Page 59 of Of Masks and Fury

“Your Highness,” he said, sending a snide look the other lords’ way. “The evening is mild and the moon is full. Would you do me the honor of taking a turn about the gardens?”

My hand tightened on my sword hilt.

Isi’s gaze flicked to me before she placed her hand on his offered arm. “That sounds lovely, my lord.”

The king nodded his approval. “Blain…” He shot a stern look my way, “will accompany you.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” I bowed, the faithful bodyguard accepting his orders.

We left the dining hall and made our way through the castle’s corridors.

The rear doors opened onto moonlit grounds, and cool night air washed over us as we stepped outside. The gardens spread around us in carefully manicured splendor. Rose bushes pruned to perfection, gravel paths winding between marble statues, and fountains burbling.

Beautiful. Serene. Utterly controlled. Just like everything else in Caldrith.

Isi tugged her shawl closer.

Crestin guided her down the main path, away from the castle lights and into the garden’s deeper shadows. I followed three paces behind, my body coiled tight with tension that had nothing to do with protocol and everything to do with the man currently touching my woman.

The moon hung full and bright overhead, painting everything in shades of silver.

I cataloged every shadow that could hide a person with a blade.

Some of the roses near the back of the garden were overgrown, their thorny branches creating natural choke points. Perfect for ambushes. The statues along the pathway cast pools of darkness deepenough to conceal someone crouching. The gravel crunched under our feet loudly enough to mask softer sounds. Footsteps. Breathing. The whisper of steel leaving a sheath.

I wasn’t admiring the garden. I was mapping a battlefield.

A rustle echoed from the bushes to our left. Pherin darted toward it, her tiny form vanishing into the foliage. I shifted closer, my hand on the hilt of my blade, a gesture Isi would recognize as readiness, though I saw no threats.

Pherin flew back out and soared over Isi and Crestin.

Crestin spoke of his family estates, his voice carrying a particular blend of arrogance and self-satisfaction that made my teeth ache. “Our shore properties are quite extensive, Your Highness. Twelve thousand cleks of gorgeous waterfront, with views that will take your breath away. Inland, my stables house the finest horseflesh in the realm. Blooded stock, you understand. I’ve won three regional competitions in the past five years alone.”

He stroked her arm.

I clenched my hand around the hilt of my sword, eager to pull it and gut him.

My magic stirred in the air, a gathering storm held back by sheer will alone. The mounted torches nearest me flared brighter, their flames stretching toward the sky before I wrenched my power back under control.

Every muscle in my body screamed to close the distance between us, to break every finger currently touching Isi’s sleeve. He wasn’t guiding her along the path like a gentleman. He was steering her like property, like one of his prized mares being led to auction.

The comparison made bile rise in my throat.

Isi made a soft sound of polite interest, the princess responding to a boring suitor’s stories. But I knew her well enough now to hear the thread of steel beneath the sweetness.

Pherin moved through the trees, scouting where I couldn’t see. I felt her presence through my connection to Isi, a faint thrum of awareness that said the tiny bird was hunting, watching, waiting for any threat to emerge from the manicured darkness. Gavelle watched from a tree limb ahead.

“Of course,” Crestin said, “proper breeding is essential. One must be careful about bloodlines and ensure the stock remains pure and strong. It’s the same principle whether you’re discussing horses or…” He paused. “Well, any valuable asset.”

I was going to kill him before we left Caldrith.

Isi’s fingers brushed against the pendant at her throat. She turned to Crestin with wide, innocent eyes, and I watched a master strategist go to work.

“My lord, you’re so knowledgeable about the realm’s affairs.” Her voice carried the right note of anxiety, with an undercurrent of admiration that made my skin crawl even though I knew it was an act. “My father speaks of reinforcing the southern border. All this talk of rebels is frightening for a woman to hear. Do you believe His Majesty has the situation well in hand?”

Brilliant. She’d wrapped intelligence gathering in the guise of a worried, dependent woman seeking reassurance from a strong man.

Crestin puffed up but he hesitated, scowling down at her. “Frightening, you say? Tell me more about what troubles you specifically, Your Highness. Is it the rebels' cleverness that worries you most, or something else?”