Page 14 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
Now, she tried to keep the longing from her face as her people took to the pockets of space around the oak table, dancing in pairs, in circles of friends. She watched as several young women lingered nearby, attempting to rally their courage to approach the great Warswords of Thezmarr, both of whom seemed oblivious to their attentions.
Yara, a pretty girl whose family had fled to Ciraun from the south, tapped Talemir on the shoulder, her cheeks flushing as he turned to her.
‘Would you care to dance… sir?’ she asked, her voice pitching high with nerves.
He actually grimaced before shaking his head. ‘Ah… I’m flattered,’ he told her kindly. ‘But I don’t dance.’
‘Not even for one song?’ Yara asked boldly, her blush deepening.
‘Not even for half a song.’ But then he clapped Wilder heartily on the shoulder. ‘My apprentice here will gladly oblige you, though.’
Wilder shot him a look of furious disbelief, but didn’t protest as Yara dragged him to his feet.
‘I’m not your fucking apprentice,’ the younger Warsword hissed as he was hauled to the makeshift dancefloor.
Talemir laughed.
‘That was rather cruel,’ Drue commented, watching Wilder try to maintain a respectful distance between himself and the eager women of Naarva.
‘Ah, a necessary cruelty,’ Talemir replied, sipping his drink and following her gaze. ‘He’s had a hard time recently. His brother… His brother was injured during the final battle here. Poor lad blames himself.’
‘And was he to blame?’ Drue asked.
Talemir’s gaze snapped to her face. ‘Not in the slightest. If there’s blame to be had, I lay claim to it.’
The words hung between them, and for a fraction of a second, Drue pitied him. But when his eyes flitted to her cuff, she remembered herself, remembered what he truly was. She turned her attention back to the celebrations. They were a far cry from what the kingdom of gardens had offered prior to its downfall, but there was beauty and earnestness in its simplicity now. All around her, people found small joys where they could. She only wished she could be one of them. But losing her mother, losing her brothers, had stripped her of that. Now, she watched as folk danced, drank and kissed in the dim corners of the hall, her own heart filling with a dark emotion she didn’t care to identify.
Her scalp prickled, and she twisted in her seat to spot Coltan peering at her hopefully from across the room. She shuddered. She would never live that poor choice down, it seemed.
‘He’s in love with you, then…’ Talemir stated, nodding to the ranger.
‘One of many,’ Adrienne declared from her side, the tip of her nose pink from the wine. She slung her arm around Drue’s shoulders affectionately.
‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Talemir replied, the corner of his mouth tugging upward as Drue made to protest.
She didn’t appreciate this line of commentary in the least. When her life had comprised balls and feasts, she’d had many nights of passion, but after the kingdom had fallen and she had shed her gowns for leathers and weapons, a night of passion meant something else. It had been Adrienne who had warned her of the way men spoke, of the disrespect that festered among the weaker ones, especially for women in positions of power. Adrienne had told her then to guard her heart, her reputation. That it was better to be known as the formidable ranger than the girl who slept with one.
And then she’d made the stupid choice to give in to Coltan. She had thought he was safe, that as childhood friends they could find comfort with one another. But after a few nights together, he had changed – staking a claim to her he had no right to. And she had vowed not to make that mistake again. She would rather be alone than be owned by someone.
‘Let me know if you need me to dispatch him for you,’ Talemir was saying.
‘We do our own dispatching,’ Adrienne quipped. ‘But thanks.’
Drue stood, her patience wearing thin at last. ‘I’ll see to it that you and your friend have rooms for the night and fresh water for bathing. By the sounds of it, you need it.’
‘How thoughtful of you.’
‘I’m nothing if not thoughtful, Warsword.’
She leant down to whisper to Adrienne. ‘Can I trust you to occupy the younger one?’
Adrienne offered a brazen grin. ‘He’s a little broody for my taste, but I’ll consider it part of my official duties as general.’
Drue shook her head. ‘Have fun with that.’
‘Oh, I intend to,’ her friend said with a wink. ‘Luck be with you, sister.’
‘Not if he’s been with you first.’
