“I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t trust me?” I sputtered as my chamber doors closed behind us. “You’re going to make a scene.”
“It’s not me who is making a scene.” Prince Thorne’s head turned, his chin grazing my hip. “It is your shrieking that will wake anyone who has gone to bed and alarm those who have not yet done so.”
“I’m not shrieking!” I, well, shrieked. “I don’t prefer any of this.” I tried to lift myself off his shoulder, but his arm clamped down over my back. “This is ridiculous.”
“I know.”
Disbelief roared through me. “Then put me down or . . .”
“Or what?”
“I may vomit all over your back.”
Prince Thorne chuckled. “Please try not to do that, but if you do, it would be a good enough excuse for you to aid me in my bath.”
A growl of exasperation parted my lips as my gaze fell on the hilt of a short sword just above his right hip. I was lying across the sheathed blade. Once more, I was too angry to think about what I was doing. I lifted a hand, reaching for the hilt.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he warned.
I froze, fingers inches from the golden handle. Did he have eyes in the back of his head?
“Not unless you know how to wield it and plan to do so,” he tacked on.
“And if I did?”
“I would be rather impressed,” he remarked, and my brows shot up. “But I don’t imagine you have such knowledge.”
I could handle a dagger; Grady had taught me that much. But I knew a dagger and a sword were vastly different things, so I let out a frustrated, closed-mouth, and quiet scream as we passed through the darkened hallways.
“However, I also suspect that if you knew how to handle a sword, you wouldn’t hesitate to use it,” he surmised.
“You would be correct— ” I yelped as he bounced me. “That was highly unnecessary, Your Grace.”
“Thorne,” he corrected with a laugh. “I apologize. My shoulder . . . slipped.”
I saw red. “Oh, I’m sure it slipped, Thor.”
The Prince came to a complete stop. “I see I’m going to have to kill Bas.” He started walking again.
My lips parted as my already tumbling stomach dipped. “What?”
“He’s only half kidding,” another, whom I recognized as Lord Bastian himself, said. I lifted my head, catching only a glimpse of his chest and the opening doors of his quarters and the Lord who waited in the hall outside of them. “He’d miss me terribly if he killed me.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” Prince Thorne warned.
Lord Bastian snorted as he stepped aside. “May I ask why you’re carrying your guest like a sack of potatoes?”
Warmth hit my cheeks, but before I could speak, Prince Thorne said, “She was proving to be rather difficult.”
“Must be that six-foot-six-inch headache of hers,” the Hyhborn lord remarked.
“Now I’ve lost two inches?” Prince Thorne muttered.
“I’m just stating facts.”
Frustration boiled over. “He’s kidnapping me, and you two are arguing over how much taller he is?”
“See.” Prince Thorne squeezed me. “Even she knows I’m taller.”
“Traitor,” Lord Bastian said with a sigh.
“That’s— ” I gasped as Prince Thorne gripped my hips and I was suddenly lowered to the floor. A lamp flickered on along the wall as I pulled free, putting several feet of distance between us.
“Before I take my leave,” Lord Bastian drawled. “Crystian has left for Augustine.”
Augustine? That was the capital.
“Good.”
“You know, the King will be displeased.”
The Prince looked over at him. “We both know that.”
“That we do,” Lord Bastian murmured, then glanced at me, his smile returning. “By the way, Crystian also wants to meet her.”
“I’m sure he does,” Prince Thorne muttered.
“Who is Crystian?” I asked.
“A pain in my ass.”
Lord Bastian laughed. “Well, don’t have too much fun tonight. Morning will come soon enough, and it will be an early one.”
The Prince nodded as the Lord angled his body toward me and bowed. My brow shot up. Grinning, the Lord straightened and then disappeared.
“He’s . . . different,” I murmured.
“That would be an understatement.” The Prince closed the door. Without touching it.