spyglass onto his bed. “Wil.” Then his arms were around me, strong and solid as he buried his face against my neck. “You shouldn’t be here.”
And he shouldn’t be holding me like this, not when he wore nothing but a loose nightshirt and trousers, and his hair was messy from sleep. Still, my heart galloped as our bodies pressed close together, and my fingertips explored the ridges of his spine. He fit me.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered. “Never mind. Don’t answer. Just don’t be a dream.”
“Would dream-me threaten to split you from stomach to sternum only a day after healing you from a similar injury?”
He gave a soft snort. “Yes. Absolutely.”
So he dreamed about me? Often?
I closed my eyes, indulging in the feel of his body pressing on mine for only a moment more before I whispered, “We can’t do this.”
He groaned, like reality returning, and stepped back. “I’m sorry.” His eyes followed me as I knelt and retrieved my daggers. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Forgive me .
He’d probably just been relieved I wasn’t Patrick, creeping in to finish the job. But word was that Patrick had been spotted in one of the piedmont villages across the mountains. He was far from here.
I slid my daggers into their sheathes and took the folded note from my belt. After a second’s hesitation, I offered it to him. “I thought if you were going to sneak letters into my room, I should get to have fun, too.”
“And you had to dress as Black Knife to do it?” He took the letter, holding it like it might bite.
“Do you know how hard it is to climb over the roof while wearing a gown?”
A sly smile welled up in the corner of his mouth. “None of the court ladies will loan me a gown to try.”
“Well that’s just rude of them.” I started a slow circle around him, making a show of inspecting the way his nightclothes hung over his lean frame. If he wore a bandage anymore, I couldn’t see it beneath the dark blue silk. “I have a dress you could borrow, but your hips are all wrong for it.”
He offered a playful frown. “Now who’s rude? You’ll have to learn to be more diplomatic if you’re going to be queen, Wilhelmina.” He moved to a bookcase, struck a match, andlit a candle. Soft firelight glowed across the angles of his face, revealing the tension that still hung about his jaw and neck and shoulders; this teasing was a desperate attempt for normalcy, though between Tobiah and me, or Black Knife and me, I couldn’t tell. He looked like one and acted like the other, and wasn’t truly either.
Why couldn’t they have been separate boys?
“Now tell me the truth.” His tone was somewhere between the prince who always got what he wanted and the vigilante who was never denied. “James already warned me that you asked for clothes and weapons, and while I’m flattered you wanted to deliver your letter personally, in the middle of the night, and looking like you’re ready to do battle . . .”
My fingers trailed along the balcony curtain, making shadows ripple. “It’s no trouble. I was going out anyway.”
This scowl was real, and fully the disapproving prince. “Don’t.”
I crossed my arms and thrust back my shoulders. “You can’t stop me.”
He slammed the letter onto his bookcase and stalked toward me. “What are you going to do? Steal a horse and ride to Aecor after him? He’s gone , Wilhelmina.”
“He tried to kill you!”
Tobiah pressed his fingers against my mouth, just thin silk between us as he tilted his head toward the bedroom door. “There are guards.” His voice was low, but demanding. “Let the Indigo Army and Order handle Lien. It’s their job.”
I wrenched myself away from him. “You really think your men will find him?”
He gave a deep nod; his expression betrayed only weariness. “I must believe it.”
“How well do you trust them? Do you know all your soldiers personally? The police?” Images of police marching through Skyvale
And he shouldn’t be holding me like this, not when he wore nothing but a loose nightshirt and trousers, and his hair was messy from sleep. Still, my heart galloped as our bodies pressed close together, and my fingertips explored the ridges of his spine. He fit me.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered. “Never mind. Don’t answer. Just don’t be a dream.”
“Would dream-me threaten to split you from stomach to sternum only a day after healing you from a similar injury?”
He gave a soft snort. “Yes. Absolutely.”
So he dreamed about me? Often?
I closed my eyes, indulging in the feel of his body pressing on mine for only a moment more before I whispered, “We can’t do this.”
He groaned, like reality returning, and stepped back. “I’m sorry.” His eyes followed me as I knelt and retrieved my daggers. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Forgive me .
He’d probably just been relieved I wasn’t Patrick, creeping in to finish the job. But word was that Patrick had been spotted in one of the piedmont villages across the mountains. He was far from here.
I slid my daggers into their sheathes and took the folded note from my belt. After a second’s hesitation, I offered it to him. “I thought if you were going to sneak letters into my room, I should get to have fun, too.”
“And you had to dress as Black Knife to do it?” He took the letter, holding it like it might bite.
“Do you know how hard it is to climb over the roof while wearing a gown?”
A sly smile welled up in the corner of his mouth. “None of the court ladies will loan me a gown to try.”
“Well that’s just rude of them.” I started a slow circle around him, making a show of inspecting the way his nightclothes hung over his lean frame. If he wore a bandage anymore, I couldn’t see it beneath the dark blue silk. “I have a dress you could borrow, but your hips are all wrong for it.”
He offered a playful frown. “Now who’s rude? You’ll have to learn to be more diplomatic if you’re going to be queen, Wilhelmina.” He moved to a bookcase, struck a match, andlit a candle. Soft firelight glowed across the angles of his face, revealing the tension that still hung about his jaw and neck and shoulders; this teasing was a desperate attempt for normalcy, though between Tobiah and me, or Black Knife and me, I couldn’t tell. He looked like one and acted like the other, and wasn’t truly either.
Why couldn’t they have been separate boys?
“Now tell me the truth.” His tone was somewhere between the prince who always got what he wanted and the vigilante who was never denied. “James already warned me that you asked for clothes and weapons, and while I’m flattered you wanted to deliver your letter personally, in the middle of the night, and looking like you’re ready to do battle . . .”
My fingers trailed along the balcony curtain, making shadows ripple. “It’s no trouble. I was going out anyway.”
This scowl was real, and fully the disapproving prince. “Don’t.”
I crossed my arms and thrust back my shoulders. “You can’t stop me.”
He slammed the letter onto his bookcase and stalked toward me. “What are you going to do? Steal a horse and ride to Aecor after him? He’s gone , Wilhelmina.”
“He tried to kill you!”
Tobiah pressed his fingers against my mouth, just thin silk between us as he tilted his head toward the bedroom door. “There are guards.” His voice was low, but demanding. “Let the Indigo Army and Order handle Lien. It’s their job.”
I wrenched myself away from him. “You really think your men will find him?”
He gave a deep nod; his expression betrayed only weariness. “I must believe it.”
“How well do you trust them? Do you know all your soldiers personally? The police?” Images of police marching through Skyvale
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