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“You didn’t?” she asked.

“Did you see the state of the room? Not exactly a place I would want to curl up in.”

Thicket’s head snapped up. “And you let me sleep there knowingly?” Her cheeks flamed once more at the sight of his bare chest, still only half covered by his shirt. She jerked her head away once more as he finished tugging the shirt down.

“You were tired and needed your beauty sleep.” He frowned, leaning forward to pluck something from her hair and tossed it aside before she could see what it was. “Or maybe just sleep.”

“You let me sleep on a mattress with bugs!” she accused.

“I wiped them off.”

She gaped at him. “Bugs!” she repeated, hoping to emphasize her point.

He only shrugged. “Perhaps you could ask them to change your fate.”

Thicket scowled. “Is this going to become the new clock tower quip?”

Amusement glittered in his brown eyes but he didn’t respond.

The silence made electricity buzz in her stomach and she was suddenly all too aware of the memory of his fingers, picking glass from her hand. Her fists clenched, tugging at the scabs marring the skin above her knuckles.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He arched an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For coming to get me. For bringing me here.” Even though it was infested with bugs. “And for healing my hand.” She couldn’t bring herself to fully bring up her panic attack yesterday. The memory alone was enough to make her face burn all over again. But she thought it still deserved recognition.

“It’s my job to protect you—including and especially from yourself.” He leaned in, forcing her to meet his sharp, impenetrable gaze. “But if you ever do something like that again, I will drag you back to the house and lock you in your room until it is time to storm Minloc.”

Despite herself, she smiled. “Noted.”

Marcellus’ harsh expression faltered and he looked away. The moment was gone in an instant as he crossed the yard to retrieve his sword. “So, Princess, what do you want to do now?”

That was the question of the century.

What did she want to do? What should she do?

She didn’t have her Aneuma. She was still subpar at magic. And she was still expected to defeat her sister.

In less than a week, she would be forced to act. She knew this, but still couldn’t imagine facing Lavender as she was now.

Thicket glanced down at her hands. Her magic had failed her time and time again. She didn’t feel like she was the strongest. She felt like she was barely keeping up.

Marcellus was far more capable than she was and he almost never relied on his magic. He relied on himself and the skills he had honed with his sword. Thicket didn’t want to be rendered useless should she lose the only weapon she had. She wanted to have options.

She wanted to feel powerful.

She wanted to prove to her people that she was capable of saving them.

But more than that, she wanted to prove it to herself.

“Marcellus?”

“Yes Princess?”

“Teach me how to fight with a sword.”

Marcellus agreed on three conditions: