Page 19 of The Uncrowned Prince

Or any of her trainers, for that matter. So much of what Karreya had been told about the world seemed flat and lacking in comparison to the vibrancy and, well…messinessof her experiences. Even now, as she meandered through the streets of this strange city, she found herself nearly overwhelmed by the smells and the sounds and the visceral realness of it all. Now that she had seen the world for herself, how could she not try to understand it, when understanding was the first part of gauging and responding to a threat?

“I will accept your help, Abreian.” The words fell out of her mouth before she managed to stop them, and her companion blinked at her for a moment as if he had not expected her to agree so easily.

“Just like that? Don’t you want to threaten my life a few times first? Wave your dagger around and tell me how many fingers you will slice off if I don’t manage a fair exchange?”

Perhaps she should, at that. She had not considered how many fingers might make a sufficient threat in this case, but…

She caught his eye and the peculiar glint warned her a moment before he burst out laughing.

“You really considered it, didn’t you?”

Well, of course she had. Or at least, she should have, if she’d been treating this negotiation with the seriousness it deserved, buthehad not been serious either. Which meant that his remark had been… teasing?

Had anyone ever teased her before? The Enclave certainly did not allow for such levity. Jocular behavior disturbed one’s focus and encouraged sentimentality, so the closest they ever came was taunting one’s opponents as a part of the cut and thrust and challenge of the arena.

But what of the years before the Enclave? What of those times when there had been no one but herself and her father’s discontent and the servants who feared them both?

She could recall nothing. No words or actions that carried with them any feelings of closeness or affection. And yet, something about the devilish glint in Niell’s eye and the amused curve of his lips felt somehow right and familiar and brought that strange warmth to her chest again.

Perhaps this was why Mistress Bethia was so adamantly against any form of attachment—these feelings were nothing if not a distraction from her goals.

Shaking off her confusion—and the appalling temptation to smile—she forced herself to glare sternly at Niell. “I will cut off more than your fingers if you continue to irritate me, Abreian.”

But Niell just grinned a little more broadly and shook his head.

“That’s going to have to stop, you know, or you’re going to look even more suspicious than you do now.”

“What must I stop?” First, he complained about her stabbing, now he wanted her to change something else?

“Calling me ‘Abreian,’ with that curl to your lip that makes it sound like the worst possible insult. You could at leasttryto pretend that you like me.”

“But why?” Surely they didn’t need to like each other in order to be allies for such a brief time.

“Well, for a start, it would make us less conspicuous,” Niell pointed out. “But more importantly, it’s making me terribly self-conscious. I can’t tell whether it’s my face or my name you object to the most.”

“Both.” She glowered at him in a way that should have conveyed at least some sense of ‘stop talking or I will kick you.’

Instead, his face lit up like a bonfire on Ascension Night.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so delighted by an insult before.”

He truly was the strangest of men.

“If you are fool enough to feel delighted, then I will not attempt to stop you,” Karreya muttered. “But I will only agree to use your name if you will cease looking at me in that way.”

“What way?”

Exactly the way he was at that moment. With a lopsided grin, warm, teasing gray eyes, and the bright, open curiosity that said he was happy to be walking beside her. That he had seen her, and he still wanted to know more.

She was not meant to be seen. Not meant to be known. Her purpose was to be silent, invisible, and deadly, without needing anything or anyone other than herself.

But she wanted to know more, too.

“You look as if…”

“Barley cakes!” A strident voice screamed directly beside her left ear.

“Hot roasted honey barley cakes! Just three copper shells!”

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