Page 26 of The Kingdom's Crown

"What areyou going to do with ladies-in-waiting?" Cresswell asked as he escorted me back to the suite.

"I haven't the faintest idea, but at least they will be ones I like," I said.

Amelia and my mother had tried to wheedle me into choosing another girl aside from Morgan and Nora, but Mother had given up easily and eventually lost patience with Amelia's urging. My new ladies-in-waiting were being shown to their quarters at the far edge of my own suite, and Cresswell was escorting me back by a longer route, Stanley Piper following far behind.

"And trust?" Cresswell asked.

"I think so. Not as I trust you and the others. But their families appear to be on my side and…" Nora's brother was a shifter. Owen would be able to tell quickly if she was as well. I didn't want toblackmailthe young girl into loyalty, but at least I had a weapon if I needed one later.

I frowned at my own line of thinking and then startled as Cresswell wrapped an arm around me.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"No! I like—you're welcome to," I rushed out, catching his hand before it retreated and pulling it back about my shoulders. Cresswell was stiff and awkward, but I leaned into his side and looked up at him. "You know you are. I've been waiting for more."

"Bryony…"

"You're not allowed to change your mind."

He huffed, fighting a smile. "I would if it were that easy. It took enough focus to keep you safe in the north, but there are so many different kinds of threats here. Some I don't even understand," he said, the smile fading away quickly. "Piper and Brummer have some idea of who might be trusted in the guards but—"

"Danger won't evaporate conveniently, Cress," I said softly. "I think I am in for a lifetime of opposition. The council has had their hooks in Kimmery for too long to give up, even if I win the crown. You will have to learn to love me around the threats."

Cresswell frowned, his arm around me guiding me closer to the wall as a maid appeared in the hall, her head tucked low and steps quick in our direction, hands fisted around the handles of a tea tray. Cresswell's lips parted to speak, brow furrowed, and my steps faltered.

Scorching heat ran down a line against my hip, my eyes widening. The dagger! I kept my gift from Aric on me at all times, to the point I'd nearly forgotten its purpose, but it was blazing now, warning danger.

"Sir!" Piper cried out.

The maid—harmless, tiny creature as she appeared—swerved suddenly, the tea tray clattering to the floor, porcelain shattering and drawing my eyes down. I had my hand on the hilt of my dagger, drawing it from its sheath, at the same moment Cresswell reacted instinctively to the shout, shoving me to the wall and pinning me there with his tall broad frame.

There was a soft screech from the other side of Cresswell, and he buried a grunt of pain in my hair. His arms squeezed me in place as I tried to buck free, breaths panting into my hair.

Piper's steps thundered on the tile of the hall, and Cresswell shouted, a yelp really, before groaning again, his body shuddering.

"Cresswell, let me—"

"No," he said through gritted teeth.

I tried to squirm out from between him and the wall, my heart hammering and my throat squeezed tight.

"Cress!" I cried.

Above me his face was ashen, eyes squeezed shut and lips pressed to a firm white line. He'd been injured, stabbed by the glint of silver I'd seen in the maid's hand before he'd thrown me to the wall. His body was acting as my shield, but the knowledge he'd been harmed only made me burn with anger.

There was a feminine roar of frustration and then more slapping footsteps as the maid raced away. It was too late for her, I could hear Piper fast behind her, but I ignored them both as Cresswell sank against me, his weight heavy and beginning to droop.

Hunger was sharp in my palms, and a month ago I would've worried about hurting Cresswell, but I knew better now. I dropped my dagger back in its sheath, and my free hand tore away at the buttons of Cresswell's uniform, wrestling under his jacket and searching his back. I whimpered at the hot wet rush of blood I found and swept my touch against him until he groaned. The wound, one of them at least, soaked my palm as I pressed down, and I followed Cresswell to his knees at the first jagged pulse of magic.

8

Cresswell

Bryony's magic was fire under my skin, a pain worse than the stab of the maid's little dagger. I hadn't been paying attention, too busy thinking of the invitation in Bryony's words to really process the tight set of the small woman's shoulders. I arched as another lightning pulse rushed into the muscle of my back, groaned as blood and flesh sizzled. It was as if she were branding me. No, cauterizing the wound.

"I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have taken that in the first place. I could've knocked her aside myself," Bryony rushed, her voice soft and a little breathless in my ear. "Oh stars, she's left the knife in."

I tried to hold Bryony in place, but the flex of my arms pulled on the wound where the knife was still embedded in my shoulder, and Bryony wrestled out of my grip easily. "There could be more," I squeezed out, words ragged.

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