The Deceiver's Heart (The Traitor's Game 2) - Page 16

She sat on the floor and began eating her bread. I’d already forgotten mine.

Instead, I said, “I think I know what happened to—”

“You don’t know anything.”

“And you do? Why did Basil bring you here? What do the Coracks want with you?”

Her eyes flashed back at me. “What do you want?”

I held her gaze until she finally looked away. Even if the truth was locked deep within her, surely she must know that she had become my only reason to do anything.

An hour after Basil was taken away, Trina came to bring me to Captain Tenger.

“Where’s Basil?” He hadn’t come back from his meeting with Tenger. Would I?

“Let’s go,” Trina said, ignoring my question.

I glanced back at Simon as I left the cell. He was watching me, as always, but this time gave a slight nod as if to suggest that everything was fine, as if he knew my thoughts. I wished I knew any of his.

As she led me through the corridor, Trina’s frown became increasingly pronounced. “We’ve only just met,” I said. “What could I possibly have done in such a short time to deserve your anger?”

For a moment, I believed her glare might actually collapse the narrow tunnel where we were walking. “I hate you more since last night, that’s true. But I’ve been working on these feelings for some time now.”

My laugh was sharp, but it served the same purpose it had back at Woodcourt, to cover up my fears. “My father says it’s better to be hated as a Dallisor than loved as one of the pathetic masses.” I winked at her. “That’s you, one of the pathetic masses.”

“You’ll feel differently when the Coracks take the Scarlet Throne and occupy the royal palace.”

I shrugged her off. “A skunk may live among the flowers, but that doesn’t make it smell any better.”

Trina stopped, closed her eyes, and I noticed her fists were clenched, but she gradually let them relax and, without a word, opened the nearby door to a room where Wynnow was waiting inside. In contrast to Trina’s near-constant scathing glares, Wynnow smiled at me. “My lady, I’ve been eager to meet you.”

I appreciated Wynnow’s politeness but questioned the false humility. Like Imri Stout, my handmaiden back at Woodcourt, and like all Brillians, Wynnow probably was as superior as she believed herself to be. Brillians were highly

intelligent, and their hearing and eyesight exceeded that of most Antorans, and their other senses probably did as well. They were also exceptionally long lived, so although Wynnow appeared to be a year or two younger than me, she might have been two or three times as old as I was.

Beyond that, it was well known that the Brillians greatly desired magic. Since Brillians could not obtain it, the Dominion believed that their scientists were attempting to imitate Endrick’s magic—his technologies, his weapons. Lord Endrick would not tolerate that for long. Maybe that was why Wynnow was fighting with the Coracks, hoping to defeat the Dominion before he turned an eye to Brill.

When Trina saw my cool greeting, she added, “Wynnow isn’t just any Corack. She’s heir to the throne of Brill.”

Wynnow said, “My mother, the queen, entrusted me to find a way to protect my country from any future invasion by the Dominion. That’s why I’m here.”

If they hoped to impress me, they’d be disappointed. I could hardly cheer for Wynnow’s dedication to a cause that threatened my family, my king. I said, “If you hope to kill Lord Endrick, you’d more easily catch sunlight in a jar. It’s impossible.”

Trina pushed between us. “For you, it obviously was.”

Before I could ask what she meant, Wynnow shot Trina a disapproving glare, then motioned for me to follow her deeper into what appeared to be a weapons supply room. Lever blades, swords, and disk bows filled various crates along the wall, in addition to a few other scattered Dominion weapons that must have been collected in post-battle scavenges.

Hanging from a hook embedded into the wall was a woman’s tunic with riding breeches, similar to what Trina wore. “It’s mine,” Trina explained. “We’re about the same size, and if we need to do any more riding, this will mean you don’t have to go sidesaddle.”

I shook my head. “I’ve never ridden a horse on my own. Riding breeches won’t do me any good.”

“But they’re better here than skirts.” Wynnow pointed to a small wooden room that looked hastily built in one corner. “You can change in there.”

“You’re joking.” And to prove it, I laughed extra loud. “It’s dark and there’s barely enough room for a single person.”

“Does that bother you?” Flecks of suspicion were in Trina’s voice. “To be in such a small space?”

I groaned. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s just inconvenient.”

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen The Traitor's Game Fantasy
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