“I know you’re the Kingmaker, and I also know you didn’t hesitate to put yourself in danger to protect a southern Sintan Hoi Polloi stranger and his men.”
Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks! Why did I do that? Stupid Medusa’s Dust. Stupid Basil. Stupid me!
Beta Sinta’s eyebrows draw together in a sudden frown. “Don’t do that again.”
I snort. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
He nods, like I didn’t just splash him with the acid in my voice.
“Come.” The conversation about upending my entire life for his political gain evidently over, he tugs on the rope. I have two options—put one foot in front of the other, or get dragged around. I put one foot in front of the other.
Once the horses are seen to, Beta Sinta sends Kato and Carver hunting and tells Flynn to guard the camp. Flynn has been carrying my satchel, and I grit my teeth while Beta Sinta goes through it, tossing my stuff around like he owns it. He sniffs my citrus soap, takes out the throwing knives and hands them to Flynn, goes through the pockets of my different pairs of pants, and then lobs the bag at me. “Time to get rid of your stink.”
I glare at him. “Charming.”
“Warlords don’t need charm.”
Maybe not, but royals do.
He leads me to the stream and looks at me expectantly. It turns into an epic staring match, and I finally throw my hands up in frustration, despising myself for cracking first. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to strip naked and bathe in front of you.”
“Turn invisible.”
“I won’t even make it to the water with four feet of rope!”
“True.” He pulls his tunic over his head, revealing a sculpted torso, powerful and scattered with scars. Most of them are small, but there’s a big one under his left arm, snaking around his rib cage from the back. The skin is jagged and raised, a shade lighter than the rest of his sun-browned hide. No healer mended that. “I’ll bathe, too.”
My eyes lock on the hard ridges of his abdomen. He’s not serious. His belt drops to the grass. He is!
He starts sliding his pants down his hips, and I vanish in a panic, taking Beta Sinta into invisibility with me. His clothes reappear in a neat pile to my left just before his voice rumbles out of thin air. “Tug on the rope when you’re ready. And don’t forget the soap.”
With my heart racing like a herd of Centaurs, I need a moment to recover the power of speech. “Use your own soap!”
“Yours smells better.”
My jaw drops, not that he can see. Of all the weird and uncomfortable situations I’ve ever been in, this one tops the list. I’m about to get naked with a Hoi Polloi Beta Sinta. Mother would have a fit, which almost makes being here worth it.
That in mind, I unbuckle my belt and pull off my tunic. My boots follow, but I can’t for the life of me get out of my pants. Not sure what else to do, I throw my tunic back over my head, and we reappear. Beta Sinta is a lot closer than I expected, and he whirls, his elbow colliding with my chin.
“Cat!” He reaches out to steady me as pain rockets through my jaw. One warm hand curls around my shoulder. The other tilts my face up, inspecting the hit. “Are you hurt?”
I bat his hand away. Of course I’m hurt, but one bash in the face isn’t the worst I’ve had.
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
What isn’t? I flush hot and red and focus on his chest. It’s a pretty spectacular chest. I refuse to look lower. I close my eyes and mumble, “I can’t get my pants off.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then he laughs—really laughs—and my eyes fly to his face. I ball up my fist, wondering what he’d do if I hit him in the chin.
Still chuckling, Beta Sinta says, “Don’t look so furious. I’ll help.”
“Stop laughing,” I demand through clenched teeth.
Surprisingly, he makes an effort. His lips press together, but his eyes stay bright, leaving an intriguing mix of humor and hardness on his face.
I take a deep breath and reluctantly uncurl my fist. Right now, Beta Sinta is the lesser of two evils.
His eyes drop to my chin again. “You handled that hit well. Like a man.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment? The last thing I want is to be hairy and stupid.”
He grins, surprising me. “Not everyone knows how to take a hit. Personal experience?”
I don’t respond. I’m not about to spill my life’s story.
Beta Sinta shakes his head. “Cat, this doesn’t have to be—”
“Don’t bother.” I hold up my hand, cutting him off. I close my eyes again since I don’t want an eyeful and then sit, leaning back on my elbows. The second I sense him reaching for me, I turn us invisible.
“How am I supposed to help you if I can’t see you?” he asks.
“I’m right in front of you,” I mutter. “Do it by feel.”
He grumbles something that sounds like “stubborn soothsayer” before one hand lands heavily on my stomach, just below my breasts. His fingers slide toward my hips, bumping over the rope. Shivers skate across my skin. I feel warmth through my tunic and then calluses as he pushes the material aside. Tension locks me in place. Having Beta Sinta’s hand on me is strange and disturbing. I’m repulsed. Definitely repulsed.
His other hand joins the first, sending a jolt of heat through me. I press my lips together, wholly unsettled.