Page 63 of Grave Situation

“Betray what?” Tia asks, doing an excellent job of sounding confused. “Talon being annoyed about people’s obsession with twins? They already know. He doesn’t keep it secret.”

Jaimin stops walking, and we do too. To keep going would be to make it seem like we were trying to get away from him. He studies us both, and I make myself breathe evenly. Calm. I’m calm. I’m not worried about becoming some master’s lifelong research project.

“You’re saying,” he begins slowly, “that you can’t speak mind-to-mind with each other?”

“Of course he can,” Tia says impatiently. She’s really a better actress than I give her credit for. “He’s a telepath.” She pauses. “Wait, do you mean canIspeak in Talon’s mind?”

Jaimin raises his brows. “Can you?”

“Only when he reaches out to talk to me. Does that count? I can’t reach out to him, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m a dragon rider, not a telepath.”

I owe Tia the biggest apology that exists. She’s a goddess. Not a single word she said was a lie… exactly. I concentrate on looking innocent and confused.

Jaimin glances between us both, then sighs. “I would never betray you,” he repeats. “But I can’t be fully useful if you’re keeping secrets.”

“Of course we’re keeping secrets.” I try to sound surprised. “I’m sure you are too. But if you think we have some kind of mystical twin bond that allows us to talk to each other…” I shake my head. “I’m a telepath, so yeah, sometimes I talk privately to my sister. I can try to stop, if it bothers you.”

He shakes his head. “When the time comes, remember you can trust me.”

I want to believe that. More than anything, I want to believe I can trust him with this. But I won’t risk my life, and I definitely won’t risk Tia’s.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Thanksto a neat little bribe and some charm, this party hasn’t been all that bad. One of the serving staff has been meticulous about bringing every new offering from the kitchens to me first—with the exception of the time he had to either stop and serve the king or walk past him. That’s perfectly understandable—I wouldn’t expect him to snub the king in his own palace just for the sake of some coin.

The king also did his retiring captain the honor of bringing out a very nice wine vintage, and despite Tia’s disapproval, I’m on my third goblet. She’s of the opinion that we shouldn’t imbibe while we’re “working.” I’m of the opinion that if something happens that requires me to be sober, we’re fucked anyway. And Jaimin can probably heal the drunk out of me.

I frown. If it’s something he can heal, does that mean he can feel the “wrongness” of it? Is me getting tipsy going to cause him discomfort? I search the room, my gaze finally falling on him in conversation with two strangers. He’s smiling, but there’s something different about his face. An element of strain. Being in such a highly populated city—not to mention this crowded room—is probably wearing on him.

Suddenly the wine isn’t so appealing. I don’t want to contribute to his problems, and since I don’t really understand how it works, I guess that means abstaining until I can talk to him about it. Which he might not want to do, now that he thinks I don’t trust him.

This has become way too complicated.

Haftel sidles up beside me. “Any luck?” she asks, sipping from her own goblet. I bite back my envy.

“Nothing,” I report. She and I stole a few minutes earlier to haggle out our butter-for-brandy bargain, and it turned out well for us both. She reminds me a lot of my master, only more inclined to put up with the bullshit of others. It surprised me—I expected a court mage to be a lot more… pompous.

“It’s not giving you any clues at all?” She sounds disappointed, and I don’t blame her.

“Well, it’s not letting me leave.” I tried that fifteen minutes ago, and the stone very firmly insisted I should stay. “So either there’s somebody here that I need to meet, but the time isn’t right, or they have—” My gaze lands on a small group of soldiers fifteen or so feet away. They’re in their dress uniforms, fancy swords by their sides, and they seem to be having a heated conversation.

The stone hums in my mind.

“Who are they?” I ask Haftel, taking in the details of each of the four men. She turns to look.

“Those men? The two with the gold insignia on their shoulders are lieutenants in the King’s Own Guard—two of the better ones, to be frank. I don’t care for all of them.”

“Hmm.” The stone doesn’t react as I examine them, so I turn my attention to the next. “And the sergeant?”

“I don’t know him well, but he’s been attending a few events lately—I think they may be grooming him for a promotion.There’s likely to be some movement in the ranks now that Jurgen is retiring.”

The stone’s still not interested. That leaves only one—the only one whodoesn’thave rank on display. That’s unusual, right? All the other soldiers here tonight are officers or sergeants. The others are at the barracks party… where I wanted to slip away to before the stone stopped me.

I study the fourth man. He is, frankly, beautiful. Huge—well over six feet, and broad through the chest and shoulders—and possessing curly golden hair. I can’t quite make out his eye color from here, but it looks like it might be dark. And as he throws back his head and laughs, a dimple pops into view.

The stone urges me toward him. I’m not opposed… but I want to know more first.

“What about the blond? Why’s he not wearing his rank?”

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