He was right, and she knew it, and the notion made searing heat fill her chest. She wanted to roar like her sister and scream and tear. His eyes flicked over her face and caught the flare of her nostrils and the color in her cheeks. She hated him for it. She hated everything.
Her fingers curled into her palms, and voice cold, she said, “I have traveled the seven kingdoms since the year I was born. I know every palace. I know every route. I have insight and reason, and I’m good with a sword.” She knew those kings—the men who’d killed her mother—with a familiarity that hurt. Her eyes cut into Cass’s, and the room took on an eerie early-morning glow. “I will tell you what else, Cassius of Stormskeep. I will die with my hands covered in king’s blood. And I will die more satisfied than any fool who escapes to the sea.”
His jaw went tight at the way she’d said his name, but Cass only inclined his head. “As you say,” he whispered. His dark eyes grazed hers as he made to stand. “And so we ride into death together.”
Cass had not returned to their rooms for nearly an hour, so long that Miri had begun to wonder if he’d abandoned her. Maybe he’d decided she was a fool after all. She wasn’t surprised. It did seem like a daunting affair, even to her. But Miri could do nothing else. She had no other option.
A light knock came at the door, and she hesitated, wondering whether she should hide or answer. The room was small, and quite suddenly, she felt trapped. Her hand settled on the dagger at her belt, but the voice of the person that called through the door was soft and feminine.
“Good morning, miss. Your husband asked that I should offer you breakfast. Would you like to come down or sup in your room?”
Miri stood to cross the room, which took fewer than half a dozen steps, and drew the door open a crack. At first glance, she thought her visitor was the waitress from the night before, but the woman’s hair was a bit lighter and a bit shorter, and she wore a large brass ring through her ear.
“Thank you,” Miri said, opening the door wider to take a cake from the plate. “This is plenty, but I would like a bath.”
The woman smiled, and a mischievous twinkle lit her eye. “Of course you do.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You go on down. Bathing room is by the kitchen—second door—and I’ll wrap some of these cakes up for you to go. The boy’s readying your horses.”
“Thank you,” Miri said again, and the woman winked as she turned.
Miri stared after her for a moment then gathered her things to go below. The inn felt empty, and Miri wondered if Cass had chosen it because of that or if his surreptitious glances at the barkeep had kicked off an elaborate scheme. She remembered traveling as a child and how the guard would arrange for places to be emptied of staff, citizens, and anyone the guard might not be able to easily control. She didn’t think Cass had that kind of power, but the new kings had been brutal, and Miri knew that many more secret loyalists were about than anyone would willingly admit. The kings who had been lords had not garnered love and support from the territories they’d once been tasked with overseeing.
Miri’s bare feet were quiet on the narrow stair. The only sounds were the muffled horse calls from the stables and a clatter from the kitchen. She crossed in front of the doorway to the kitchen, glancing in to see a massive, window-filled space, a wide iron stove, and counters covered in flour, pots, and bowls. Two women stood before a counter, backs to the door, as they kneaded dough, and the barrel-chested man stood by the windows, a steaming cup on the sill before him. None of them seemed to notice her. Soon the inn would be filled with the inviting scent of freshly baked bread and the sting of lye.
Miri turned into the next doorway and glanced toward the hallway behind her as she followed the thin wooden door into the room. When she pushed it closed behind her, she heard the sound of something small being dropped into water. She spun, abruptly aware she was not alone.
Cass stared back at her, his naked legs curled into a wide metal tub, muscled torso bare. The waitress from the night before dropped two towels onto a table beside the tub.
“Well met, miss,” the woman said.
Miri felt her gaze shoot away from Cass’s bare flesh. His abdomen was tight where it dipped into the murky water. It was the wrong thing to do, and she was being rude to the maid, but she couldn’t seem to gather her wits.
“Wife,” Cass said smoothly in greeting before the silence stretched on.
The coolness in his tone, as if the situation were entirely fine, cut through Miri’s horror. “Good morning,” she managed.
The woman inclined her head slightly then turned from the room. Miri pressed her eyes closed. A few muffled shouts echoed from the stables, followed by a familiar nickering and pawing of hooves. Then she heard the cascade of water falling from Cass’s form as he stood from the tub and rinsed the soap off. Miri turned to face the door, refusing to open her eyes.
She heard his footsteps as he walked to the mirror, then came the clatter of a razor and a bowl. Curse him, he was going to shave while she waited. It was likely that he was only torturing her, reminding Miri that her whims were not his law. She would be damned to seven hells if he thought she would be cowed. She bit down against her instincts of civility and crossed to the stool. Cass might not have to listen to her, but he bleeding well knew he’d no business alone with a naked princess, not if he meant to leave his honor as a guardsman intact.
Checkmate, Miri thought as she unlaced her vest. She did not turn when she heard Cass gathering his things but waited until he shut the door. If he wanted to play the game of rules and law, he’d chosen the wrong opponent.
Miri undressed slowly, checking her hem for the lump of her mother’s hidden pendant before she stepped carefully into the tub. She was well and truly settled when she realized he’d used the last of the hot water from the bucket beside the tub. She opened her mouth to call for the maid but remembered the look from the woman’s sister in the hall—the smile when she’d said, “Of course you do,” to Miri’s request for a bath. They thought the two newly wed had planned a midmorning tryst. Miri ground her teeth and stepped out of the tub, splattering water across the stone floor as she made her way to grab the pitcher by the mirror. Cold water it was, if it meant not giving Cass the satisfaction of winning.
She was dressed in her trading clothes, hair wrapped in a tight braid and what might pass as a skinning knife at her side, when she walked into the cool morning air. Cass was waiting for her by the stables, and the apparent conversation he was having with a broad-shouldered man cut off as she crossed to meet them. The man disappeared into the shadows, and Cass approached Miri as the boy brought their saddled horses nearer. Cass threw him another coin, and the boy nodded, handing over the reins to go.
Cass raised a hand for Miri to help her onto her horse. She looked at the proffered palm for a moment then at Cass’s clean-shaven face. She let her eyes linger on the small patch of scruff he’d missed by the edge of his jaw then smiled as she took his help to mount her horse.
Miri remembered once being offered a hand by a boy at court and her mockingly sweet response of, “But who would help you, Lord Hammond, once the rest of us are ahorse?” Lord Ham Hock, Lettie had called him. Gods, but they’d been cruel. What Miri wouldn’t give to go back to those days and recapture every single moment and live them again.