Rise of Fire (Reign of Shadows #2)(38)

I crossed my arms. “You think it an eventuality? Does my opinion not matter? Does not yours? What do you wish for, Prince Chasan?”

He didn’t touch me, but I felt him lean in. I felt his warm breath at my forehead, felt the heat radiating off him and knew his taller form was crowding me. “You interest me.”

Because I was so different from everyone else? That’s what he’d told me last. “Because I’m blind?” I asked, challenge in my voice.

“That’s only one part of you. I wish to know you better, Luna. Explore all parts of you.” His voice dropped, and heat slapped my face. Why did it sound like he was talking about something physical? “Are you opposed to that notion?” he continued in that purring voice. “Should we not at least grow better acquainted?”

“Yes, I could . . . tolerate that.” What else could I say? No, I’m plotting escape.

“Try not to sound too enthused.” He chuckled. “You’re very good. This is yours. Keep it.” He thrust the bow and shaft of arrows at me.

“For me?” I smoothed my hand over the polished wood, following the arch in admiration.

“Why not? You’re one of the few people who actually knows how to use it.” Almost to prove his words, another arrow was released. The shooter aimed too low and it skimmed along the ground, too close to bystanders if the sudden yelps and squawks were any indication.

“Thank you,” I said, hugging the bow and shaft of arrows close to my side.

“It’s nothing. Hardly a gift. At least not the type of present one gives to his betrothed.”

I managed a tense smile, marveling at the ease with which he accepted me as his future wife. Maybe because that’s all he ever did—follow his father’s commands.

Someone else arrived in our midst, his staccato steps stopping beside the prince. His voice was low but not inaudible to my ears. “The hunt master would like a word with you.” The servant’s steps receded, leaving us alone again. As alone as we could be on a rooftop full of people.

“You’re going out there,” I murmured. “To hunt dwellers?”

“It’s what I do.”

“I don’t understand. Why? It seems an unnecessary risk.”

“I don’t have to travel as far from the castle as I used to, to find them. More of them are coming closer to Ainswind, risking the rock terrain. After all these years, there are fewer of us for them to hunt. They’re getting bolder.” I sensed his shrug. “They need eliminating.”

“I did not think your father wanted you to leave the protection of these walls, and yet you go out on these hunts.”

“He doesn’t like it, but he accepts that I’m good at it. I haven’t died doing it yet,” he joked.

“That’s the qualification for being ‘good’ at something?” I snorted. “Sensible.”

Suddenly my fingers were seized as he lifted my hand. Dry, cool lips brushed the backs of my knuckles. “I’ll see you this evening at dinner, Luna. We can continue our conversation then.”

An invisible band squeezed around my chest. I didn’t want another conversation with him. I didn’t want to be here for another day.

I managed to nod my agreement. He grazed his thumb over my knuckles once in a lingering stroke before letting go of my hand. I listened as his tread faded away, and released a relieved breath.

Everyone continued to step up and try their hand at shooting. Over laughter and applause, I slipped away, leaving the courtyard behind. Since my bedchamber door was guarded at night, my best chance to see Fowler was now. I hurried down winding steps, but my departure wasn’t missed for long. The servant who had escorted me to the courtyard called out above me. My panicked heart jerked in my chest.

Once I hit the corridor floor, I broke into a run, determined to lose my escort. Clutching my bow in one hand, my other skimming the wall to keep my bearings, I turned down the hall. My fingers brushed a thick wall hanging, and I tucked myself behind the tapestry and held still, holding my breath, listening as my escort rushed past. Certain that she was gone, I slipped out from behind the hanging and started down corridor after corridor, pausing at doors to listen.

I passed my bedchamber and kept going, assuming Fowler would be in the same wing. A prince betrothed to the king of Lagonia’s daughter wouldn’t be relegated to anything less than a bedchamber in the royal household.

I had to see Fowler. It was more than assuring myself of his well-being. Selfishly, I needed to see him for me. I needed to hear his voice. I needed to tell him what was happening and hear him tell me that there was a way out of this—that he had no intention of marrying Maris. That we could escape together. Fowler had always been that for me. My comfort when things seemed lost and at their darkest.

Laughter trickled through a door to my left and I stopped, pressing my palms to the thick wood. Leaning in, I flattened my ear to the door and listened. Instantly, I recognized the deep rumble of Fowler’s voice.

My heart leaped. He was awake and talking. My hand moved for the latch, eager to burst inside and touch him, to feel the proof of him alive under my fingertips. His betrayal seemed a long time ago. The shock had ebbed, and I’d begun to think about how it must feel for Fowler to born to a man as awful as Cullan. He was a victim of birth. As was I: born amid a moment of chaos, my parents lost to me before I ever knew them. The sins of his father weren’t his. Fowler could have told me the truth, but I hadn’t told him who I was until someone else had guessed it.