Page 147 of Kingmakers, Year Three

“What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?”

Snow smiles, slowly. “I think you agreed.”

“You were right,” I nod. “I’d do anything for her.”

Snow rests his hand on my shoulder.

“You’re a man now. And that’s what a man does.”

Cat is waitingfor me just outside the gym. She bounces on her toes, her eyes bright and excited.

“There’s an hour left before the wagons leave,” she says. “Want to walk around campus one last time?”

“That sounds ominous,” I tease her. “You’re not planning to take me up on the wall, are you . . . ?”

She smacks my arm.

“Don’tjoke about that!” she hisses at me. “Don’t ever say it out loud. That’s how I?—”

“Shhh,”I say, clamping my hand over her mouth to irritate her all the more. “You’re gonna spill all our secretsagain!”

Cat is ready to kill me for real, but I can’t help it, I’ve always loved the way she looks when she’s furious—eyes glittering, cheeks flaming, body shaking.

“All right, I’m sorry,” I say, releasing her. “Look, there’s nobody around.”

Cat tosses her dark curls. “You better not plan on harassing me all the way home. It’s a long flight to Chicago.”

“Two long flights,” I say. “And a boat ride. But don’t worry, I’ll be pampering you the whole way. Rubbing your shoulders and letting you sleep on my lap . . .”

“Really?” Cat perks up at once, already willing to forgive me for teasing her. “That would be so nice, actually. I can stretch all the way out on two seats . . .”

We’re walking down the annex of the Armory together, down the double row of photographs bearing all the winning Captains ofQuartum Bellumspast, stretching back before the dawn of photography when the portraits were painted or sketched.

“There’s Adrik Petrov,” I say to Cat, pointing to the three photographs of the grinning Adrik, his black hair wild and windswept, his expression ferociously triumphant. “He’s Kade’s older brother.”

In the third photograph, the defeated Captain standing behind him looks battered and miserable, barely able to stand upright. That must have been an awful challenge.

“Oh, I’ve heard of him,” Cat says, pausing to stretch up on tiptoe so she can see the pictures better. “You met him in Moscow?”

“Just briefly,” I say. “I liked him, though.”

“He doesn’t look very nice,” Cat says, doubtfully.

“You don’t like nice,” I growl, slipping my arm around her waist.

Cat leans her body back against mine, arching her back with pleasure.

I stoop to kiss the side of her neck.

She turns all the way round to kiss me long and slow. The sun filters down through the high windows, turning the edge of her face gold. Her mouth is as warm as the sunshine.

When we break apart, I feel light-headed.

Cat leads me further down the hallway, her fingers linked through mine.

“There’s no other Captains that won three years,” she says, examining the photographs. “Barely any that even won twice.”

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