run, and Lydia had nothing but her sleeve to wipe it with as she stood with the rest of Malahi’s bodyguards, listening to Killian argue with the Princess.
“It’s too risky!” he shouted into the open carriage door where Malahi sat with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed to slits. “There are tens of thousands of people in this city who resent you for no reason more than that you have food in your stomach.”
“And you think me hiding in my palace will win their favor?”
“I think in the palace I have a fighting chance of keeping someone from sticking a knife in your back!”
“I believe you that it’s dangerous, Killian. I believe you that there are threats out there. But I’m not a coward.”
“No, you’re a bloody idiot!”
Lena hissed through her teeth where she stood next to Lydia, and Gwen gave an answering wince. The argument had been circling around the same points for the past twenty minutes, escalating with each pass, but now they were both shouting.
“Gods-damn it,” Lena muttered. “I don’t know why he ever thinks he’ll win against her.”
“I think they both like to argue,” Gwen replied.
“I think he wants to be able to say ‘I told you so’ when something goes wrong,” another girl, Brin, chimed in before Bercola shot them all a look that said shut your mouths.
Lydia wiped the rain out of her eyes, only to be splattered with more as wind gusted against her, torrents running down the back of her neck to soak into her shirt. Though she didn’t think the other girls were wrong, watching Killian’s agitation made her wonder if there wasn’t something more to his concerns. His eyes kept drifting from the argument toward the city as though he saw … no, sensed something to be wary of. As though his mark was warning him. Yet the rain, and an occasional piece of hail, pinged off the light armor he wore in lieu of his usual black coat, and she knew he wouldn’t have worn it if he’d believed there was any chance of dissuading the Princess.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Malahi’s amber eyes were narrow. “Perhaps if you could provide me with some more specificity about the threat?”
“You know that’s not how it works.” Killian’s voice was low, his irritation drifting off him in waves. “It’s not like Tremon is whispering instructions in my ears. All I know is that today the city has a bad feel to it.”
“Will tomorrow be better?”
Killian didn’t answer.
“The next day? The day after that?” She crossed her arms. “Maybe you ought to consider that me doing something might help the feel of the city.”
Color rose on Killian’s cheeks. “Have it your way,” he snarled, then slammed the carriage door shut, coming over to Lydia and the others. “Lena, you ride inside with her.”
Lena nodded but muttered, “Lucky me,” under her breath.
“At least you get to stay dry,” Gwen replied, slapping her lover on the shoulder as she walked toward the carriage.
While their backs were turned, Killian brushed against Lydia and she felt a tug on her sword belt, then he was stalking over this massive black horse, checking the saddle girth. Glancing down, she saw he’d tucked a pair of gloves into her belt, and while no one was looking she quickly pulled them on.
Killian swung into the saddle with practiced ease, then turned to survey Malahi’s bodyguard, plus the additional guardsmen he’d seconded from the palace walls. His dark hair was plastered against his forehead, skin glistening with rain that emphasized the hard lines of his cheekbones and jaw.
“Keep your heads up and eyes open. If things go sour, your priority is to get the Princess back to the palace or to one of the gatehouses,” he said, then nodded at the coachman, who snapped the reins against the backs of the four-horse team.
Moving out at a walk, the women flanked the coach, the gates opening as they approached. Lydia adjusted her sword belt, despite knowing that it was for show. Her true purpose was to look for the corrupted. To warn the others. Though she was freezing, sweat pooled beneath her breasts and dripped down her back, and her hand went to the knife belted at her waist. Equally useless against the corrupted, if what she’d heard was true.
The carriage passed through the streets, moving slowly into the city. Mudaire was quieter than she’d ever seen it, all the bustle stalled as the people abandoned their business to