Page 40 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

I should tell him now, tell him to leave me be, that I don’t want his advances, but for some reason that I can’t explain, I hold my tongue. Instead, I nod and turn away, retracing my steps and heading back into the castle.

Hearing a hurried set of footsteps behind me, I glance over my shoulder to see Jacob striding towards me, his charming smile in place as he offers me his arm.

“Let me escort you, we are going to the same place, after all.” My heart flutters in my chest as he links my arm with his, that ever-present blush reappearing on my cheeks with the contact.

“I’m supposed to meet—”

As if just thinking about the mage had summoned him, Grayson strides around the corner, stopping in his tracks as he sees me with the prince, his eyes going straight to our linked arms. All of a sudden, my skin feels like it’s alive, every nerve ending alight as a wave of dizziness overtakes me. Closing my eyes, I take a moment to centre myself before opening them again, only to see myself linking arms with the prince.

What in the underworld is going on?Perhaps I’m coming down with a fever and it’s making me delirious. Raising my hand to my head, I try to feel my skin to test if I have a temperature, except my hand doesn’t move.

Why is she with him? She’s blushing, I bet he’s working his charm on her. She wouldn’t be so close to him if she knew the truth.The thoughts keep coming, except they aren’tmythoughts. Distinctly masculine, they feel familiar.She looks so beautiful in the dress. Who are you kidding, she always looks beautiful, even in those rags the first day you found her.

Grayson. These are Grayson’s thoughts. I’m in his head. In a panic, I fling myself against his mind, hurling myself back into my own body. What just happened?

Looking between the two men, I’m relieved to see that neither of them look suspicious, especially not Grayson who is just scowling at the prince.

“Clarissa,” he greets me, his voice cold but polite. “Prince Jacob.” Acknowledging me before the prince would be a whipable offence if it was anyone else other than Grayson, but being a high mage has its advantages. Shuffling my feet awkwardly, I glance between them.

“High Magician,” Jacob replies, with barely concealed dislike, before turning to me with a bright smile that promises all sorts of trouble. “It’s been a pleasure, Lady Clarissa, I look forward to seeing you at the ball tonight. Perhaps you’ll save me a dance?”

He doesn’t give me time to respond before taking my hand in his and raising it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against my skin before scowling at Grayson and striding away. Watching his back as he leaves, I contemplate asking him to take me with him rather than having to deal with a now grumpy Grayson.

“What did he want?”

Flinching at the malice in his voice, I step back, putting some space between us, not that he notices, his narrowed eyes are still locked on the retreating prince. I debate not telling him, but I know that will only make him think we were discussing him.

“He was telling me a story about the Queen’s Courtyard.” This pulls his attention back to me, but his frown is still in full force. Before he can launch a barrage of questions regarding what we discussed, I decide to give him some of his own medicine. He seems to respond better to direct questions, so that’s what I’ll do. “What is your problem with him?”

Surprisingly, his defensive posture droops and he lets out a sigh, rubbing a hand across his tanned face. Closing the distance between us, he places a hand on my arm and starts to lead me through the corridor back towards the main part of the castle.

“The magicians and the royals have a bit of a tenuous relationship.”

Confusion rolls through me. How is it a tenuous relationship when they work together against the elves? “But you fight for our safety. The magicians protect us, protect the kingdom.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.”

Frowning, I know there’s more to this story than what he’s telling me, but we’re entering the more heavily frequented partsof the castle now. Ladies gathered in giggling groups seem to be around every corner, the short journey to the dining hall taking much longer than it should as we have to keep stopping to greet them. I can tell he’s just as frustrated by the slow going as I am from his tight smile and polite tone his voice takes on as he greets them with his aloof, high magician mask. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel slightly smug that he lets that mask down around me, not that I’d ever let him know that.

Eventually, we reach the hall and I can hear the buzzing of many voices echoing from the large arched roof. Anxiety lines my stomach as we pause at the huge wooden doors. Glancing up at Grayson, I give him a questioning look, which he returns with a smile.

“I’m just giving you a chance to prepare yourself. Whenever we are around large groups of people you tend to get this startled rabbit expression and you glance around as if looking for somewhere to hide.”

“Oh…” Frowning, I pull my gaze from his, looking down at the stone floor. This is not good. I’m supposed to be a lady. If people notice me acting that way, they are going to start trying to search for answers. My eyes lock onto my free arm which is crossing my body to rest on Grayson’s forearm where it’s linked with mine. The cuffs of the dress hide my slave marks, but I can almost feel them burning on my skin, making themselves known, a constant reminder.

“Don’t worry, it’s subtle. I only notice because I watch you—”

“You watch me?” My head snaps around to Grayson once more, and his eyes widen slightly as he realises what he’s said.

“Well...Yes. I mean, you know—because the Great Mother tasked me with your protection.”

A smile curls my upper lip as I watch him bumble through his words, so unlike the strong, sure high magician he usually is. Ignoring the small pang in my chest at the implication thatthe only reason he’s with me now is because he was told to be, I simply force a chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Grayson. I’m under no illusions that you harbour any desire for me.”

“Why would you say that?” His voice is carefully neutral, a simple, light question, but I can feel his eyes on me waiting for my response.

“You’re a high magician,” I explain, surprised that he really needs me to spell it out for him. Looking around, I’m suddenly aware that there are other people milling about the doors and that anyone could hear us. Nodding towards an alcove, I lead him away from the entrance, lowering my voice once we reach it. “You would never want an ex-slave as a romantic partner.”

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