could be watching every moment. That nothing was private.
“At least do that magic massage thing if you’re gonna hold it,” Rags said.
His mind was executing flips and back-handsprings, more skillful and acrobatic than his actual body could manage, to avoid the wellspring of want bubbling up inside him.
He could still slip this trap as long as he didn’t look directly at it.
As long as he didn’t name the desire for what it was.
As long as he didn’t notice the perfect shape of Shining Talon’s mouth between the twin sets of—regularly perplexed, where Rags was concerned—crossbones.
Rags couldn’t scream or throw himself out of the carriage without ruining their subterfuge. And he had his pride as a thief to consider, proving he was good at the sneaky bits.
But that mouth.
Rags just . . . wouldn’t look.
“It would be my pleasure,” Shining Talon replied.
As he turned his back to the door, the better to focus on Rags’s glass-filled hand, Rags thought about that hand. About his hands in general. Trained in dexterity, drilled for hours into days into months at picking pockets, opening locks, skirting sealed windows.
They were a tool, nothing more. He’d never put his hand in someone else’s—nothing to be gained from that. The only people who wanted to hold on to Rags were the ones dragging him in for arrest.
He tucked his knees up onto the carriage seat, let himself grip Shining Talon’s shoulder and arm for ballast against the intense pressure in his palm that gave way to greater relief.
“Am I causing you pain?” Shining Talon asked.
“Yeah. Don’t stop,” Rags replied.
64
Inis
Of everything Inis remembered about the capital, this checkpoint wasn’t one of them.
There was plenty she did remember all too well, that featured in her dreams or when her thoughts wandered, dangerously, to how life used to be. A swing wrought of ivory, dangling from a low-hanging bough. The rooftops of the Palisades glimpsed from a castle balcony, or flower-viewing days when the roses were in bloom. . . .
The checkpoint was definitely new.
“Prince Somhairle is tired,” she said shortly, not meeting the Queensguard’s eyes and hoping he thought it was deference that caused her to avert her gaze, not her shimmering hatred for everyone who wore the Queen’s crest. If he looked too close, he’d see it. She couldn’t hide it no matter whose face she wore. “It is unpleasant for him to stand while submitting to this search.”
In the meantime, two Queensguard had him holding both arms out while they patted him over. And Somhairle wasn’t swaying, but he was breathing thinly, which meant it actually was bothering him and he was refusing to show it.
Inis would have given anything for the ability to knock these men on their asses as she’d done with Cab. She might have given anything to be less sensible. To be more like their companions in the carriage, if only for the time it took to make herself feel better.
But she remained, stubbornly, like Inis Fraoch Ever-Loyal: someone who was too smart to toss her life out the window for one moment’s sweet euphoria. For the most part, her anger made her strong, but here it would give her away.
If Two hadn’t helped her to see that, she would be in trouble now.
Somhairle’s arm slid through hers once more, steadying himself against her. She’d made the right choice.
But how nice it would have been to see the looks on their faces.
They’d cut your throat, dearheart. Two’s voice was her brother’s again, affectionate and chiding in one. Cabhan of Kerry’s-End let you hit him.
One of the Queensguard moved on from Somhairle to search her instead. Inis held herself steady, tried not to wonder whether they were lingering over her backside and chest. To them, she was no one, not a member of the Ever-Lasting Houses, though being a companion of the prince should have offered her some basic consideration.
Inis told herself not to bristle. She was glad to lose herself in her connection with Two.
Thanks for the blow to my ego and my fighting skills, Two.
She felt Two’s shrug, elegant shoulders more vivid than the hands patting down the sides of her corset.
Plenty of time to get more practice in. I’ll teach you to bite like me.
“Girl’s clean,” her Queensguard said.
Inis caught Somhairle’s eye from the side and dipped her chin in a quick nod, trying to communicate without words that she was all right. That they both were.
“I washed behind my ears and everything.” Inis curtsied. “It isn’t every day a girl’s