Once they’re gone, I turn my horse in the opposite direction and drive my heels into the animal’s sides.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HARPER
This stings. I feel like I’ve been smacked on the wrist.
Grey sticks to my side, cantering easily along in the slush, and we cover ground quickly. I expected some tension between me and him, especially after the incident with the dagger, but there’s none. He might be ten times more dangerous than Rhen, but he’s a hundred times easier to get along with.
This is all so confusing. Rhen is so confusing. He doesn’t act like a man who’s trying to fall in love. He plays this whole thing like a game, where underneath his pretty words is a man full of cunning and guile. He acts like a tethered animal that’s learned the limits of its chain—but knows how to lure prey to its death.
That is why I don’t trust him.
After the showdown in the snow, I realize he doesn’t trust me, either. Somehow, despite the fact that he trapped me in Emberfall, his distrust seems to run deeper.
When the inn comes into view, I slow the horse to a walk. A glance over my shoulder reveals a blue sky sitting atop a slushy landscape. Rhen is nowhere to be seen.
Grey has slowed to match my pace.
“Would you really have cut off my arm?” I ask.
He gives me a glance. “I would have prevented you from causing harm,” he says.
“So that’s a yes.”
“I follow orders,” he says equably. “I bear you no ill will.”
Somehow that’s completely reassuring, yet not at all. “Where do you think he went?”
He sighs and a shadow of irritation slides into his voice. “You know as much as I.”
As we dismount in the courtyard of the inn, the front door is flung open. Small sections of snow slide from the roof and land with a plop. The horses throw up their heads and snort.
Coale stands in the doorway. “My lady!” he booms in surprise. “You have returned?”
“Yes. I brought …” But I trail off as Rhen’s warnings about riots and skirmishes echo in my ears. “Um …”
“Lady Harper has brought gifts of goodwill,” offers Grey, moving forward to hand me the overloaded saddlebags.
“Oh. Yes. Here.” I’m completely off balance. I thrust them at him awkwardly.
Coale looks dumbfounded.
Evalyn’s voice calls from behind him. “Do we have guests? Why are you—oh, my goodness!” She appears beside her husband and gives a low curtsy. “Lady Harper. You have returned.”
“With gifts,” Coale says numbly.
“It’s nothing.” I feel a blush crawling up my cheek. “It’s just some food. I know we dumped Freya and her family here unexpectedly.”
“But … His Highness paid handsomely for six months’ worth of lodging. It is hardly an inconvenience.”
I’m frozen in place. I didn’t know he’d paid them anything.
Evalyn speaks quickly, misinterpreting my silence. “You must think us greedy. We tried to refuse.” She wrings her hands.
“No! No. I—I misunderstood. I wanted to bring a little something for the kids.”
“Oh!” Her face breaks into a smile. She claps her hands. “You must come in.”
We’re ushered into the front room. The fire is banked and low, embers glowing. I smell baked bread. Coale takes our cloaks and shouts to the back of the inn. “Children! The Lady Harper has returned to see you.”
I move close to Grey. “Did you know he paid that much money?” I whisper under my breath.
He frowns. “You thought otherwise?”
“I didn’t—I didn’t—”
“Lady Harper!” Feet thunder down the steps and across the wooden floor. Three children come running, obvious glee in their faces. Freya descends the steps more slowly, the baby cradled in her arms, but even she is smiling.
I’m not sure I deserve it. Their home was destroyed.
The girl does not stop until she tackles my waist. The two boys tackle Grey’s legs. Their joy is infectious. I’m glad there are frosted cookies in the saddlebags.
Even Bastian comes out of the kitchen, drawn by the commotion. Everyone presses in against the table, eager to see what I’ve brought.
The girl reaches out a hand and traces a fingertip over the yellow stitching, while the older boy pokes at the inlaid jewels on one of the saddlebags. Their brown eyes are wide.
Freya moves to pull them back. “Dahlia. Davin. Don’t touch.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say. “Dahlia can open it.”
