My brows arch. “What reasons might those be?”
“Surely Pendefyre has already informed you of the Reaver rabble gathering along our borders, wreaking havoc with increasing persistence. They have taken several outposts in recent weeks. No matter how we drive them back, they seem intent on invasion.”
“The Reavers have been a thorn in Dyved’s side for years, have they not?”
“This is different. The clans have long been scavengers—striking opportunistically, sporadically, rarely twice in the same place. Not lately. For more than a month, they have been moving methodically and systematically, with a level of organization previously unwitnessed. Strange, is it not? Their newfound zeal. It makes one wonder what might be driving it. What—orwhom—they are so desperate to get their hands on.”
A spiral of unease swirls in my stomach.
“But I don’t need to waste my breath on these matters,” Yale continues. “You must know more about it than anyone. After all, I’m told you are in the prince’s closest confidence.”
I swallow hard, saying nothing.
Yale’s eyes are golden blades, whittling away any pretense. “Seeing your face in this moment, I think perhaps I need better informants. He clearly has not spoken of this to you.”
“No, but it seems you are more than eager to. Or do youmerely mean to dangle information like a carrot for me to chase? I assure you, I have no intention of doing so. I am not a rabbit.”
He smiles, a predatory flash of strong white teeth. “There’s no need for snark, Rhya—may I call you Rhya?”
“That’s my name. And, as I have no plans to refer to you asGeneralorCommander, I’m fine with a bit of informality.”
“Excellent. I’ll call you Rhya. You can call me whatever you please. The men call me Yale. Friends call me Jareth.”
“Yale will do, at present.”
His smile vanishes. “You would be wise to court my friendship. The alternative may be less agreeable.”
I do not care for his thinly veiled threats any more than I do the shrewd intelligence in his stare. But I keep my face clear and my tone light as we execute a spin, allowing him to twirl me within the circle of his arms. The tempo of the fiddler’s tune is accelerating, as is my heartbeat—though that has more to do with our conversation than the dance.
“I have friends aplenty already,” I say stiffly.
“Yes, I have noticed that. Friends of great import, no less. The prince’s inner circle has closed so tightly around you, I’m surprised I was allowed to steal you away for a dance.” His hand flexes on my waist. “One might almost think your life was in danger.”
“If you mean to scare me with vague implications—”
“Ambiguity is not my objective, I assure you. I’m delighted to enlighten you about precisely how much disruption your presence here has caused.”
“Mypresence?”
“Do you have any concept of the time it took to comb through an entire army, weeding out anyone who might be tempted to collect the bounty Efnysien put on your head?” His eyes flash with rage—a lapse quickly concealed with frigid civility. “Do you have any idea how many soldiers I was coerced into divertinghere on specific orders from Crown Prince Pendefyre, simply to protectyou?”
My eyes widen. I knew that Penn increased security within the Ember Guild after the Gower incident. Ranks tightened, allegiances verified. I was not aware he’d ordered a similar culling within the rest of Dyved’s armed forces, or that he’d commandeered some of the army on my behalf—an army typically controlled, with unequivocal authority, by the man in whose arms I currently waltz.
“What bothers you more, Yale?” I ask. “That Penn superseded your jurisdiction? Or that he did so to keep me safe?”
His grip tightens at my waist. The hand trapping mine feels like a set of shackles. “I should think even you would agree: it is neither sane nor prudent to protect one woman at the expense of the entire kingdom.”
“An attempt was made on my life. Penn is merely—”
“I know what Pendefyre is doing. Just as I know about the traitor in his own precious Ember Guild. Second Lieutenant Gower, wasn’t it?”
Yale’s eyes are so cold they rival the Remnant at my chest, which has begun to sear at my skin as he speaks—an internal alert system warning that danger is near. He’s led me so far into the crush of circling couples, I’ve lost sight of Cadogan and Jac at the edge of the courtyard. Quite abruptly, I find myself surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar faces, a crowd so dense I cannot see beyond it.
“What do you know of Gower?” I ask, somewhat afraid to know the answer.
“Only that he did not succeed.” Yale’s tone suggests he may have wished for a different outcome. “Only that there are others like him out there—so many others, we cannot keep track of the threats. Some of them may be here tonight. Some of them may be on this very dance floor.”
“And are—” I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Are you one of them?”