Cyrus hopped up and down to get his blood flowing and fight off the chill air.

“Don’t care. Still doing it.”

She stared at him, and he sensed an inner debate he was not privy to, but it ended as rapidly as it began.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s do this, then. No mercy. I won’t wait for you when you fall behind.”

Not “if,” but “when.” Cyrus used those words to fuel his stubbornness. He let Thorda’s words ignite his rage at his own feebleness.

He merely needs to be good enough.

“The last thing I want is mercy,” he said. “And if you slow down for me, I swear, I will be angry with you.”

“Have no worries, little prince. I slow down for no one.”

Cyrus managed seven miles before he collapsed to his knees and vomited bile and air upon the dirt. True to her word, Stasia did not wait, and did not slow. Still, Cyrus was encouraged. As awful as he felt, he clung to one simple, undeniable fact: Seven was better than six.

CHAPTER 13

MARI

Mari paced the midnight halls of her father’s countryside mansion, debating a return to her bed for an unlikely sleep, when she passed by the cracked door of the library. Candlelight flickered from within, catching her eye.

“Trouble sleeping?” she asked as she stepped inside. Cyrus was slumped sideways on a padded chair in a manner most unlordlike. He wore loose trousers and a bed shirt, and his hair was a mess. A candle was lit on either side of him, and he held a book high to catch their faint light. She thought he’d be startled by her entrance, but he barely flinched.

“I read when I have trouble sleeping,” he said.

“It seems to me that you’re often reading.”

“I often have trouble sleeping, too. Funny how that works.” He smiled to show his barb was only due to tiredness. He swung his legs around to sit properly in the chair. “Why are you awake right now? Had a few nightmares of your own?”

“Not quite.” She crossed the library to the tiny fireplace. Cyrus had let the fire within die down to faint embers, and she began the rekindling process. It was good to have a task to occupy her hands. “The Lioness has become a part of me, a blessing I would never disparage, but there are the occasional inconveniences. One such inconvenience is that the Lion prefers to hunt at night.”

“The forests around us are full of game. Go grab yourself a rabbit.”

For a brief instant, Mari imagined one between her teeth, and the sensation was so strong, it was like a forgotten memory. Fur parting between sharp teeth. Blood dripping across her tongue.

“Perhaps,” she said. “But you misunderstand the desired prey. While it benefits your training to be so far out, it does leave precious few imperial soldiers to hunt.”