Her slender fingers fuss with the buckle, but it finally gives, and wrapped pastries and cheeses roll out onto the table. She laughs with delight. The other children gasp and press in more closely against the table.
“This is too much,” Freya whispers.
It’s barely enough for a meal to feed her family. But silence falls on the room as everyone stares. No one touches anything.
“Look,” whispers the older boy, who must be Davin. “Sweet cakes.”
I feel awkward, like I’ve made a misstep. I find myself wishing for Rhen to work out the politics here, and I want to kick myself because of it.
All of Rhen’s warnings are echoing in my head. “Did I … offend you?” I whisper.
“My lady.” Coale’s voice is heavy. “We have never known royalty to bestow gifts on the people. We are—we are overwhelmed.”
“And grateful,” Evalyn says hurriedly. “So grateful, my lady.”
“Perhaps I should get everyone a nice glass of mead,” Coale booms.
A loud knock sounds at the door, and Evalyn hurries to answer it. When she swings the door open, Rhen stands there, his blond hair shining in the light. He looks none the worse for wear, his cloak and armor hanging perfectly.
“Your Highness,” says Evalyn quickly. “We are doubly honored. Please, come in.”
“You have my thanks.” His voice is mild. He steps across the threshold.
I meet his eyes without meaning to. His eyebrows lift just a fraction, and in that one tiny motion I can tell that he knows I’m flailing, unsure how to proceed. Half an hour ago, I yelled at him, and now there’s a tiny part of me that wants him to rescue me from this situation. I wonder if he planned on it. I wonder if he knows.
I force myself to hold his eyes and stand my ground.
“Coale,” I say. “Mead would be great.”
Rhen and I end up sitting by the fire again. I’ve reclaimed my armchair, and he sits on the stone hearth, sipping from his mug. Grey stands at the edge of the mantel, near the corner, firelight glinting off his weapons.
Rhen hasn’t said one single word to me since entering the inn, aside from a nod and a brief “My lady.”
The air feels prickly and uncertain. The fire crackles behind him, and the children eat and play in the main part of the room, but silence hangs like a woolen blanket strung between us.
The only child with the courage to draw near is little Davin—and he seems fascinated by Grey. He can’t be more than four, with thick hair and large brown eyes, and he keeps sneaking over to peer up at the guardsman. Grey has been immobile, impassively ignoring him. He stands so still that he could be a part of the fireplace.
But when Davin sneaks close and dares to put a hand on Grey’s sword hilt, the swordsman feints as if he’d chase him away.
The boy jumps and darts back a few feet—but then he laughs, full out. Grey smiles and tousles his hair. “Go,” he says, his voice kind but leaving no room for disobedience. “Play.”
Davin scampers off, but a mischievous look over his shoulder says he’ll be back.
I look at Grey, remembering how he made faces at the children in the snow. “You’re good with kids,” I say. “That’s like the most … incongruous thing about you.”
“Is it?” he says, his voice dry. “Truly, my lady?”
“Actually …” I hesitate. Rhen’s eyes are on the room and the people in it, but I know he’s listening t
o every word I say. I turn my attention back to Grey. “Yeah. It is.” I make my voice careful, not wanting to wound. “Do you have children?” I pause. “Did you?”
“No. To enter the Royal Guard, you must forswear family for ten years. A spouse—and children—are a distraction from obligation and duty.”
Evalyn overhears us, and steps toward the hearth. “Is it not the same in the Land of Disi, my lady?”
Oh, right. The Land of Disi.
Rhen is looking at me, his eyebrows raised again, clearly waiting for my answer, too.
“No,” I say, spinning wheels in my head. “It’s not the same. People in the Secret Service can get married and have kids.”
“Ohh.” Her voice is hushed. “The Secret Service. Such a mysterious name.”
“Is it an honor to enter this Secret Service?” asks Coale.
Suddenly I’m the center of attention. “I … guess so?”
