The Cursed Heir

Chapter Eighteen

Cassie's resolve to never look at James again lasted all of one day. The next morning Aldine asked her to get bread, and Cassie had only turned one corner when she spotted him. He was waiting for her, lounging against the next building with that insolent grin back on his stupid face. Cassie immediately turned on her heel and headed the opposite way. She would go the long way to Wynne's shop to avoid him. She should have expected that he would catch up to her quickly, easily keeping pace with her steps. She envied his long legs, even as she hated him for it.

"How did you sleep, blue eyes?"

He was deliberately baiting her, Cassie was sure of it. Grinding her teeth, she furiously ignored him.

"I thought we could take a ride together this morning. Aldine won't mind—I already checked."

Did he truly believe he could tempt her with a morning ride and she would be happy to see him? He should know that the solitude she got from exercising the horses was one of Cassie's favorite parts of life in Telyre. Instead, he was only interested in teasing her beyond the limits of endurance. She hated him.

But when Cassie opened her mouth to tell him what exactly he could do with his morning ride, her tongue was flooded with words of vitriol, all pushing to make it out at once. She choked on the barrage and stayed mute. It was best to remain silent. He was baiting her; she shouldn't react.

James continued on uninterrupted. "If you're worried about my superior equestrian skills, you shouldn't be. I promise to go slow. If you want to race, I'll even give you a head start."

He had progressed to insulting her now. If she'd had any doubts about his lack of intelligence, she did no longer. He was going to get himself killed.

However, despite all his best efforts to draw a response, she remained silent. There was a sort of victory in that.

James stepped ahead of her and stopped, effectively blocking her path. Short of shoving him out of the way, she had little option but to wait for him to move.

"Cassie, really," he said. "You're acting like you hate me."

She wasn't acting. "I do," she said. "You think that after yesterday—" she stopped herself.

He winced, but it was an act. Everything James did was for effect. Cassie was determined never to let him fool her again.

"This is about yesterday?" he asked. "I told you—!"

"Either get out of my way," Cassie said deliberately, "or I will make you."

Her knife was out and against his ribs, pressing a little more than gently. James leaned back slightly, but the knife followed him. He was nervous now. Good. He'd finally realized that she was serious.

He cleared his throat. "Cassie, you can't have believed how I acted in front of someone who wanted to kill us. After all we've been through, how could you think me serious?"

Cassie's knife did not waver. More lies. More jokes. She was a fool for trusting him and more a fool for being disappointed.

"It's the only time you've ever been serious," she said. "About how you feel about me." She cleared her throat, strove for equanimity, failed. "Why would you bother being that cruel unless it was the truth?"

"Okay, Cassie," James said, his voice lowering.

Any hint of a smile wiped from his face and he gave up trying to lean away from the blade. Instead, he leaned into it. Taken aback, Cassie pulled back minutely.