A Clash of Honor - By Morgan Rice Page 0,72

she not interested? It appeared as if she wasn’t. He was becoming exhausted.

“I am the son of a King,” he said, and immediately regretted it. He hated boasting; it was not who he was. But he was desperate and found himself flailing, and he did not know what else to say. It just came out.

“And?” she prodded. “What difference does that make?”

Reece did not understand her.

“To most women in this kingdom, that would make a great difference,” he said. “All the difference in the world.”

Slowly, she shook her head.

“I’m not most women,” she said. “I am not impressed by titles, or land, or riches. I will leave that for other women.”

He studied her, trying to understand her.

“What does impress you then?” he asked.

She seemed to think for a moment.

“Honesty,” she said. “Loyalty. And maybe…perseverance.”

“Perseverance?” he asked.

She smiled coyly.

“And what of your love life?” she asked.

Reece stumbled.

“I’m not presently engaged to any woman,” Reece responded, trying to sound noble and proper. “If I were, I would not be speaking with you.”

“Wouldn’t you?” she asked, smiling, clearly enjoying this. “And then why would a King’s son take an interest in a simple villager?”

Reese took a deep breath. It was time for him to tell her how he felt.

“Because when I look into your eyes, my lady, I see far more than a simple villager. I feel something that I’ve never felt for any woman. When I look at you, I cannot look away. And it takes my breath away to see you. My lady, I am in love.”

He was shocked and proud of himself. For the first time, he had stopped stumbling and had managed to get it all out, to say how he really felt. He could not believe the words had escaped. But they were all true. And now that they were out, it was her turn to react as she wished.

For the first time in their conversation, she seemed truly caught off guard. She blinked several times, and shifted, and he could see her cheeks flush.

“You speak strong words,” she said. “How am I to know they are true?”

“My lady, I never lie,” Reece replied, earnest.

She looked down and toed the sand.

“Words are just words,” she finally said. “They don’t mean anything.”

“And what does mean something?” he asked.

She shrugged, silent. He could tell that she was guarded, slow to trust.

“And then how do I prove my love to you?” he pressed.

She shrugged again.

“You have your world, and I have mine,” she said. “Sometimes worlds should stay that way.”

Reece felt his heart falling, and couldn’t help but feel as if she were telling him to leave.

“Are you asking me to go?” he asked, heartbroken.

She looked into his eyes. They were soulful, knowing eyes, and he felt himself getting lost in them. He could not tell what her expression said.

“If you wish,” she replied.

Reece’s heart dropped.

He turned and walked off, feeling crushed. He was confused; he wasn’t sure if he had been rejected—but he certainly had not been embraced. Selese was a mystery to him; he wondered if he would ever understand her.

He increased his pace, heading back towards his Legion brothers, towards a world he did understand, and wishing he had never come here. If this was the girl who had saved his life, a part of him wished it had never been saved at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Godfrey ran through the back alleys of the seediest part of King’s Court, trying to keep up with the young boy as he weaved in and out of the crowds, running ever since the graveyard. Akorth and Fulton trailed behind him, struggling to catch up, breathing hard, not in as good shape as he—and Godfrey was not in great shape, so that wasn’t saying much. Too many years in the alehouse had affected all of them, and chasing after this boy was a mighty struggle. As Godfrey heaved, he resolved to turn over new leaf, to stop drinking for good, and to start getting into shape. This time, he meant it.

Godfrey shoved a drunk out of his way, sidestepped a young man trying to sell him opium and pushed his way past a row of whores as this part of town became worse and worse, the alleys narrowing, filled with sewage and mud. This boy was quick and knew these streets well, twisting his way through shortcuts, around vendors—it was obvious that he lived somewhere close.

Godfrey had to catch him. Clearly, there was a reason this boy was running, why he had not

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