“Here, it is considered a great honor to even apply.” Coale stops beside his son, who’s taking a pastry from the platter on the table, and rests his large hands on the boy’s shoulders. “And a boon for the family if the child is admitted to the Royal Guard. We never dared to hope that Bastian might one day be considered, but perhaps things are changing for the better.”
“There are certainly roles to fill,” says Grey.
Rhen cuts him a sharp look. “Commander.”
“There are?” says Evalyn, with wonder in her voice. “Then indeed there is hope for change.” She smiles at me.
I swallow. She thinks I will bring change. With some engagement to align Emberfall with a country that doesn’t exist. If the only hope for these people is for me to fall in love with Rhen, then they ran out of hope the very minute I swung at Grey with that crowbar.
“I don’t want to fight the monster,” says Bastian. His father hushes him.
Freya looks up from her baby. “Perhaps the monster will be vanquished before you come of age,” she offers hopefully. “If the Lady Harper’s people can lend their forces to ours.”
“Tell us, my lady,” says Evalyn. “Does the creature terrorize your lands as well?”
I glance at Rhen, unsure how to move forward from here.
He looks back at me. “Yes. Do tell us.”
“No monster in my lands,” I say breezily. Then I look into my mug and take a long sip, just to avoid the need to say more. It burns my throat all the way down.
“Is your country a long journey away?” says Coale. “I admit, I have never heard of Disi, though it has been so long since we’ve housed travelers from outside Emberfall.”
“I’m not really sure of the exact distance,” I say. “It seems I got here in a flash.”
A knock sounds at the door. “Innkeeper!” a man yells from outside.
“More guests?” says Evalyn. She smooths her skirts. “So unusual this early in the season.” She gives me a smile. “You bring us luck, my lady.”
Coale moves to the door and throws it open. “Gentlemen! Welcome—”
The joy in his voice dies. I can’t see much around his form, but I can see booted feet. The ends of sheathed swords. Five men. At least.
I’m on my feet without realizing it. Rhen moves to stand beside me, and Grey moves in front of us both. A hand rests on his sword hilt, but he hasn’t drawn a weapon yet.
“Welcome,” Coale finishes uneasily. His form blocks most of the doorway. “Are you in need of rooms? We have one available, if you are willing to share—”
“We are here to seize this property for the crown.”
“To seize this property?” Coale takes a step back. “We pay taxes every season to the Grand Marshal. We owe nothing—”
“You have one hour to vacate.”
Coale gasps. “That’s ludicrous! This is our home!”
The man steps forward menacingly. “You will leave, or your home will burn.”
Evalyn moves closer to me and Rhen. “I assure you, Your Highness,” she whispers quickly. “We pay every season. There surely is some mistake—”
“These men do not work for me,” says Rhen, his voice low.
“They wear the same colors as those men yesterday,” says Grey.
Rhen glances at him, then moves forward, toward Coale.
“Children,” Freya whispers quickly. Fear is alive in her voice. “Children, go to our room.” They scurry toward the staircase.
“Move aside, innkeeper,” growls the man at the door. “If you will not leave willingly, we will leave you in a pile of ash.”
Coale does not move. “You will not threaten my family—”
“I said, move.” The man draws his sword and all but pushes his way inside. “Gather your things and go.”
Beside Rhen, Grey moves to draw his weapon, but Rhen gives a brief shake of his head.
Four others follow the first man, and they crowd into the entranceway. They wear dark clothes trimmed in green and black and silver, like the men from last night. Their expressions are fierce and uncompromising. Hard-edged.
Their eyes search the room. They stop when they find Rhen and Grey, and I see two of the men exchange a glance.
I recognize one of them. It’s the man who ran last night. He leans in to the leader of the group and whispers something low.
The lead man’s eyes linger on Freya for a moment, but when he hears whatever his compatriot whispers, his eyes shift to me, then to Grey, but he finally stops on Rhen. “Who are you?”
