The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(32)

Eying him skeptically, I took it, removing the ribbon and pulling off the lid. The scent of orange flooded the carriage in a flurry of powdered sugar. He’d gotten me a box of orange cakes from the House Cyro cart at the canal.

I stared at the cakes, then at him, entirely caught off guard. “What game are you playing?”

“No game. Can’t a man buy his fiancée a present?”

“A man, yes. A cold-blooded snake, not so much.”

He laughed, the sound like needles of ice prickling my skin. “And here I was trying to be nice. I can do that on occasion, you know.”

I closed the box and set it aside. “Are you saying you’re not normally a prick?”

“Oh no, I am. Just usually a more charming one.”

I snorted. “If by charming, you mean arrogant.”

“If by arrogant, you mean extremely capable, then yes, we agree.”

I stared flatly at him. “Is this your attempt at a truce? Because you’re failing miserably.”

He smiled back, draping himself along the bench like a sunning cat. “Do you hate me because I’m Illucian?”

“I hate you for a lot of reasons.”

His lips twitched. “Fair enough, but perhaps I’m not so bad as you think.”

“You’re right,” I replied. “You’re worse.”

“Come now, Princess. I was just having a little fun.” He leaned forward, his pale gaze trapping me like a specimen for study in a glass case. “What better way to learn about my fiancée than to push you to the edge and see how you reacted?” His voice turned teasing. “People are their truest selves at their most desperate.”

My face flushed with heat. “My truest self wants to throw you out of this carriage and let the horses trample you.”

He laughed, sprawling back in his seat once more. “Part of you likes this game as much as I do, or you wouldn’t be so quick to play it with me.”

“This isn’t a game!” I snapped. It was so much more than that, not that he cared.

The amusement in Ericen’s face faltered. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he looked confused. As if he hadn’t expected me to get genuinely angry.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “This was meant to be a peace offering. Clearly, I’ve handled it miserably. The last thing I want is for you to hate me. We are, after all, engaged.”

Engaged. The word settled around my shoulders like a scarf, one twist away from strangling me.

“What do you want?” I asked.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “To start over.”

I didn’t know how to respond. This had to be part of his game. Maybe he’d seen he couldn’t break me, so now he wanted to manipulate me. I met his gaze, reading the sincerity behind it. It meant nothing. A day ago, he’d been equally as convincing in his malice.

He let the conversation drop after that, and I was grateful. I didn’t know how to react to this strange attempt at civility. Liar, my instincts screamed. Murderer. Illucian. But my curiosity demanded I see everything. His smile, his wonder at the crows, his guard mocking him for being distraught over the Jin man’s fake death.

It’s all a game to him, I reminded myself. Those moments had been like everything else about him: carefully calculated to elicit a specific response. Whatever reason he had for playing nice—well, his approximation of nice—it was for his own gain and nothing more. Anyone who could shift through emotions like masks couldn’t be trusted.

And soon, I’d be surrounded by an entire kingdom just like him.

*

The days passed quickly, during which Ericen and my conversations remained mostly limited to bouts of verbal sparring. He couldn’t seem to resist the urge to dig his claws under my skin, but it was different than before. His words were playful and teasing, not the vicious cuts he’d inflicted in Rhodaire. Part of me reveled in the challenge.

In moments of silence, I planned. My first goal in Illucia would be to secure some measure of autonomy. I would need a hobby or a friend, something no one would question when I left the castle.

We camped rather than stop in towns for lodging, and I noticed that though Ericen sat with his men, he rarely spoke to them. In the free hours before and after dinner, Kiva and I would slip away to train. A short run followed by sparring and weapons training that made my body ache.

It’d been too long since I’d exercised, too long since I’d held my bow in my hands. Each maneuver and shot, technique and drill, threatened to make me think of Estrel. My wrist felt empty without her bracelet, but I sealed the memories away and pushed harder. In a kingdom of bloodthirsty soldiers, I had to be able to defend myself.

On the fourth day, we reached the border.

I heard the army before I saw it. Voices echoed across the camp, intermixing with the whinny of horses and the clatter of metal. My nails dug into my palms, and I forced my hands to relax. Ericen claimed we were only going to stop for fresh horses, but even a breath was too long a time spent surrounded by banners of blue and gold.

Don’t look out the window.

Calls went up as the carriage broke through the first line of tents. I could feel Ericen’s eyes on me. My own bore into the corner of the carriage, colors flashing at the edges of my vision as the camp flew by.

“We’ll be quick,” he said.