It shouldn’t have been an issue. Yet I couldn’t bear the thought of exposing her to our king—of letting anyone know where to strike to wound me beyond repair. “I plan to talk to her myself.” For whatever Aster might know and however she’d heard of the war that had resulted in her return to Vordane, I had faith that she would eventually tell me.

Fang was quiet for a half minute. Then carefully, he murmured, “He does care, you know. He wouldn’t harm her.” He paused. “He wouldn’t harm you, either. No matter what he discovered.”

That remained to be seen, for we certainly couldn’t hide this forever.

“When are you going to finally realize that not everyone is untrustworthy?” Fang asked, exasperated. “You’ve known and served Dade for nearly two decades now.”

Indeed, I’d known the king almost as long as I’d known Fang. But although Fang knew my past was to blame for the way I was, he still didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure how to make him.

Smoke puffed from the chimney of the cottage through the trees, luring my feet toward it. “Just keep it quiet until I figure everything out.”

TWENTY-THREE

Aster

Scythe had returned from working with his legion mere minutes before there was another beating upon the door to his cottage the following evening.

We both glanced at the shaken wood, and Scythe cursed. He looked at me with his lip between his teeth, then at the door again. “I have to,” is all he said before walking rigidly to it.

I frowned at his unusual display of fear as he hesitated before turning the handle.

“Dinner,” a short and beautiful brunette said. “Thirty minutes.” She crouched to catch a glimpse of me beneath Scythe’s arm. “Hello there.” A warm smile lasted only a moment. “I’ll be expecting you, too.”

Scythe said nothing in return. He closed the door when she left and stared at it, tense and expelling a violent, “Fuck.”

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or demand to know who she was, so I did both. “Who was that?”

“Mariana,” he said.

Oh.

I rubbed my lips, watching Scythe attempt to compose himself. “Seems to me like you might be in a touch of trouble.”

“Your fault.” He smirked when he crossed the room to where I remained in the armchair. Gripping it, he leaned down and whispered to my mouth, “Best get that gown back on and help me out of it.”

He left me dazed and more nervous than I’d felt in months. The heady feelings made me smile as I slipped back into the gown I’d mercifully washed while Scythe had been carrying out his duties for the day.