Page 4 of Reckless in Ruins

Am I mistaken, or does a smile pull at his lip?

“I can have you in front of a judge by lunchtime,” Uther seethes.

I circle my fingers around the girth of his tensed forearm and tug feebly. “You can let me go. I’m not a physical threat, you know.”

“You are a threat in every way possible.”

The wrinkles around his deadly cobalt eyes would be devastating if only I could get him to really smile at me. Those hands could have their way with me, ruining me for anyone else. His hard, flat mouth could destroy me seven different ways. And he sees me as a threat?

“You say that I taunt you. Pester you. That I spent my waking hours trying to think of ways to provoke you. It’s quite the opposite, sir. You spend an inordinate amount of time and energy avoiding me. It’s you doing that. I’m simply carrying out palace duties, the same as you. And if I’m not wrong…” I pause to study the gentle bags under his fierce gaze. “…I’d say you’re lying awake at night obsessed by how much I annoy you.”

3

Uther

Slowly, I release the arm that pins her to the wall.

But I am no less outraged at her behavior.

“Are you finished?” I ask.

“For now.”

“Let me show you something.”

Not waiting for an answer, I turn and climb the stairs to the top of the turret, circled by a waist-high, crumbling ledge.

Sable follows me, and I study her face as she scans the sea in the distance, then turns toward the mountains, the forest, and the capital city’s distant skyline.

“It’s breathtaking up here,” she comments.

Forgetting myself as the diffused sunlight hits her pink cheeks, I lean against one of the precariously loose stones. It tumbles and falls, crashing down to the mossy courtyard below. Sable gasps and runs to the edge, watching in horror. She turns to me in shock. “Why did you do that?”

It was an accident, but I stupidly play it off for reasons I myself don’t understand. “That,” I say, pointing to the empty square in the ledge, “is as easy as it is to take a shot at the queen if I’m not paying laser-focused attention.”

“Destroying historic property is hardly the visual demonstration you think it is,” Sable says, squaring her shoulders though she’s showing signs of fear. Maybe now she’ll leave me alone.

I close in on her.

“Do you want the queen to die? Is that what you want?” I grit out.

She steps backward, shaken. Her chin trembles. “No. My gods, what an awful scenario to think of.”

Her voice breaks, a sound that claws at my chest.

“Well I do think of it. I think about every awful possible scenario, every second of every day. That’s my job. Except now, these last weeks, I’ve been distracted. And do you know why?”

“No,” she answers.

“Because I think only of you. You and your messages. Your emails. Your handwriting. Your perfume. You have driven me to distraction, and one day, it will cost us both. It could cost everyone in Gravenland everything we stand for.”

Sable’s throat bobs, and the gray morning light shines in her wet eyes. Her lips part, but no sound comes out. She looks cold, and I resist the urge to remove my coat to offer it to her.

“I-I’m so sorry, Captain,” she says, barely a whisper. She blinks rapidly as I step toward her, fright in her eyes as tears rain down her delicate cheeks.

Bloody hell.

Before I realize what the devil I’m getting myself into, I’ve cupped her face and swiped away those damn tears. “Stop your crying now, little poppy.” My words fall out in a heated whisper, my jaw tight.

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