“No, but I’m not a fool, and you’re even less of one.”
Ash must have felt this way when she asked questions. “Clare, there’s trouble brewing, and I can’t tell you the details, but not because I don’t trust you. Anyone who knows is at risk.”
“And when events come to a head, how am I to act in a way that’s helpful if I don’t know anything?”
“I’ll tell you. Or one of the soldiers will. Or Darnessa.” Sage added the last, suspecting the matchmaker knew much more than she revealed. They eyed each other stubbornly until they heard a knock on the door.
Clare stood and set the tray of food across Sage’s lap. “I will try to be content with that for now.” She walked around the bed to answer the door and came back with a note. Before Sage could stop her, Clare opened it herself and glanced at it, then handed it over.
Main chapel, 1 hour before midnight.—A
She looked up at Clare, who gazed back with raised eyebrows.
“You weren’t sick last night, were you?” Clare asked. “You were with him.” Sage pressed her lips together, and Clare rolled her eyes. “Just tell me when I should start worrying that you haven’t come back.”
*
Sage waited nervously in the dark chapel, as eager to see Ash again as she was to confront the captain. The air behind her shifted, and she felt the heat of someone at her back. She yelped as an arm slipped around her waist. A gloved hand slammed over her mouth, and she was lifted off her feet. She bit down hard on the hand, bracing her arm to elbow her attacker with all her strength.
“For Spirit’s sake!” Ash hissed in her ear. “It’s only me.”
He released her, and she spun around to shove him. “You scared the life out of me!”
Ash’s teeth flashed in the dim light as he shook his left hand in the air. “Good reaction, though.” He took off his glove and flexed his fingers. “Ow.”
“You deserved it.” Her heart was pounding so hard, she felt it in her fingertips.
“So I did.” He pulled her to the side, glancing around. “We’re going to a planning meeting, but I have to explain something first.” Sage’s heart had begun to slow, but it leapt again. Ash took a deep breath. “Robert’s gone, so now it’s safe to tell you who he was.”
“Lieutenant Gramwell, right?” She wanted to show him she’d discovered it on her own.
“How did you figure that?”
“You didn’t want me to talk to the officers, so it must be one of them. Gramwell wouldn’t leave Clare alone, and who but a prince would be so bold with a Concordium bride? He also told her he wouldn’t see her for a while.” She heard Ash groan softly. “I’ll do everything I can to make the match happen. She’d be a wonderful queen.”
“For once, you’re mistaken.” His head snapped up at a noise near the altar. He tugged her arm. “This way.”
Ash led her out a side door and pulled her toward the soldiers’ quarters. Along the way she tried to figure where she went wrong in her logic. He ushered her into the barracks, pausing to close the door behind them.
“Quinn,” she said as he turned to face her.
Ash jumped. “What?”
“Prince Robert was acting as Captain Quinn.”
He swallowed. “Yes.” He glanced anxiously at the captain’s door.
She waited, but he didn’t say anything more. After a few seconds, she prompted, “And Casseck is really the captain?”
“Will you stop it with the theories?” Ash reached up to her face with his right hand, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something important.”
“Yes?” she whispered, the mystery forgotten. Now she understood why he was nervous. He wanted to say what he couldn’t before. The words that would change everything.
Ash hesitated. “I’ve practiced telling you so many times, but I still don’t know how.”
She leaned closer and placed a trembling hand on his upper arm. Please, she thought but could not say. I don’t need fancy words, I just need—
The captain’s door opened, throwing a shaft of light across them. “Captain?”
Without lowering his hand, Ash slowly turned his head to acknowledge Lieutenant Gramwell, who now realized his intrusion.
“Sorry, sir. Begging your pardon, sir, but we’re ready when you are.”
Ash gave a short nod. “Thank you. I’ll be just a couple minutes.”
Gramwell shut the door after casting an apologetic look at Sage. Once again they were alone with the light from a single torch. Ash continued to stare at the door, clenching his jaw.
“You,” she whispered. “You’re Captain Quinn?” His dark eyes turned back to her, filled with shame. Fury of comprehension raced through Sage like wildfire, burning every nerve ending in her skin.
It was all a lie.
Everything about him was a lie.
There was no Ash Carter.
Her vision clouded over, and she wrenched away, yanking her hand back from his arm, only to reverse and send her clenched fist flying at his face. With the hand that had rested against her cheek, he deflected the blow and seized her wrist, forcing her arm down in a swift arc. His left arm clamped around her, pinning her arms to her side and pulling her roughly against him.
“I may deserve it,” he said, straining to hold her. “But a broken nose will slow us down in ways we can’t afford.”
His right arm was across her body, pressed between them, jamming her left hand under his elbow, and he’d wrapped one leg around hers to pin them together. She couldn’t move an inch. “You two-faced son of a BITCH!” she hissed. “Is this how an honorable officer of the realm behaves?”
“In protection of the crown, yes.” His coolness only infuriated her more, and she twisted and pushed against his iron hold, her left wrist screaming in protest. Her struggles made him fight for balance on one foot. “You weren’t always honest about your identity and motives either, my lady.”
It was a cruel thing to say. Every second the Ash she knew drifted farther away, but he’d never been real. “Mine were never intended to use or hurt people, Captain Quinn.” She spat his name like a curse.
He looked down on her without blinking until she turned her face away. She’d fallen for his act like a lovesick schoolgirl—she who prided herself on her judgment, her ability to see through the fronts people presented. And why? Because she wanted a prince, a fairy tale. The tidal wave of anger receded, leaving behind a gaping chasm of hurt, which was worse, and she sagged against him with a muffled sob.
Quinn relaxed his leg and eased the pressure at her back enough to pull his right arm free. She might have escaped his grasp in those seconds, but she no longer cared enough to try. He wiped her tears away with his fingers as she stared into empty space. It was humiliating. She hadn’t even cried when Father died.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispered.
She would not answer, would not look at him, would not even nod or shake her head.