The Deceiver's Heart (The Traitor's Game 2)

And Harlyn was probably still watching me, having made it perfectly clear that when my heart was open to other possibilities, she would be there waiting.

If any relationship remained between Kestra and me, Harlyn threatened to corrupt that too.

Harlyn was already awake when my eyes opened the next morning. I’d taken the second watch, but she insisted on a third, claiming that she rarely slept much anyway. She was tending to our small fire now, and whatever she was cooking smelled delicious. When she noticed me, she said, “There’s some hot tea and biscuits, if you’re interested.”

I definitely was, and by the time I got there, she had poured a mug for me and had three firecake biscuits ready. I thanked her, though when she smiled back, I quickly looked away. I’d spent half the night thinking about my conversation with Trina, and the other half thinking of everything Harlyn had said. If I’d slept at all, then Kestra was in those dreams. I’d watched as she faded away from me, like mist in the sunlight.

By the time I finished eating, Harlyn had packed up most of our camp, including tethering my horse to the other animals already pulling her wagon. “We should leave soon. Who knows how much time we’ll have?”

“Probably not much.” I did a quick check of my satchel to be sure everything was still in there. My eyes rested on my sketchbook as a wave of sadness washed over me. I doubted I’d ever draw in it again. Hoping to distract myself, I asked Harlyn, “Have you been to the Nesting Woods before? Do you know anything about them?”

“Nothing beyond what Basil told us last night.” She drew a deep breath and looked at me. “My father won’t be happy that you changed his orders. He doesn’t see the point of defending Reddengrad.”

“He should. Because if the Dominion—”

She laughed, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Simon, I understand it. I agree with you, and when he joins us, I will tell him so. But I thought I should warn you that he’ll be angry.” Now she patted my arm before walking away, sending echoes into my heart, awakening what I thought had died in me. “It would be easier if you’d claim the throne now.”

I said nothing to that and instead simply climbed onto the bench of the wagon. She joined me but rode us away at a fast clip that, thankfully, made conversation difficult. I rather wished it had been impossible.

We traveled that way for most of the day, taking breaks only when necessary. When we had to talk, I spoke only about the coming battle. How many Halderians did she expect would fight? What were their skills? Halderians were far more experienced on horseback than on foot—could they compensate if the thick forest was too dense for horses?

Harlyn answered every question precisely and confidently, making it clear why her father relied on her as much as he did. I’d have to rely on her too when the battle came.

By late afternoon, we saw a thick forested area cresting on the horizon. The Nesting Woods.

Harlyn stopped the wagon so we could get a better look from a distance. “At a good pace, I think we could arrive in another hour or two.”

“Then let’s go.”

“First we have to talk.”

I took a deep breath and clenched my jaw. “W

e’ll lose our light soon. Can this wait?”

“I’m afraid not.”

I knew what conversation was coming. The unspoken words between us had been the invisible third member of our party throughout the journey, and if it were up to me, they would remain that way. Reluctantly, I turned to face her and despite my bristling irritation, I couldn’t help but smile. Her cheeks and nose were windburned, and her hair was tousled, but she finger-combed the curls back with one hand and gave a shy grin. Harlyn was anything but shy.

She said, “This is about us.”

I bumped a fist against my thigh. “There is no us.”

“But there could be. I’m not a subtle person, Simon, that should be obvious by now. I like you. And while I relish the idea of a long courtship in which I convince you to like me too, the fact is that we might not even survive the rest of this day.”

“And?”

“And my father is sick, though he hides it well. He will not be around to command the Halderians much longer. His replacement will be a disgusting, scaly man who escaped torture years ago at the hands of Kestra’s father.” She took a deep breath, then added, “This man offered to marry me in exchange for my father naming him as the next commander of the Halderians. He has a specific grudge against Kestra, because of her father. He cannot be allowed anywhere near the throne.”

My eyes darted away, looking at anything but her. “Do you want me to take the throne for Kestra’s sake or for yours?”

“I want you to take the throne. When you do, if I’m at your side, everyone wins. The Infidante will be protected. The Halderians get a just king, and a wonderful queen, trust me on that. Instead of a scaly old man, I get you. And instead of an empty seat at your side …” She took my hand. “There’s me.” Her eyes bored into mine and a rush of heat flooded through my chest. “We could be a good match, and I think you know it. That’s why you’ve been so nervous around me.”

I didn’t answer. Nor did I release her hand. Instead, I froze as a debate raged within me. My heart wanted Kestra at my side, only her, and it begged me to ignore the logic and reason of Harlyn’s plan. Begged me to believe in a dream.

A memory. A possibility that no longer existed.

Harlyn squeezed my fingers, drawing my attention back to her again. “Give me a chance, Simon.”