Page 42 of Knight from the Ashes (Crown and Crest 1)

“What makes you think you know how much I can handle?”

Losing my patience, I forget myself. “Are you always this difficult?”

Clover raises a single eyebrow, studying me with a mix of amusement and agitation. “You realize I outrank you, don’t you, soldier?”

“I am acutely aware of the fact,” I say tightly. “And please—call me Henrik.”

For some reason, that makes her laugh. The smile that flashes across her face is genuinely friendly, and it irritates me far more than it should.

“You don’t like your title?” she asks.

I’m one step below her on the social ladder—just one. So no, I don’t like my title. Now more than ever.

“I’m not interested in making small talk, Lady Clover. I have an entire group to see settled. I only wanted to speak with you to express my concern for your wellbeing.”

In a tone that says she thinks I’m very trying, she says with a sigh, “Fine. I won’t shoot at any more guards.” Then, unable to help herself, she adds, “Even if they deserve it.”

“Good.” I turn to leave but then glance back at her, and my dread grows.

Her deep blue riding gown is fitted at the top, tailored to expose her shoulders and cinched at her waist to accentuate her curves. The skirt flares at her hips, looking miserable to ride in, especially for a garment designed for that very purpose—but it’s not her traveling comfort I’m concerned with at the moment.

There’s a reason the guard noticed her. How could he not? A man would have to be blind to miss Clover.

“What is it now?” she asks.

“Perhaps you have something to wear that’s less…”

I can’t say revealing.

In fact, I should have kept my fool mouth shut. No matter how I finish the sentence, I’m doomed. I’m going to get slapped at best or shot at worst.

14

Clover

Henrik trails off,looking painfully uncomfortable. He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

But it’s all right—I know what he’s getting at, and he has a point. The gown cost a small fortune, and it’s embellished with sapphires. Even though it’s covered in trail dust, I’ll be a beacon amongst the simple people of the village, begging to be noticed. Walking around in this is practically an invitation for the less savory crowd to rob me.

Let’s not even mention that the gown is cut in a style that’s popular at court, which means the bodice is so tight there’s little place for my chest to go but up, and it’s low-cut enough that fact is very obvious. But I very much doubt valiant Henrik has let his eyes linger past my chin, so he’s referring to the value of the gown alone.

“What do you expect me to wear?” I ask. “I left everything behind when I joined you.”

Henrik meets my eyes and stares at me so intently I must resist the urge to squirm under his steel-blue gaze. Obviously, he’s regretting his decision to ask me along. After a moment, he tugs off his cloak and tosses it at me. “Take this.”

I immediately throw it back. “I’m not wearing your cloak again.”

Henrik catches it, and his jaw works for several seconds before he answers, “Suit yourself.”

Turning back to the group, I say, “I’m not staying at the barracks either.”

“What do you mean you’re not staying here?” he demands.

“We passed a perfectly good inn on the way through the village.”

“Lady Clover—”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I call over my shoulder as I leave.

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