Wild Knight (Midnight Empire: The Tower #1)(60)

“Let her stay,” Briar said softly. “If it’s as bad as you say, we’ll need to leave someone behind who knows the full story.” She looked at Callan. “It has to be a knight.”

The vampire didn’t argue.

Minka looked helplessly at the prince. “What about the royal army?”

“House Lewis needs to keep this quiet for political reasons,” Callan said. “If our guards run riot over Westerham Heights, word will get back to our enemies.”

“I’ll get my bow from the armory,” Neera said.

“Grab mine too,” Ione called.

Stevie cracked her knuckles. “I think this druid will look just right with a sword through the belly.”

Callan’s gaze swept the room of enthusiastic knights. “You’re a violent lot, aren’t you?” He tugged my elbow and pulled me closer. “Davina is safe, you know. That was the job. You don’t have to do this.”

I couldn’t tell him about fears related to the stone—or to him.

I also couldn’t lie.

“The queen asked for the stone.”

“So she did.”

I yanked away my elbow. “So I’m doing this.”

His green eyes locked on mine and I felt a pulse of energy travel down my spine. “You don’t have to wait until we’ve survived to ask me out, you know. Now is as good a time as any.”

I recoiled. “You think I want to ask you out?”

“It’s a natural response to imminent death. You fear you won’t survive and you want something to keep you going in your darkest moment.”

I snorted. “And you think a date with you would be enough to pull me from the jaws of death?”

He simply stared back at me with an amused grin.

My mouth opened and closed. I started toward the armory. A cache of weapons would keep me focused on the night’s objective, one that did not involve a date with a vampire.

Callan followed me into the armory and whistled. “You have quite the inventory.”

Swords. Daggers. Crossbows. Even a few pistols.

“How many knights are in your banner?”

“Seven.”

“And you need all these?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes they get lost. Or broken.” Or both.

“Excellent quality. Your friend—Lann, was it?” He touched the blade of the nearest sword. “If it’s a reservation you’re worried about, I’m a prince. I have clout.”

“We’re back on this again? I am not asking you out.”

“No?”

I shook my head adamantly.

“Hmm. Then what is it?”

How did I recover from this?

“Now it’s my turn.”

I blinked. “For what?”

“I have a question.”

“No, I won’t go to dinner with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Fine, but it’s not my question.”

I cast him a sidelong glance. “It isn’t?”

“What’s your favorite dessert?”

My favorite dessert? We were about to take on a group of druids with a powerful magical artifact and he wanted to know about my sweet tooth?

“Chocolate.” I paused. “With cherries.”

He gave a nod of approval. “Decadent.”

“You?”

“I don’t care for dessert.”

I reached for an extra dagger. “Liar. Everybody likes dessert, even if it’s just cheese and apple.”

“Are you calling the Highland Reckoning a liar?”

I drew myself up straight. “I suppose I am.”

“Fine. You’re right. It’s creme brulee.”

“French? How shocking.”

“It’s actually English in origin. Created in Cambridge but given a French name because it sounded better. You’ve never had it?”

I shook my head.

“One more question.”

“You seem awfully chatty,” I observed.

“I’d like to get to know you. I’d like to get to know the woman who saved my sister’s life. Is that so unreasonable?”

He had me there. “I guess not,” I mumbled.

“What’s with you and animals?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He gave me an appraising look. “I think you do. The raven. The dragon. You shouldn’t be embarrassed by it. It’s an enviable skill. House Lewis could’ve used you during the latest werewolf uprising.”

My pulse sped up. “There was a werewolf uprising?”

“It was a joke. The wolves are well in hand.”

I wondered whether the wolf pack would agree.

“Is it magic?”

His question took me off-guard. “You think animals can only like me if magic is involved?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never seen anyone have the effect you do. I find it fascinating.” He paused. “I find you fascinating.”

I suppressed all possible responses.

He hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me close. The move was so unexpected that a gasp escaped me.

Even if I wanted to kiss him, I couldn’t. It would be a betrayal of my species. There was also the vague worry that plagued me whenever I killed a vampire—that I might have just murdered a half-sibling without knowing it. It didn’t stop me from doing what was necessary, but the thought was always in the back of my mind. As unlikely as it was that my mother had once knocked boots with Glendon, the Highland king, I couldn’t wholly dismiss the possibility.