Page 55 of A War of Crowns

Still, she did not relent. She could not relent.

She had to know. She had tounderstand.

What did it mean? What did any of it mean?

“Who are you?” Seraphina demanded a second time.

The man still retreated, silence his only answer.

“Youwilltell me who are you,” she insisted in the midst of her pursuit.

Was he the key? The key to saving Mysai? Was he friend or was he foe?

Shehadto know.

Yet again, he did not answer.

Gritting her teeth, Seraphina suddenly snaked out her hand and grasped the man by the collar of the undershirt peeking out of his armor.

At her touch, his nostrils flared. His one eye narrowed. He finally spoke, but only to rumble, “Release me, woman.”

“Not until you tell me your name,” she whispered.

She stood close to him now—so close she was aware of this Crow’s scent. He smelled like horse and sweat and sea. But she no longer cared about the impropriety of his nearness. She simply had to know who he was.

“Tellme.”

His one-eyed gaze flickered across her features, taking in the sight of her own eyes, her mouth, and finally, her throat. Heat crawledits way through her cheeks when his attention lingered upon that latter point far longer than it ever should have.

She swallowed.

“Aldric,” the Crow finally rasped, his voice husky and low.

Seraphina’s brow furrowed. She knew that name. Where had she heard that name before?

The man looked up at her, his one eye hard and his frown deep. Taking a full step backward, the Crow wrenched himself from her hold and finished his introduction on a cold snarl of, “Aldric Hargrave.”

Chapter sixteen

Seraphina

Aldric Hargrave? Impossible.

“Aldric Hargrave is dead,” Seraphina informed the short Drakmori. The Crown Prince of Drakmor had died fifteen years ago. She remembered that day well.

It was the day her father had finally announced her formal betrothal to Drakmor. But with Prince Aldric’s death, the marriage contract shifted to the younger Hargrave, Edmund.

Seraphina thinned her lips and glared at the little Crow. He must be mocking her. Or trying to trick her. And she didn’t like it. “Prince Aldric diedmanyyears ago.”

The scarred man sneered up at herand asked, “Did he?”

“Your Majesty!” a voice suddenly called, and Seraphina glanced back toward theSilver Ladyto see Sir Arkwright and Sir Tristan both racing toward her across the beach.

When she looked forward again, she found the Crow and his monochrome companion had already withdrawn from her presence. They were well on their way to the edge of the jungle by that point.

“Wait!” she called after them both, though only the bronze-eyed man glanced back. But still, his steps didn’t slow. “I’m not finished with you!”

Sir Tristan leapt the last few steps toward her and positioned himself between her and the jungle. “Mistress Olivia will murder me if anything happens to you, you know,” he muttered under his breath.

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