Page 46 of The Faceless Mage

After today, it was clear that her future and her success might now depend entirely on him. On his relationship with Melger, and on whether he would tell the king what he knew. Whether he evencould, or whether he had a choice.

Her safety might also depend on what the Raven thought of mages, and that, she had no way to know. Not without touching that infernal gem.

And if she touched it, she might accidentally find out what he thought ofher,and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Did he see her as the pathetic princess he’d been forced to look after? Did he resent her? Plan to kill her eventually? Or did he realize she was also an unwilling participant in all of this?

And why did it matter so much what he thought? Why did she even care?

Leisa’s fists clenched, and her chin came up, so of course, that was when she tripped on the hem of her gown and nearly face planted on the marble floor.

The Raven caught her.

Somehow, he closed the six paces between them and grasped her arm, pulling her up before she even had time to yelp in surprise.

They both paused. Leisa’s breath caught in her chest, and she realized distantly that she couldn’t hear him breathing either. And somewhere in those few breathless moments, she lost control of the wall she’d put up around her emotions and accidentally allowed herself to feel their link again.

… Confusion. And concern. Just like before. Was he concerned forher? She experienced a completely unjustified surge of happiness, and then a hard mental shove that sent her physically reeling.

He was concerned, yes. But he didn’t want this link any more than she did.

Again, he caught her before she could fall, but this time, he dropped her arm like it burned him and took two deliberate steps back.

It was the most pointed rejection she’d ever experienced, especially considering it required no words at all. And it left her in much the same place she’d begun—wondering who he really was and whether he deserved her fear or her pity.

She could not imagine submitting tamely to the life he seemed to lead—a life of loneliness and death, without even the natural oblivion of sleep. Without the freedom to choose his own actions. But with as much power and skill as he obviously had, how could he have been forced to obey the king’s orders?

What, exactly, had Melger done?

But there was no answer to that, and for now, Leisa knew only that she couldn’t risk changing again. Not with the Raven already far too close, and far too knowing. He might feel some budding concern, but he was also clearly conscious of her fear. Whatever concern he might be experiencing, she doubted it would stop him if the king ordered her destruction, which Melger would no doubt do if she gave any hints of her ability.

As much as she longed for an ally, she could not let herself rely on the Raven.

* * *

By the time she reached her rooms, Leisa knew there was no possible way she could attend the scheduled dinner, let alone the ball. She was an exhausted, cranky bundle of nerves, and facing King Melger would only make it worse.

So she told Lady Piperell she was feeling poorly and that she would be staying in to rest for the evening. The older woman offered restorative tonics and the attendance of the queen’s own physician, but Leisa claimed to be untrusting of any doctors other than her own and shut herself in her room.

Where she commenced pacing from wall to wall in an attempt to corral her thoughts and limit the explosion of questions that had nearly paralyzed her all afternoon.

She was just a bodyguard. This mission wasn’t supposed to be abouther, and yet, those few overheard words had made it very much about her after all. But it was also still about Evaraine. About Farhall. About King Soren and his lies. About whether this new information should have anything to do with her sense of loyalty.

What did she owe King Soren if he’d been lying to her for eighteen years—both about what she was and why he’d chosen to save her? What did she owe Evaraine, who was, in the end, little to Leisa beyond a job?

Did Evaraine deserve to be used as a bargaining chip between kingdoms? No. That much hadn’t changed, but did Leisa deserve to be used as a dispensable resource? To be manipulated into risking her life when she had no understanding of the true dangers or the stakes?

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been thinking in circles—probably a few hours—when she began to hear an angry voice in the hall outside her suite. Her own anger remained unabated, so it suited her mood to throw the door open with a crash and stride across the anteroom to do the same with the door into the hall.

“What?” She snapped, glaring at the two men who appeared to be sizing each other up like a pair of tomcats.

“You didn’t show up to the ball, and they wouldn’t tell us anything,” Kip said, glowering at the Raven. “I demanded to see you, but he was just going to stand there in front of your door until we all died of old age. So I decided to do something about it.”

Oh, Kip. Leisa could have cheerfully taken him by the arms and shaken him till his teeth rattled. The young fool was going to get himself killed before this was over.

“Did you stop to think that perhaps I remained in my rooms because I wanted to be alone?” Leisa hissed.

At his startled look, she relented. “Very well. Come in. I will do my best to reassure you so you can carry the news back to Zander. Then hopefully, the lot of you will be willing to leave me in peace until tomorrow.”

The Raven stepped aside without argument and allowed Kip to follow her into her anteroom. To her surprise, he even permitted her to shut the door with him outside.

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