Page 42 of The Faceless Mage

Nor was compassion a helpful trait for a spy, and the Raven almost sneered inside his mask. A soft heart would get her nowhere. This world would crush it, and her, as easily as swatting a gnat.

But it explained why she insisted on talking to him. Giving him tea. Treating him like a person. She considered him an object of sympathy.

Obviously, he was going to have to make more of an effort to convince her of the truth. There was nothing about him to like, nothing to pity. Nothing worth her sympathy or her curiosity. But how could he convey those truths when it was his job to protect her life?

“I have an idea,” she said, into the echoing silence of the otherwise empty hall. “What if you were to walkwithme instead of skulking along behind me? It would help if you could show me where I’m going, and it isn’t as if you can’t protect me from here.”

When he didn’t move, she added, “And I promise not to tell anyone that you aren’t as scary as you look.”

He supposed it was difficult to be frightened of someone who drank tea and fended off vengeful debutantes.

But why did that now irritate him? Before, he’d been relieved not to have to smell her fear.

He’d spent too much time lingering in confusion, so the princess turned back around and confronted the hall in front of her with a sigh. “What if I promise not to look? I could even shudder and pretend to feel faint if that would make you feel better.”

Was she trying to make a joke? How long had it been since anyone dared joke with him? Or evennearhim?

Feeling a sudden surge of frustration, the Raven surrendered to the impulse to make her fear him again, as she should.

He moved—swiftly and silently—and when the princess looked back over her shoulder a moment later, he was standing directly behind her.

She yelped, and he felt a surge of surprise through their link. Still no fear.

But how? She couldn’t have heard his approach.

“How do you even do that?” she hissed, looking around as if hoping no one had seen her behave like a startled cat. “A little noise would be nice. Unless you were doing it on purpose…”

She stared at him. He stared back.

“No,” she said firmly. “I refuse to believe it. There is simply no way that a legendary masked assassin is going out of his way to scare me merely for the sake of his own amusement.”

She thought he’d been playing agame? At that point, he nearly spoiled everything by giving in to the unnerving urge to laugh.

It was a close thing, and would have been a grave mistake. There was no way she could have missed feeling that kind of emotion through their link. And what could possibly be funny about this situation anyway?

The princess’s eyes narrowed. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that again.” She whirled on her heel and took a single step down the hall. “And you being right behind me is even worse than you lurking ten steps away. Would it be so bad if you just walked beside me?”

So he moved again, soundless as a shadow, to appear in her peripheral vision. Not quite behind her, not quite beside her. She took another step, and he mirrored it.

Suddenly her emotions battered him again, a surge of delight and amusement that nearly rocked him back on his heels.

She knew he was mocking her. And she thought it was hilarious.

“Fine,” she said, a tiny smile lurking at the corner of her mouth. “But I fully intend to blame you if I’m late to the luncheon.”

Not the effect he’d been going for. Laughter wouldn’t keep her safe. A sense of humor wouldn’t help her when the king decided it was time to remove her head.

But something had changed, and in spite of his efforts, she seemed utterly immune to his menacing presence. In fact, she went so far as toteasehim.

It was disconcerting. Irritating. It might even have been infuriating if he hadn’t suddenly realized that what he really wanted was for her to tease him again.

Somehow, she’d reached across the silent space between them with that soft heart of hers and made a connection. Become real and knowable. A person he was in danger of… liking.

It was the very last thing he should do. The very last thing he could afford. He had no heart, and any attempt to pretend otherwise would bring only unimaginable pain.

So he drew back and remained in his flanking position as the princess took off down the hall again. When they reached the end of it, he simply pointed to indicate which way they ought to go.

She thanked him, and they went on in this same way for a half dozen turns until they finally approached a stair that triggered recognition across their link. The princess finally knew where she was. One more turn, cross the balcony above the atrium, and she would be almost back to her rooms.

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