Because Malahi wasn’t wrong: nothing about Lydia suggested a street fighter from Axbridge. Her posture was as perfect as any courtier’s, her teeth were intact, her nose was too straight to have ever been broken, and her skin was devoid of the inevitable scars that came from combat. And those damnable spectacles didn’t help. “She’s good in a fight; trust me.”
Lydia chose that moment to send an arrow sailing sideways into one of the curtains. Malahi arched one eyebrow, then shook her head and went back to her writing.
Leaving the guardswomen to Sonia’s instruction, Killian prowled around the ballroom, his mind on other things. In a matter of days, this room would be full to the brim with nobility and Malahi would be at risk for every second of it. For the next hour, he scoured the room until he knew every inch, coming up with plans for fortification and escape routes, one of which he was going to have to build himself. He was assessing the glass doors to the balcony when an exclamation of surprise caught his attention, something clattering to the floor near his feet.
Lydia’s spectacles. Reaching down, he plucked them up and turned. Lydia was staring at him with dismay. “Are they cracked? The string caught the frame, and—” She broke off, color rising to her cheeks.
Polishing a fingerprint off one of the lenses with his sleeve, Killian said, “No damage.” He handed them back to her, feeling the smooth brush of her fingers against his as she took them, her hand warm from exertion.
“Thank you.”
They stood staring at each other; then Sonia appeared at his arm, causing him to jump. “It’s your elbow, Lydia,” she said, then to Killian, “She needs to see. She learns by watching. You, Captain. You show her. Your form is satisfactory.”
“Satisfactory?” He looked at Sonia, thinking it was a joke, but there was no humor in her hazel eyes.
“Exemplary aim, of course. But form”—she shook her head—“satisfactory.”
From across the room, he could hear Bercola howling with laughter. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Killian took the bow and arrow from Lydia. Drawing it, he aimed at the target, which was laughably close.
“Hold there please, Captain.”
Killian dutifully stood still while Sonia’s small hands poked him in various places as she explained form and stance, Lydia asking the occasional question. But when Sonia adjusted his elbow, Killian gave her a dark glare. “I don’t think so.”
“Even you can stand to improve, Captain.”
He allowed the string to slip from his fingers, and a heartbeat later there was a loud thunk as the arrow hit the target. He knew without looking it would be at the center of the bull’s-eye.
Several of the girls whistled with appreciation, but Sonia only lifted one eyebrow and tucked a lock of her short hair behind her ear. Taking the bow from him, she retrieved an arrow and in a blur of motion let it loose, splitting his arrow shaft in two.
“I fought for General Kaira,” she said, naming the marked Princess of Gamdesh. “In comparison to her, you are just a boy playing with toys. Now if you’ll excuse us, Captain, you’re interrupting my lesson.”
Shaking his head, Killian started toward Malahi, who was watching him, her expression unreadable. Before he could reach her, Gwen stepped inside the doors to the ballroom and cleared her throat. “High Lord Hacken Calorian is here to see you, Your Highness.”
Then the doors swung the rest of the way open, and Killian’s older brother stepped inside.
43
LYDIA
Everyone stopped what they were doing as a man of perhaps twenty-five years of age came into the room. Even without having seen his likeness on several paintings in the Calorian home, Lydia would have known the man was Killian’s eldest brother. They had the same dark hair and eyes, sculpted features, and darker skin, both of them possessing slightly fuller bottom lips that would make anyone with eyes look twice.
It was there the similarities ended.
Where Killian was broad shouldered and muscled, High Lord Calorian seemed almost slight in comparison. Lydia put him at around her height at six feet, but that still made him half a head shorter than his younger brother. And where Killian was covered with tiny scars from a lifetime of combat, his nose crooked from being broken, Hacken was … flawless. Beautiful.
But there was something in his eyes that made Lydia want to step back. To look away. To avoid his attention landing on her at all.