where the thorns grow

CHAPTER TWO,

  "I'm not sure I want to be a bloody saint," Asteria murmured, "but you're welcome, Rhys. Dom?"

  "Leaving too, thank you." He grinned. "We have some things to do."

  "Your work is appreciated. Now go before it's too late."

  They both scrambled off. Once they were out of earshot, Dom whispered, "Constanza's a bit less fun than I thought, considering all the praises Danna sang about her."

  She agreed. But because she refused to agree with him, she shot back, "She's a spy. If she looks interesting at first glance then she probably isn't that good of one. Use your brain."

  "You're just disagreeing with me for the sake of it. I can tell you agree. I saw your face during that entire period for Hongyun's sake."

  She just glowered at him. She hated how easily he read her. For some reason she could never do so as accurately to him. It was infuriating on every level. And somehow, she was the more mysterious one out of them both. She was the one hiding dark demons and shadows and the like while his background was cleaner than the fucking day sky.

  "See?" he smirked. "I'm right. As always."

  She just shut her eyes and shook her head, too tired to argue with him any further. Because she did need to find a way to avoid the Meliqueans without anyone noticing. Which would be difficult, because as the only female Iron Wolf, all eyes were on her.

  Usually she was fine with it, but there was attention from certain individuals even she did not want to attract. Mainly because they'd most likely end with a knife in her back.

  Deserters pay in blood, after all.

And I didn't just desert, did I? I betrayed. I joined up with the enemy. Though I supposed this was the side I was always supposed to be on.

  She was Saian. Her parents had been Saian. She'd always been Saian. Sometimes her friends looked at her and wondered about her heritage and she'd always kept quiet, telling them she didn't know. That they'd taken her when she was young. That she didn't remember.

  She remembered.

  In all these years her friends hunted and searched for Cuckoos and Meliqueans within their own ranks, they never turned to her.

  She wasn't idiotic enough to take that all for granted. When either side discovers the truth—Saian or Meliquean—her life would be forfeit. This fragile illusion she'd spent years building up for herself could be shattered in a split second. Every second, every moment had to count.

  He said, "You have something on your mind."

  Instinctively she replied, "Unlike you, who never has anything in your head at any given time."

  "That can't be true, if we manage to work together." But his expression held no humour. "Spill, Rhys. You seem rather... unsettled by the prospect of the Meliqueans being here."

  "Oh, like you want them to be here?" she retorted.

  "No, of course not," he said, shaking his head. "But you seem... scared. You know they won't be able to actually do anything, right? Irina's just a pessimist, and, well, she's angry. Practically spitting tacks. She's taking out her rage where she can and we're letting her because you can't have a public royal wedding if the bride decides to do something drastic."

  Rhys rubbed her forehead. "She always used to be the one who's logical in these kinds of situations, weighing the advantages and disadvantages and making sacrifices when necessary. This is extreme, even for her."