Page 16 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

“Dashing? Irresistible?” He interjects, voice light with humor.

And he dares to mock me, too?

My frown deepens. “Incredibly aggravating,” I retort, before storming into the tent.

Asheros chuckles behind me.

I head to the corner on my side of the tent, intending to stay as far away from him as possible. Why I let this male get under my skin is beyond me. He’s the only one in the realm with the unique ability to muddle my mind.

It seems Asheros does have some common sense because he doesn’t comment. Seemingly unbothered by me, he prepares his bedroll and pulls back the blankets so he can lie down. Lying flat on his back, he lets out a soft exhale and rests his head on his palms.

I do my best not to notice the way it makes his forearms and chest flex, suppressing the blush I feel stinging my cheeks.

What in the gods’ names is wrong with me?

I can’t let myself get distracted. That was the first thing Ceren taught me when I started training. Distraction leads to sloppiness. Sloppiness gets people killed.

“Out there, beyond the castle walls, your enemy will want you to be distracted,” Ceren had said to my group of trainees. “Out there, in the heat of battle, distraction is lethal. Listen closely, because the most important thing I can ever teach you is this: don’t, under any circumstances, lose focus.”

Whatever it is that makes me react to Asheros this way, is a test. A test of focus. Because that’s all Asheros Larmanne is.

A distraction.

Willing my body to shed the heat that lingers on my skin, I lie down on my bedroll, turning on my side so that my back faces Asheros, then pull the woolen blanket over myself. I close my eyes and clear my mind. I have no intention of going to sleep.

This is my window of opportunity to escape.

The longer I stay here, the more distracted I’ll be. I can’t have that. I have responsibilities. Matters of grave importance that I need to attend to. Staying here isn’t an option.

Not when Viridian’s crown and his fragile peace hang in the balance.

Inhaling deeply, I slow my breathing to make it seem like I’ve fallen asleep. I wait a few moments, listening closely for movement. Asheros’s own breathing falls into an even rhythm, and judging by the lack of rustling I hear, he won’t be moving any time soon.

I wait, the time stretching until I’m sure he’s asleep.

Now’s my chance.

I open my eyes, lingering a moment for my eyesight to adjust to the darkness surrounding me. Careful not to make a sound, I pull my blanket back, placing it down gently.

So far, so good.

Touching my fingers to my bedroll, I lift myself onto my feet. My torso is curled over my knees, in a crouched position. Of course, the tent is void of weapons. The bastard. All the same, I could end him with my bare hands alone. Yet without evidence of his treachery, all I’d do is potentially start a war. Killing him now isn’t an option.

But escape is.

I pause again to make sure I haven’t woken Asheros.

I glance at him. Still breathing evenly, he hasn’t moved, and his eyes are closed.

Adrenaline courses through my veins, powering my movements. I rise from a crouch, though I don’t extend to my full height. Keeping my knees bent, I advance, moving toward the front of the tent.

“It’s in your best interest to get some rest, Bladesinger.”

Asheros’s voice stops me in my tracks.

I look over my shoulder at him. He hasn’t moved at all—still lying with his hands behind his head. He hasn’t even opened his eyes.

“Gods-damn it,” I curse under my breath.

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