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And that’s all it takes for me to know exactly who this woman is. Her son has been in our village for nearly two weeks now, hiding his future queen and lover from his mother.
She was taken aback by Garben and me being so far from the village, which makes me wonder how long she’s been watching our patrols. We’ve only just switched our routes up, so she isn’t caught up on the internal workings of our guards. Cotear has been dead for three days, and Poko has been dead for a month... Which means she hasn’t had anyone within the village to give her information.
What did she think she was going to do? Walk straight through the forest and enter the palace?
I give her my most polite smile. “No, Nesta. You have no friends here.”
20
ADELAIDE
DAY SEVENTY-ONE
I awake wrapped in the warmth of a charming Mongrel, but the noise is ungodly. Why is someone always knocking on the fucking door? The rap of knuckles has become the bane of my existence.
“All right,” Ecaeris groans, taking his body heat with him as he rolls out of the bed. “What is it?”
“Talodus needs you,” a man says.
Ecaeris swings the door open. “The morning patrol has barely started. What’s wrong?”
Isn’t that a million dollar question?
“There’s a woman at the third circle route asking to speak with the queen.”
“Let me grab a shirt,” Ecaeris mumbles. “I’ll be right behind you.”
He shuts the door, and I climb from beneath the covers to begin dressing. I have my blouse buttoned and my linen pants tied at the waist before Ecaeris even realizes he’s also supposed to be putting the rest of his clothing on.
“What are you doing?” he inquires.
“What does it look like?” I counter. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” he quips, too quick with his response.
I snort. “That wasn’t me requesting permission. I can walk with you, or I can follow quietly behind you. Take your pick.”
He sighs as if I’m killing him. “Fine. But we don’t know who she is, and—”
“Oh,” I sing. “I know who she is.”
“You do?” Ecaeris raises a curious brow, waiting for me to reply to the question he hasn’t asked. “Who is it?”
“Nesta.”
“Why do you think that?”
I motion to his discarded shirt still haphazardly lying across the end of his bed. “I don’t think it. I know it, feel it.”
Ecaeris grabs his shirt and turns for the door. He stomps down the hall as he pulls the fabric over his head, mussing up his already sleep-rumpled hair. I just grin at him because he’s kind of cute when he’s pouting. And quiet. God, is he hot when he’s quiet.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he grumbles as we descend the stairs.
“No, you don’t,” I snark.
“How are you so sure?”
“Because if you did, you wouldn’t have opened your mouth to speak.”
