now they wanted blood.
I did this.
Xander winced, closing his eyes against the truth. No matter what had happened between Rafe and him, no matter what his brother had done, Xander still loved him. Yet he'd condemned him to this. Maybe his earlier answer to Cassi's question had been false—a naïve and noble hope. He could have given his people the truth, for better or worse, so they could fight this evil together. Instead, he'd thrown his brother to the wolves.
Don't come back. Xander sent out the thought like a prayer to his god, as though Rafe might somehow hear. Wherever you are in the world, brother, don’t come back. Not yet. Not until I have a better answer to give them. Please, for your own good, stay away.
9
Rafe
The ground had never seemed so far away. Not in the countless hours he'd spent hovering over Xander with the other guards while their prince walked the city streets. Not when he'd soared thousands of miles above the Sea of Mist. Not even when he'd fought that dragon on the sky bridge. Logically, Rafe knew it was no more than twenty feet, and that even if he fell, his magic would heal him. That did little to stop the blood from rushing to his head or his heart from leaping up his throat every time a strong breeze pushed him the slightest bit off balance.
"Come on," Brighty called from the top of the mast, having already completed the climb. "We haven’t got all day."
I'm pretty sure we do, Rafe grumbled silently, latching his fists around the ropes and holding on for not-so-dear life as the ship rocked in the waves. Time seemed to be the one thing he had in abundance. Lost within the endless fog, the days passed in a blur, one just the same as the next. Life on the ship was a monotonous cycle of eating, sleeping, and learning the ropes while trying his best not to strangle Brighty with them.
"I didn’t take you for someone who'd be afraid of heights."
I'm not. Or at least he hadn't used to be, but it was a new feeling entirely to know that if he fell, there would be no wings to catch him.
"If you get to the top before I count to ten, I'll answer one of your questions about the king."
At her challenge, Rafe finally looked up to where she perched in the little basket atop the main mast, a smirk on her face. He couldn't tell if she was lying, but something told him she was being honest—she just didn't expect him to make it in time.
"One."
Rafe scrambled up the net, forgetting about the ground and the fall and the wind and the waves, focusing instead on where to wrap his fingers and place his feet. The higher he climbed, the more the world swayed. The sounds of the crew fell away, replaced by whistling gusts and whipping sails. The countdown droned in his ear.
"Two. Three. Four."
He missed a step, leg falling through a hole, and panic snatched his breath. The ropes bit into his palms as he caught his weight. Gritting his teeth, Rafe righted himself.
"Five. Six. Seven."
The net grew narrower as he neared the highest point. It wobbled unsteadily beneath him, making his biceps and thighs burn in the best way. His abdomen fired up as he fought to keep his balance, his body blazing with life.