Ruined - Amy Tintera Page 0,15

bit strange,” Galo continued. “He’s got six pins.”

“So?”

“So it means he’s killed sixty Ruined, but he’s got the demeanor of a new hunter,” Galo said. “The ones who can’t handle it and come back after the first couple of kills and beg to be reassigned.”

“What are the hunters like?” Cas asked, turning to him in interest. Galo had never spoken about meeting hunters. Cas couldn’t imagine killing sixty people and then putting a reminder of it on his chest, but the Ruined weren’t exactly people. Still, he wasn’t sure he would be proud of it.

“The new ones are usually very much like Aren. Damaged. Terrified.” Galo tilted his head toward Aren. “He jumps at loud noises and never takes off his weapon, even when we’re drinking or exercising. He’s on edge all the time, and he never brags about those pins, even when one of the guards pressed him to. The hunters with that many pins . . .” Galo shook his head, a sour expression crossing his face. “They aren’t damaged. They usually enjoy hunting down the Ruined. They’re confident, not scared.”

Cas glanced at Aren again. “He could have stolen them. Put them on to try and impress us.”

“It’s likely,” the guard said. “Don’t put him on an important assignment until I can get to know him better. At the very least he’s too traumatized to be in any kind of intense situation.”

“I won’t. Thank you.” The word traumatized thumped in his brain, making him wonder for the first time how many hunters were currently being employed. Most came from Lera prisons, but there were some from Vallos as well. What would those people do, after they’d killed all the Ruined? Would they be expected to go back to their normal lives like nothing had happened?

“Mary looks very pretty tonight, don’t you think?” Galo’s words snapped Cas back to the present.

“Yes.”

“Have you spoken to her much?” Galo asked slowly.

“No.”

“It’s—” Galo cut himself off.

Cas sighed, turning to his friend. “Free minute.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you do. Say what you want to say. I won’t get mad.”

Galo lowered his voice when he spoke. “It’s not her fault your parents made you marry her. No one from her kingdom came with her, except for one guard. It must be lonely, don’t you think?”

Galo was right, of course, though Cas wasn’t going to admit it. But maybe he should have gone by at least once to see Mary since she’d arrived. She probably thought he hated her.

He didn’t think he hated her. He couldn’t stir up a feeling about her either way, actually.

“I did try to be nice to her,” he said. “I gave her the hint about Henry yesterday for the Union Battle.”

Galo laughed. “I noticed she ignored that advice.”

“Well, she clearly didn’t need an easy win.”

“She’s practically as good as you with a sword.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Cas said.

“I said ‘practically.’”

Cas shot him an amused look, then sighed. “I could have tried harder. I should have gone to speak with her last night after the battle. It all just feels so awkward.”

“I’m sure. But it will be more awkward if you never talk to her at all.”

“Fine,” he said, taking a step back and glancing at Mary. “But if she keeps refusing to smile at me, I’m going to stop trying.”

“Maybe you should smile first.”

“Free minute is over.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Galo laughed and returned to his spot near the wall.

Cas headed back to the front of the room, trying to twist his face into an appropriate expression. There. He was smiling. Sort of.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked Mary, extending his hand to her. He was going to have to think of something to talk about while they danced, but at least it was a start.

“Oh yes!” his mother exclaimed before Mary could reply. She gestured at the musicians, and they stopped playing. “The traditional wedding dance.”

“She didn’t have time to learn it, Mother,” Cas said. “We can just dance to something else.”

“It’s tradition! You can lead her, Cas.”

“I really don’t—”

“I can do it,” Mary interrupted. Her gaze had gone hard, as if he’d insulted her. He hadn’t meant to imply she couldn’t do it; he was simply trying to spare her the embarrassment.

“Let’s dance, then,” he said, holding his hand out to her again.

She stood, her palm cool as she slipped it into his. She glanced at him, then at the room in front of them, where people had scattered off the dance floor. The musicians in back