Page 28 of Heir to His Court

After a moment I returned to my bed and tried to rest, alone in my head for once. I liked the solitude no better.

ChapterNine

AGE THIRTEEN

“You are thirteen today,” Raniel says.

His voice implies thirteen is barely a step above zero, but I’ve been in fights and survived. I haven't killed yet. . .give me time.

I fold my arms over my chest. I have one now. It’s not so great, though the boys seem to disagree. Gets in the way at awkward moments.

“I am no longer a child.”

His lips twitch.

I commanded a strike twice—I’m uncertain it counts because Édouard was monitoring both times, and his grouchy attitude ruins everything. I’ve been to Court, and didn’t embarrass my House. The trick seems to be keeping my mouth shut and standing quietly next to Maman and Danon. I’m as tall, and next to their golden beauty, she says I am a wild desert storm, barely checked, and desert storms scourge the weak. She says when I am grown, I will be among be Faronne’s greatest weapons.

“You are notquitea child,” Raniel says. “The half-human daughter of Faronne surviving until thirteen impresses you? It impresses me.”

“You’re easily impressed.”

He’s not. He’s really not. But I’ve been mad at him since he kicked me out of Avallonne, and every chance I get, I’ll express my displeasure in the way that irritates him the most.

Sarcasm.

My sweet Princeloathessarcasm.

I almost smile. He never should have revealed that weakness. I’ll never tire of using it against him.

“My harpy is growing claws.”

“Harpies consider male parts delicacies, right? You better hope I’m not a harpy.”

“You are still displeased with me.”

“No shit.”

“Aerinne. Your language has deteriorated since that human cousin of yours visited.”

I shrug, grudgingly accepting the warning in his voice. It’s true, and I’m not suicidal. He has a bad temper, the kind that detonates withnowarning.

“I don't care about birthdays.”

Aunt Fatma baked me a cake, and Baba promised he would take me to Mombasa when Maman is feeling better. Danon congratulated me for surviving my first assassination attempt this year—children of High Lords are never non combatants—but Édouard only snorted and mumbled ‘barely.’

He's an ass.

There's not much I care about besides training. My mother hasn't been herself since she lost her pregnancy. My brother is grim and distracted, and my father is pouring everything he has into my mother. I don't blame anyone. Life is what it is. Death is what it is. Pain is what it is. Especially the pain of loss.

I understand the pain of loss.

I understand it every time Raniel draws me into the misty place but refuses to let me see him. Every time he denies my plea to let me walk the shores of Avallonne again. Something is strained between us, strained in me. I still don't know what I did wrong. It’s notfair.

He makes a noise, drawing me out of my thoughts. “You did nothing wrong, my halfling.”

“Then why did you banish me?” I am no longer quite so starry-eyed when it comes to Raniel. Too much has happened this year—and I understand better who he is.

What he is.

---