Page 28 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

Inside the galley, a conversation was in progress: Kaz’s husky murmur, and Aral’s clipped, highborn rumble.

Kaz, in a teasing tone: “She’s not at all what you expected, is she?”

Wren caught herself before she burst through the hatch. She tiptoed closer, remaining out of sight. The pair were busy in the galley. Aral stood by the counter, filling his mug with tea while Kaz sorted through packets of food. They’d donned clean uniforms, but wore them in a more casual manner, sans ID badges, their collars unfastened, sleeves rolled up. It was a small galley, with barely enough room for two—let alone three—people. Wren would be sitting practically in Aral’s lap.

Not at all an unpleasant thought.

Aral stirred his tea. “Since I have the feeling you’re going to anyway, why don’t you share what you think I expected?”

“She’s a fireball. Did you expect that? I didn’t. You always described her as small and shy.”

Like a little mar-mouse,Wren thought darkly.

“Her reaction to your marital intervention was priceless,” Kaz went on. “It was a true joy, watching nerves-of-steel Battlelord Mawndarr squirm for once. I do believe you blushed.”

A dismissive sound came out of Aral as he took a seat at the narrow eating counter. Wren’s focus traveled down his forearms, sinewy and sprinkled with dark hair, his wrists sturdy, and then to his hands. No marriage tattoo decorated his right index finger. He claimed they were married, yet he’d taken no steps to personalize the union or show it to the world. It gave credence to his story that he’d married her only to prevent anyone else from doing so—someone like his chilling sire, Karbon.

Aral wiped his spoon and set it down, lining it up exactly parallel to a seam in the countertop. “I suppose it was worth it, your exposing my boyhood crush. It seems to have put her at ease in the present. I do not want her misinterpreting my intentions.”

“You mean you don’t want her thinking your fake marriage will lead to a real one.”

Aral’s hand tightened around his mug. “You know my feelings on the matter, Kaz.”

Wren did, loud and clear. While giving her a tour of her quarters, he’d taken pains to avoid even the smallest body contact. Fates, he’d pressed himself up against the wall! She assumed he was being overly polite, giving her some space. But perhaps he’d wanted to send a message: nothing sexual was going to happen between them.

“He’s not really angry,”Kaz had assured her.“Believe it or not, he’s actually shy.”Even his second-in-command had felt compelled to explain away his discomfort around her.

And yet when he’d grabbed her chair before they fled Zorabeta, he’d acted anything but shy. Fates, she’d been upset with him, her temper howling, his roaring right back. She’d always been uncomfortable with the beast inside her. Yet in that instance, it felt likepassion. She’d very nearly grabbed him and kissed him.

Their mutual teenage “crushes” might be long over, but there was no denying that as adults they had chemistry. Yet he’d given up his conjugal rights faster than a gild-fish darting through a hole in the net. She’d been defiant as she denied him those rights, certainly, but she’d expectedsomeshow of disappointment at her resistance, a small effort to change her mind, a flicker of hope that she might. If anything, he’d acted relieved she rejected him so soundly.

If anyone should be relieved, it was her! He respected her autonomy. Wasn’t that what she wanted? The freedom to achieve her goals, traveling to Ara Ana and divvying up the treasure as she saw fit. Yes and yes. She was lucky to have joined forces with two people as brave and honorable as Aral and Kaz. Noble souls, both of them.

Even so, it still stung a little, hearing Aral so clearly state theirs would never be more than a marriage of convenience. If their reunion had rekindled her belief in second chances and fairytale endings, she blamed it on her silly girlhood daydreams: her earnest, handsome cadet coming back for her, giving up everything so they could make a life together. True love. Yes, silly.

As Kaz pulled several packets from the Re-Gen, Aral drank tea and generally brooded. “So much for getting out of the camp unnoticed,” he said.

“Aye, I know. Rumors were flying about the food fight. The head priestess was going through the ranks, trying to find out who she was. I was wondering if it was the reason for the code yellow, until they sent those fighters after us. Not I’m not so sure. I know some sects hold a lot of sway in their government, but that much influence?

“Did you hear what they were calling her?” Aral’s eyes crinkled, hinting at an actual smile hidden behind his mug. “The boxing priestess.” He even chuckled. “Imagine that.”

Wren took a breath and walked through the hatch. “Of all the names assigned to me, I like that one the best. It’s better than the warlord’s runt. Or mar-mouse. Ihatethat one.”

They both turned, Kaz wearing a delighted grin, and Aral looking a bit sheepish being caught gossiping about her.

“Whatever you’re preparing smells much better than what they gave us on the transport or in the camp. Protein stalks. They were awful.”

“Well, what do you know.” Kaz tore the seal off a pouch. “Vegetable and protein stalk soup. Your favorite.” Steam escaped, releasing a delicious aroma as she poured them each a hearty serving. “Make yourself comfortable, Wren.”

Wren slid onto the seat next to Aral. Their shoulders brushed, and he inched sideways. “I didn’t know you had such an excellent sense of hearing,” he remarked.

“I gave away my superpower. My guardians never learned their lesson. They whisper-argued my entire life. I thought I’d heard everything. But I knew nothing. Not the treasure, or Ara Ana, or my ability to open the sanctum. I think Sabra, my guardian, was going to break the news on my twenty-fifth birthday. But… change in plans.” She reached inside her shirt and pulled out the precious pendant.

She hadn’t peeked at it since she left Barokk. She dared not tempt a thief—or a loyalist. But Aral and Kaz wanted the treasure for the right reasons.Herreasons. One look in his earnest eyes, and she knew she’d read his intentions correctly.After losing everything, she found allies.

Gently, she spilled the necklace onto the table. “Behold, the key to the Goddess treasure.”

Black as deep space, but somehow lit from within, the pendant looked out of place on the brushed metal countertop. Five tiny dots on its face twinkled like miniature stars.

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