Page 27 of Court of Talons
“Well, thank the Light you didn’t help more, or my whole family would be dead.”
“Look.” In one swift movement, Fortiss sweeps me behind a tent where they are hawking spiced corn. He reaches out to grab me by my shoulders—presumably to lift me up and shake me like a witless doll. But my sense of self-preservation kicks in just in time and I jerk back. He pursues me until my shoulders brush up against the fabric walls of the food vendor’s tent, andhe leans forward, giving me no chance of escaping further. “I get the feeling there’s a lot you think you know, Lady Talia. About everything?—”
“It’s a gift.”
“But youdon’t,” he continues resolutely, his eyes flashing as his jaw works. “You don’t know the powers at work here, you don’t know what it is to be a warrior, and youdon’tknow how much your father has done your brother and your house a disservice by refusing to honor the Lord Protector. Everything Lord Rihad does is to support the houses, to keep us strong, and you stay up in your mountain hideout like you can’t be bothered to interact with the rest of us. It’s a problem.”
I stare at him, my mind spinning. Has Father ignored the direct summons of the Lord Protector? It wouldn’t surprise me. Father hasn’t left the mountains since Merritt was born—not once.
Not once.
Unfortunately, Fortiss is still spewing on, unable to recognize my willingness to soften my stance on our discussion. “You should be grateful you’re still alive out there in your fringe fiefdom, not making demands and expressing outrage that the forest is a dangerous place.”
Well, so much for softening.
“Theforestdidn’t attack us,” I shoot right back, driving my finger into his chest, expecting to meet bone. It’s not bone—it’s muscle. Alotof muscle under his shiny gold shirt. But I won’t be distracted by that. “A man and his dirty gray arrow did. And I—we—were lucky to survive that arrow and the assault that happened next. My handmaidendiedin that attack, Lord Fortiss. Five of our soldiers did too. While you just ran. A. Way.”
He grits his teeth so loud I can practically hear his jaw pop. “Well, youdidsurvive. You and your brother made your way to the Tournament of Gold. Here, Lord Merritt can make yourhouse leagues stronger. Especially if he steps on the tournament field to claim his birthright as a first-blooded and firstborn warrior. You should focus on that, Talia of the Tenth. Focus on building him up, keeping him strong. He’s young, but his Divh?—”
“You saw his Divh?” I can’t help myself. I stop poking and flatten my hand on his chest, vaguely registering how hard his heart is pounding. “A-afterwards? After the arrow was shot? You saw him?”
Fortiss’s gaze locks with mine. His face is so close, I can smell his breath—spices and mulled wine, the drink of those with money to spare and time to enjoy life’s bounty. “Talk of Divhs is forbidden for any woman, Lady Talia,” he murmurs, “or is that something else you’ve forgotten about, up in your mountain home?”
“Tell me!” I urge him, and now, somehow, both my hands are on his chest. It’s a wide chest with plenty of room, but I’m still not quite sure how my hands took up residence there. The heat that pulses from it warms my cheeks, my neck, and sends spinning whorls of fire through my belly. “I’ve never seen it, not from a distance, not really at all. Was it—was it powerful? Was it fierce?”
“It was beautiful,” Fortiss says, surprising me with the word—surprising himself too, I think. He dips his head lower, until his lips hover just above mine. “Powerful too.” He leans a fraction closer and softly, gently, his lips brush my mouth, taste my fitful breath. Then he rocks back on his heels and grins down at me. “But, eh…not so fierce, I think.”
“You lie!” But I’m laughing suddenly, and he is too, and he pulls me away from the food vendor’s stall, spinning me into the crush of people thronging through the makeshift square. I’m out of my depth again, my heart pumping too fast, my mind churning with too many thoughts. I glance up—and blink.
A woman stands at the far end of the courtyard, watching me with cold and curious eyes. Her skin is deeply tanned, her mouth thin, and she wears no paint that I can see. She’s tall and sturdily built, and though she’s fully cloaked, her hair hidden beneath her hood, I sense she could shed that cloak in an instant and have daggers in her palms. I reach out almost blindly for Fortiss and meet his gaze urgently as he turns back to me.
“Who is…” I begin, turning back to where the woman stands—then break off lamely as I stare at the empty space. She’s disappeared like a puff of wind, so fast I wonder if I imagined her. “Never mind.” I shake my head, and Fortiss grins down at me.
“A truce, fierce Talia of the Tenth, for the short time we have together?” he asks. In that moment, laughing at me with his golden eyes, his easy smile, I think I’ll never meet another man as beautiful as he is—and certainly will never want to. Just the sight of him turns my brains to mush.
“A truce,” I agree. “And maybe?—”
“Lord Fortiss.”
We spring away from each other as if we were caught tumbling in a haymow, and I smooth my hands down my dress, shifting my left shoulder back as Fortiss’s two retainers stalk up. The bigger one bows with deference, then straightens. “Lord Rihad requests your presence at once.”
The soldier’s gaze shifts to me, and his dark eyes categorize me as quickly as so many other men have tonight. A tendril of fear snakes through me. “I can escort your lady back to her camp.” Beside him, his fellow solder takes my measure too, and the creeping sensation worsens.
“Ah—honestly, I’m good,” I stammer, stepping away, but Fortiss merely nods.
“Yes, do that, Ginn.” He looks to the second soldier, clearly forgetting me. “What’s this about?”
“What ho, Lady Talia!” Caleb’s bright, brash voice breaks over us as Ginn moves toward me. I whirl around to see my sturdy squire bounding up, sandy-haired and wide eyed. He’s once more in Tenth House green, and he practically dances with excitement as he greets me, grinning ear to ear. I could kiss him.
“Whatluck,” I say, far too brightly, but I don’t care. I turn back to where Fortiss blinks at us and don’t look at Ginn at all. “I’ll just be on my way. Thank you, Lord Fortiss—and for your offer, sir—but don’t trouble yourself, we’re off?—”
I practically drag Caleb away.
Chapter 11
Caleb deposits me back at the tent with Nazar, who tells him that Merritt will be returning soon before sending him off for spiced nuts and honeyed mead. By the time my squire returns a second time, I have re-established myself as Merritt, my face scrubbed free of paint, my legs back in Light-blessed breeches and boots. True to his word, Caleb takes me ’round the whole of the tournament grounds, where I watch and listen almost as much as I laugh. I don’t see Fortiss again, nor the strange woman from the crowd.
I’m also no longer leered or sneered at. Not even once.