Page 61 of Reckless
“Great.” Lenny nods. “We’ll set off in the evening and ride through the night. Then, a few days later, once we get close to Ilya, I’ll go ahead and inform the king that we have his Enforcer.” With a sigh, he adds, “I’ll tell him to meet us in the field near the Sanctuary of Souls with, what, no more than three Imperials? That should avoid the ambush that would certainly happen if we all tried to walk into the throne room. We will keep our crossbows aimed on theleverage”—a nod at Kai—“the whole time to ensure that there is no funny business. And that is when we’ll exchange our prince here for your freedom.” He claps his hands together, looking cheery. “After that, we return to Dor and live happily ever after.”
I struggle not to shake my head at them. It’s a terrible plan. They will lose all control over me as soon as I step close enough to an Elite. A real Elite. Not the strands of power I’ve been trying to grasp from this group for the past two days. The little bit of ability they possess is unpredictable, slippery under my skin, and I don’t yet know how to use it.
I’ve never felt anything like it. But now that I have, I don’t doubt it’s been hiding right under my nose. I wonder how many Elites I’ve read who only contain a percentage of power, having come from a mixed line. It’s frustratingly fascinating.
“Bread, anyone?” Meredith’s making rounds with her usual basket of stale bread and warm cheese. Her power pulses in my veins, hers and Lenny’s more potent than the rest. She’s a Crawler, which would be more than helpful if my hands weren’t tied behind my back.
“Yes, ma’am,” Finn calls, jumping over a few sleeping bodies to grab a loaf. Taking a bite, he turns to Paedyn. “Hey, I’ll take the first shift tonight.” Even at this distance, I can see the crumbs flying from his mouth. “You get some sleep.”
She smiles at him, looking relieved. “Thanks, Finn. Wake me in a couple of hours, okay?”
He’s still chomping on his bread when he salutes her, takes the crossbow, and slumps against the wall a few yards away. Ignoring the corner he occupies, I scan the candle-scattered floor casting flickering shadows across the run-down walls and ceiling. I wriggle into the large bedroll, forced to lie on my side with my hands bound behind my back.
Paedyn hesitates before sliding in beside me. She always does. She’s only ever timid when I’m close enough to touch her.
I shift in the bedroll, rustling enough to force a sigh out of her. “What is the matter with you?”
“My nose is itchy,” I say, voice muffled with blankets.
She’s silent in the way that makes me think she’s struggling not to laugh. “Fine,” she huffs. “Turn around.”
With aching arms, I flip onto my other side so we’re facing each other. I haven’t gotten the chance to study her recently. She’s close to me, her body warm despite the freezing feet inching their way closer to mine. Her blue eyes ripple in the candlelight, looking like the deepest corner of a lagoon. I can just make out the faint freckles that dot her nose, though I pretend to forget the exact number of them there.
She slips a hand from beneath the blanket, reaching for my face. “Um.” She’s timid again. “Where?”
“Bridge of my nose,” I say, my eyes never leaving hers.
The tip of her finger meets my nose, and I can’t help but be reminded of when she flicked it. Maybe she’s thinking the same, because after a quick swipe of her finger, she snatches her hand back.
I clear my throat. “I didn’t take you for the gambling type.”
“I’m a thief,” she says dismissively. “Every pocket I reach into is a gamble.”
“Fine. I didn’t take you for the ignorant type.”
She gives me a dull look. “What is this about, Prince?”
“Your deal with the king.” I hold her gaze. “Trading me for your freedom.
It won’t work.”
Her eyes drift across the room, gaze haunted by memory. “Kitt loves you more than he hates me. It’ll work.”
I smile sadly. “You’d be surprised.”
We fall silent, and I watch her eyelids flutter with sleep. She’s unbearable, really. But not in the way that makes it any easier to look away. No, everything about her is a bold sort of beauty, like a rose proudly displaying its thorns. She’s alluring in the way that most deadly things are. It’s captivating.
No. No, it’s terrifying. It’ssupposedto be terrifying, still thinking of her as something I’m trying to deserve. Still deeming her worthy of my desire.
But she’s not. No matter what has already happened between us. She’s my prisoner and my mission.
She is nothing to me.
And that’s what I tell myself as I watch her fall asleep.
I follow her—into sleep, into oblivion, into wherever it is she’s going.
I only wake up when something is thrown over my head, the air thick and choking.
