Page 58 of Tarnished Crown

“I--”

“You. Don’t. Know. Anything,” he repeated, biting each word off more forcefully this time. “And if you could bring yourself to display even incrementally more sense than you have in the past, you will remember that.”

A sharp rap on the door interrupted us, one of the soldiers saying we should go before we lost more daylight. Evander crossed the floor until he was directly in front of me, so close I could practically feel the fury radiating off of him.

I froze, refusing to give up my ground, even as he reached toward me, even as his hand came perilously close to my waist, his fingers brushing against my side.

His breath was coming in angry huffs while mine didn’t seem to be coming at all. Something that felt almost like fear, but just a shade more dangerous, danced down my spine.

Then Evander’s hand closed around the door handle, and he twisted it.

I had no real choice but to move or be shoved out of the way as he pulled the door open, so I reluctantly stepped aside.

He stormed down the stairs, sending Kirill up to watch over me as I hurriedly packed my own things. When we finally made it to the stables, I headed directly toward the horse I had ridden before, but Samu stopped me.

His features were pinched in disgust, and he closed his hand around my wrist like he thought I was at risk of escaping.

“Why does the prisoner take such liberties?” he asked Evander. “Surely she is not given her own horse.”

“Because she’s a hindrance to the movement of any man whose saddle she rides on,” Evander answered. “At a time when there is more Unclanned activity than usual.”

“We have plenty of men now,” the guard said. He kept his tone respectful, but was pointed, nonetheless.

Evander sighed. “I don’t care where she rides, Samu.”

“Artyom,” Samu called. “Take the Princess.”

A man nearly as big as Kirill nodded, leering openly at me. I forced myself to stand my ground, to not show any discomfort or fear, even though that man’s lap was the last place I wanted to spend the next few days.

It wasn’t as though I had a choice, and I got the feeling he would enjoy my unhappiness a little too much.

“No,” Evander barked, unapologetically contradicting himself. “She can ride with Taras.”

I tried to hide the relief coursing through me.

To think, I might have complained about being the uptight man’s companion only a few hours ago. I thought he might protest, but Taras surprised me by stepping closer without hesitation. He helped me onto his saddle almost protectively, even ensuring he stood between the men and me to block off their view as I was mounting.

Perhaps that butt contest award had softened him.

Or perhaps, like me, he now realized that I was not a threat to Evander. To anyone.

I was just a prisoner with rapidly dwindling hope of ever being anything else.

The next few days passed with interminable slowness.

There was no conversation or drinking games with the men. Everyone kept their eyes forward and their backs straight. When it came to stopping for the night, only brief words were exchanged while rations were passed around from one person to the next.

Even Kirill said little, though he and Taras slept on either side of me each night.

Evander hadn’t uttered a single word to me since we left the cabin. No barbed remarks. No thinly veiled condescension. Just icy silence.

Everything felt cold and dark and bleak, and it wasn’t just the impending snowstorm headed our way. It was deeper than that. Something sank down into my bones that I couldn’t shake, that I couldn’t laugh my way through.

I missed Theo. I missed Davin. I missed home.

It occurred to me that I was more alone than I had ever been, more lost. I still had no answers about whether Evander or his father or someone else was pulling the strings.

And then there was Lady Mairi.