Page 145 of The Winner's Kiss
“A fair warning. I’m better at this than you are.”
“We shall see.”
Arin heard a crash in the trees.
A Herrani scout. He ran to Arin, his face shiny with sweat.
The Valorians were coming.
The emperor led her to his bedroom. The summer hangings on the bed were gauzy, the sheets disturbed. She could see the dent left in a pillow by his head. The room smelled of his oils: powdery pepper, bitingly sweet balsam. Rain tapped the black windowpanes.
“Wash your face,” he said.
There was a mirrored basin in the corner. Kestrel did as ordered, though her face wasn’t particularly dirty. She was startled by the stranger in the glass and tried not to stare at herself. She caught a glimpse of shocked, light eyes, made lighter by tanned and freckled skin. A strong face.
She folded the towel and joined the emperor where he stood near an octagonal table. He had produced a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“I’ll serve,” she said, which made him give her a sleek look of amusement. She poured the red wine, but neither of them touched their glasses, and they both knew that the other suspected that some sleight of hand had poisoned the cup.
“Disarm,” he said.
“I will if you do the same.”
He unbuckled his dagger and set it gently, yet heavily, on the table. Her fingers fumbled as she undid hers.
The dagger Arin had made her looked plain next to the emperor’s—but strong, like her unexpected face in the mirror.
“Interesting.” The emperor stroked it where it lay. “A new acquisition? Perhaps this will be my prize when I win.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“I haven’t decided what I want.”
She opened the satchel, set the velvet bag of tiles on the table, and moved to sit.
“Not yet.” He held out his hand. She gave him the satchel, which he examined. Satisfied that it contained nothing else, he dropped it to the floor, then said, “You’ll have no objection, I’m sure, if I make certain that you hide no weapons on your person.”
Her skin prickled. “I give you my word that I don’t.”
“The word of a traitor is hardly to be trusted.”
So she stood rigid as his hands moved over her unarmored body. They didn’t linger, except when he pressed his fingers to her throat, and then pressed harder to feel her pulse jump and run.
He said, “You’re welcome to do the same to me.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” He seemed to dare her to admit that she didn’t want to touch him.
“I trust you.”
“Well then, little liar, let’s play.”
The approaching Valorian army shone in a silver river under the sun.
Arin looked through a spyglass. He couldn’t find the general.
There was a thin, whistling whine.
