He’d locked the door before leaving that morning. Hadn’t he?
He couldn’t remember. It was a new routine for him, and he’d been distracted with the heady news that Thaddeus was hosting a trade summit and powerful members of the nobility from across the kingdoms would be present.
It was possible he’d left the door open. It was possible the princess really had been simply dusting. He’d peeked at the back parlor as they’d headed toward the stairs, and it gleamed.
It was possible the princess was truly cowed by the knowledge that he could end her with a single word.
“Never enter my study again,” he said.
She nodded, and he turned on his heel and left her with the mess.
Perhaps the princess, afraid for her life and the lives of those she loved, was trustworthy. Perhaps his new collector, hungry for the recognition that came with the title and interested in staying near the princess, was prepared to put Teague’s interests above his own.
Or perhaps the two of them were the most accomplished liars Teague had met since he’d had the terrible misfortune to care about a wretched girl sitting at a spinning wheel, surrounded by straw.
He couldn’t afford to be distracted from what really mattered. He had wishes to grant, nobility to break, and kingdoms to infiltrate. He needed another trusted employee to watch the girl and keep Sebastian in line—at least until Teague’s business with Thaddeus was concluded and he could kill the royal family, take the throne, and be done with it. He needed someone who could match Sebastian’s ruthlessness and who couldn’t be intimidated by the princess’s quick wit. Someone who would punish both of them without a second’s hesitation.
He needed Jacob Vaughn.
Thankfully, he’d had the foresight to instruct Felman to recall Jacob from Balavata the moment he’d realized that Daan was dead. He’d thought to install Jacob as his new Kosim Thalas collector, but Sebastian had already proven his worth, and Teague couldn’t possibly trust the boy to watch the princess’s moves and report back.
Jacob, however, wouldn’t just report on the princess. He’d hurt her if she stepped out of line. Kill her if necessary. He’d even kill his own son if that’s what Teague wanted. He’d proven that once, and Teague had no doubt he would prove it again if asked.
Jacob would be back in Kosim Thalas any day now, and that would free Teague to focus all of his energy on the young king and the throne that would soon be Teague’s.
THIRTY-THREE
ARI WOKE THE next morning to the smell of frying sausage. Flying out of bed, she snatched the first dress she found and shoved her feet into her sandals. Splashing water on her face, and brushing her teeth with mint at lightning speed, she skipped braiding her hair in favor of running for the stairs.
Maarit was going to cook that sausage until it no longer resembled anything that might safely be called food. Ari was still shaken from yesterday’s terrifying confrontation with Teague, especially because he had decided she needed to stay in her room for the rest of the day with nothing but the occasional visit from Maarit for company, when all Ari really needed was to see Sebastian and feel safe again. Still, she’d counted it a victory. He hadn’t found the stolen contract. He’d unwittingly given her time to study the poem in the nursery primer, though it hadn’t helped. What she really needed was to find a way to get the Book of the Fae from Rahel’s shop. It should have arrived by now. And there was finally meat in the house because she’d convinced Maarit to buy some at the market. She hadn’t gone through all that just to go back to eating yogurt and dry toast for breakfast because the (ancient, holy stars, why-haven’t-you-retired-yet) housekeeper ruined the sausage.
She skidded into the kitchen and yelled, “Maarit, get away from that stove before you— Sebastian?”
He turned, his tunic straining over his shoulders, a pair of tongs in his hand. “Princess Arianna.” His voice held a wealth of relief and something darker. Something that sounded like regret. He tossed the tongs onto the counter and strode toward her.
Her stomach tingled like she’d had fizzy wine for breakfast.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he reached her. Her heart ached at the guilt in his eyes.
“For what?”
“For not following you when Teague took you to the study. I should have. I know that. I just thought—”
“You thought that if you disobeyed Teague, he’d hurt me to get at you, and then take your job away and kick you out of the villa,” she finished for him. “And if you get kicked out of the villa, I’ll be completely alone.”
He nodded, but misery was etched on his face.
“It was a smart decision.” She stepped closer to him, and willed him to listen to her. “It was the right decision. You have nothing to apologize for. If you’d acted rashly, we could’ve lost everything.”
He lowered his voice and glanced behind him at the open doorway that led out to the dining room. It was empty. “We could’ve lost everything anyway. He could’ve found the contract. You could’ve been hurt. I had to take his word for it that you weren’t because I didn’t see you again yesterday.” He pressed his lips together and then blurted, “I barely slept. I kept thinking that I made a terrible mistake, and that you were alone and afraid, and I should have—”
“No.” She moved closer to him, and he didn’t flinch. She checked the hall. Still empty. Checked the walls. Not breathing. Her voice barely more than a whisper, she said, “I was alone and afraid, but I can survive that. Especially knowing that you did what you had to do to stay here with me. And now he trusts me a little more. He didn’t find where I’d hidden the contract.”
Sebastian glanced at her chest, and Ari’s face heated. “No, it wasn’t . . . That’s not where . . . I hid it in a dusty vase just inside Maarit’s room. Last place he’d ever look.”
Sebastian jerked his eyes back up to hers and took a small step back. “I’m sorry. That was . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to notice anything.”
The misery disappeared from his face, replaced by mortification, but there was something warm in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
Ari smiled as the fizzy tingling in her stomach spread to her veins, a welcome relief from the loneliness and tension of the past week.
His eyes swept over her with a faint hint of desperation. “I mean I was, um, noticing that I like your hair down.”
She patted her hair as if just now discovering that she hadn’t braided it—which was a stupid reaction, but somehow his words made her feel like whatever she’d done right with her hair this morning needed to be repeated every morning for the rest of her life.
The scent of scorched bread brought her up short. “Are you making toast?” She craned to see the stove behind him.