Rhen takes a step forward. “Lord Vincent Aldrhen, Prince of Emberfall, son of Broderick, King of the Eastern Lands.” His eyes narrow. “A better question is, who are you?”
The man spits on the floor. “The prince is dead.” The men behind him chuckle.
Evalyn gasps and clasps a hand to her chest.
Rhen smiles, but there is nothing friendly about it. “I assure you, I am very much alive.” He pauses and his voice sharpens. “And you will leave these good people in peace.”
“If you’re the prince, where is your guard? Your entourage?” The man glances around the room, stopping on me this time. “This land will be under the rule of Karis Luran soon enough. I’ll take what I came for.” He steps forward. “Burn it. Kill them all.”
Rhen’s hand falls on the hilt of his own sword.
“Wait.” I lift my chin and put a hand on his forearm.
Loan sharks once came to the door, looking for my father. He was long gone. I was younger, but I wasn’t stupid enough to miss the glint of light on steel under one of the men’s jackets. My mother sweet-talked them and offered cookies and coffee. I still remember her fingers shaking as she lifted the coffeepot.
Apparently honey really does catch more flies than vinegar, because the men believed her when she said her husband was traveling on business, and she was just the silly wife, left home with the children, ignorant of her husband’s bad debts.
I can’t fight, but I know how to bluff.
I step forward. “You would dare threaten the first daughter to the King of Disi?” Without waiting for an answer, I turn to face Rhen, who’s looking at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You never specified that your lands are under control of another monarch. This was to be an alliance. When I alert my father, his armies will waste no time in seizing this territory—”
“What armies?” says the man. He sounds suspicious, but he stops the others from moving farther into the inn. “Who are you?”
“I am Princess Harper of Disi,” I announce. “You have not heard of me? My kingdom’s soldiers number in the thousands.”
“Per regiment,” Rhen adds quickly. “We look forward to combining our forces with Disi’s legendary army.”
“Yes, per regiment. Obviously.” I almost falter. “And my father has hundreds of regiments—”
“Dozens,” says Rhen.
“Yes, dozens of regiments, and they stand ready to invade Emberfall on my order if this alliance fails—”
“What alliance?” says the man. He sounds exaspera
ted. “Who—what is—where is Disi?”
“You are in no position to make demands.” I fill my voice with steel and fire, remembering the way those men talked about Freya and little Dahlia. “I have already sent word to my father about the men who threatened me last night. You will identify yourselves, and then you will leave these people. I wish to know the names of the men my father will execute first. In fact, I believe I would enjoy watching.”
The man hesitates.
Rhen seizes the moment. “Princess Harper,” he says to me. “These men are clearly following orders. No harm has been done here today. Surely there must be a misunderstanding. Allow them time to return to their general before beginning an international incident.”
The man’s eyes narrow.
Rhen leans closer to me. “Have mercy, my lady. I know your soldiers are said to enjoy tearing men limb from limb, but—”
“Goodness,” Evalyn gasps. “The Secret Service sounds positively vicious.”
The man meets my eyes. He’s not an idiot. “I don’t believe you. We will burn this inn to the ground, girl.”
I hold his gaze and refuse to look away. “Commander Grey. Prove how serious I am.”
Grey’s hand flicks out. The man shouts and drops to the ground. The hilt of a knife protrudes from his knee.
Whoa. I have no idea what I expected him to do, but that’s even better.
The man is screaming hoarsely. Blood seeps around the dagger, slowly staining his pant leg. His men shuffle and look confused, glancing from their leader to me, and then to Grey. None have drawn a weapon.
There’s a sword in Grey’s hand now. “Shall I remove his leg for you, my lady?”
“Yes,” I say. “A trophy for my father.”
Grey steps forward without hesitation. I suck in a breath. I think he might actually do it.
“No!” the man yells. “No!” He glares back at his men. “Help me, curse you! Get me out of here!”
They hustle to drag him out. “The queen will hear of this!” he yells. “Mark my words, our queen will—”
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