A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(32)

I’d keep your secret too, Hawk.

Hawk.

He was never afraid of me because I wasn’t a swordsman. I was a stable hand, and then an outlaw, and then a reluctant prince.

He’s grown into himself so much here that I’d forgotten that.

“Does he want out of the army?” I say to Noah quietly.

“If you asked him that, I think you’d break his heart.”

I look at him in surprise, and Noah adds, “He’s worried he’ll disappoint you.”

I glance at the window. Across the field, Jake and Tycho have taken up sparring positions, their shadows long in the fading light. Men like Solt will rely on strength instead of speed, and sometimes it makes them lazy and overconfident. Tycho never takes anything for granted, and I watch it play out in his skills whenever he’s on the field. It’s part of why he earned respect from the other recruits. He’s willing to risk his life in this war, and he demonstrates it every day. And not because he believes in Syhl Shallow or my right to rule. Because he believes in me.

“Tycho has never disappointed me,” I say.

“Maybe he needs to know that.”

I think on that for a moment, unsure what to say. I feel like I am failing in so many ways here.

A hand raps on the doorjamb, and an older woman with deep brown skin hesitates in the doorway. I recognize her as one of the shop owners in the city who does metal work. Her eyes flick from Noah to me. “Healer,” she says in Syssalah. She extends her hand, which is wrapped in wet cloth. She says something else, but I only recognize the words for burn and forge.

Noah can fix a lot of ailments, but a bad burn will ache for weeks and likely scar. “I can help you,” I say, but she draws her arm back against her body warily.

“Nah,” she says, shaking her head. “Nah runiah.”

No magic. I frown.

Noah speaks to her, and his tone is comforting, reassuring. He glances at me. “I’m not useless yet,” he says.

His tone is wry, but there’s an undercurrent to his words that I can’t quite parcel out.

I inhale to ask what he means, but he’s frowning at the woman, trying to ask her questions and understand her answers in broken Syssalah. I quietly move toward the door, and the woman looks relieved that I’m leaving.

“Hey, Grey,” Noah calls after me, and I hesitate in the hallway.

“For the record,” he says, “you’ve never disappointed us, either.”

“Do not judge too soon,” I call back, but he’s already lost to his patient, and my words drift on unheard, while his words lodge in my heart, both a reassurance and a reminder.

I have an hour until dinner, so I tighten the buckles on my breastplate and head out to join Jake and Tycho.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LIA MARA

My afternoon drones on, and I find myself looking at the windows more often than not. It’s difficult to be still, sitting attentively while advisors and representatives from my Royal Houses talk about our preparations for war. It’s impossible to focus on grain stores and the late harvest when my brain wants to fix on every glimmer in someone’s hand. The palace feels claustrophobic, as if I could be trapped in a hallway with assassins hiding behind every door, while the training fields left me feeling vulnerable and exposed. I don’t like either option. I’m relieved when I can retire to my quarters to dress before dinner.

My room has always been a sanctuary, and it’s no different now. I send for a tray of hot tea and lock myself inside, curling onto the chaise longue by the window. I used to hide here and read when I grew bored of court politics and my mother’s machinations.

Or rather, I used to strategically position myself here. The thought makes me smile. I can see Grey from my window. He seems to have found Tycho, because they’re sparring with Jake in the fading light.

But as I watch, the smile slides off my face. I was unprepared for the tension between him and the soldiers, especially the officers. A year of military service is mandatory in Syhl Shallow, but many of the men and women on the field have made a career of it. It was once considered an honor.

Few of the people I saw today seemed to consider it an honor anymore.

I don’t know if that’s because of me, or because of Grey. Or because of us both.

A knock sounds at my door, and I jump, my heart pounding hard against my ribs. I have to remind myself that an assassin wouldn’t knock, and my guards wouldn’t let many people get that far anyway. It’s probably the tea I just requested.

Either way, it takes me a moment to call, “Enter.”

My sister breezes through the door almost before I say the word, letting the heavy wood panel close behind her. She’s still wearing her armor and weapons from the training fields, but somehow she wears them more elegantly than the gauzy belted robes we wear at court. Her hair gleams in its braids, her cheeks still pink from the chill in the air outside.

“I’ve been waiting to talk to you all afternoon,” she says. “You should have let Grey make that man fight until he was coughing blood on his boots. Mother would have.”

As if I don’t compare my failings to my mother’s victories every second of every day. “Hello, my dear sister,” I say tersely. “Please, do not hesitate to speak freely.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “What are you doing in here? I thought you were meeting with the advisors about the food stores for the winter.”