I glance behind him. “I’m fairly certain you intended to go alone. It’s almost as though you want the witch queen to capture you.”
He snorts. “Get your ass on your horse if you’re going to come.”
“This is foolish. You need an army to confront her.” I’m rethinking my decision to join him.
“I am an army,” he replies softly, “Anyone else is only a weak flank I would need to protect. And I don’t intend to confront her. If she sees me, then I deserve to lose my crown. Perhaps you can learn to be a little quieter this time, Princess? You blunder through the woods like a troll.”
A little quieter? “You had no idea I was in the trees above you.”
“I didn’t need to know. The only road through those trees was the one I’d followed, so I knew where you’d return to. Strategy, Princess. By the time I found your horse, I could hear you floundering through the snow like a crippled bane.”
I swear to the Old Ones, I ought to kick him off a cliff.
“Fine.” I swing into the saddle. “Let’s see what Angharad is doing at Mistmere. Lead the way, oh, dangerous one. I promise I’ll shed a tear if a troll eats you.”
“If a troll eats anyone, it’s going to be you,” he says as I ride out of the stables ahead of him. “All those soft delicious curves and tender flesh. Why would he want to pick over my rangy bones and sinew when he has you to salivate over?”
I shoot him a baleful glare. “You’d best be talking about the troll.”
There’s a smile on the prince’s face. “Of course I am, Princess. Because if I were to get my hands on you, it wouldn’t be your flesh I’d devour. Nor would I use my teeth. Unless you wanted me to.”
Mother of Night. Heat blooms in my cheeks. The Prince of Evernight is dangerous in more ways than one.
“Then it’s a good thing you’re never going to get your hands on me.”
“We’ll see. After all, it’s going to be cold out there, Princess.”
10
“Why Mistmere? I thought there was nothing here but ruins after the Great Wars,” I say as we use the Valerian Hallow to transport ourselves to the Hallow in the mountains above Mistmere.
We had to leave the horses—they don’t like portals very much—which means we’re on foot. In snow up to my knees. I’m trying very hard to remind myself why I volunteered for this mission.
The prince’s dark eyes hood as he glances my way, and I know instinctively he’s fighting to form the right words—to tell me just enough truth without giving away his secrets.
“Don’t bother finding a means to skirt a lie. It’s not as though I can report directly to my mother. Not until spring breaks, anyway.”
I stalk past him, but I’ve only taken two steps when he catches my arm. I look down at the firm fingers locked around my wrist, and then up into those mercurial eyes. Sometimes I forget how tall he is, how powerful. And its not until he touches me that I feel the skim of tension light over my arms.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he says.
“And yet you refuse to tell me a wretched thing. I’ve seen you all watching me, whispering behind my back. I know you’re keeping secrets. Well, I don’t care. I have nearly six weeks remaining of this sentence, and then I’m free of your company and you of mine.”
His thumb strokes over the inside of my wrist, over my pulse. “Are you certain you’ll be free of me?”
I tear my arm free. “Quite.”
The faintest of smiles touches his mouth. Thiago leans closer. “And yet, you kissed me last night.”
“I seem to recall it being the other way around.”
“Let me rephrase: You kissed me. Back.”
Heat fills my cheeks, because there’s no way I can deny it and not call myself a liar. I’d definitely lingered. “That’s beside the point. You don’t—"
“What’s wrong? It was a good kiss. You’ve naught to be ashamed about.”
“I thought we weren’t going to mention it again.”
“I don’t believe I agreed with that statement.” He’s definitely smiling to himself. “And you don’t give the orders here, in my kingdom.”
“We’re not in your kingdom,” I point out sweetly.
Thiago growls under his breath. “Stubborn.”
“Always.”
“As to your earlier question—before I had a chance to reply—you were right. There isn’t anything in Mistmere,” Thiago says, slipping through the forest with the grace of a ghost. “Only the ruins of a powerful kingdom.”
“Then why…?”
“Because maybe they’re trying to resurrect something within those ruins,” he shoots over his shoulder.
“What does that even mean?”
“You’ll see. It’s why I brought you, anyway.”
“I didn’t think you had much of a choice.”
“Oh, I had a choice. I could have chained you in the dungeon.”
“You have a dungeon?” I haven’t seen one anywhere in the ruins.
“I would have one made if you annoy me enough. Trust me, I’m starting to consider it.”
“If you locked me in a dungeon, I’d spend the rest of my life making you regret it.”
“How? You can’t even ward. And come to think of it, I’ve never even seen you use your magic. What are you going to do? Whine at me for the rest of my life? Call me bad names? Or stab me with a spoon?”
“Not a spoon, no.”
I reach down and scoop up a fistful of snow.
“I’m starting to like this idea. I might even make the chains gold. I think gold would suit your skin. You’d be my very pretty prisoner. If you’re nice to me, I might even bring you a book to read.”
He’s striding along in front of me as if he owns the forest. A smug, insufferable asshole who thinks everyone he meets should kiss the ground he walks upon.
The snowball shatters on the back of his head.
Thiago stiffens. Then turns. Slowly.
The second I see the look in his eyes, I bolt.
Back the way we came, floundering in the tracks we made. Too late. Something hooks my foot, and I slam face-first into the snow.
Slow footsteps stalk me. “Look at that. I didn’t even have to run.”
The fucker used his magic.
“If you could ward, then you’d have been able to escape your punishment.” The grin on his face is pure evil as he glides toward me.
“You son of a phooka,” I spit, wiping snow off my face.
The prince rests his hands on his thighs, a merry smile practically begging for my fist. “I could bury you in snow if I choose, and there’s nothing you could do about it.”
“I’m patient, Your Highness. I’d sleep very lightly if I were you.”
“I always sleep lightly,” he replies. “Though you’re quite welcome to join me in bed. I’ll consider any trespass into my bedchamber to be consent. Your plotting may not work out the way you’d like.”
“Fine.”Clambering to my feet, I settle into a defensive stance. “No magic.”