Theo found Edric exactly where he'd promised to be, seated on a barstool in The Quick Whisperer. It was a boisterous night, loud conversations laced with gossip over what had happened in the lord's dungeons. That news would be on everyone's mind for days to come.

His comrades took up seats at a table nearby, leaving him to drag out a stool and plop down next to the rebel's second in command. "I thought I made my desires clear," he drawled. "I want to speak with Lady Mask."

She wasn't here, as he'd hoped.

"You made 'em clear enough," Edric growled, lifting his tankard and finishing it before slamming it down on the bar top. He flicked his fingers, motioning for anther. The bar man took the mug, refilled it, and set it before them, looking towards Theodred before widening his eyes. Theo motioned with his head, declining a drink.

There was only one thing he wanted tonight.

"You think that just because you freed me, I'll turn into your lapdog?" Edric lifted his brows.

Theo slid his jaw back and forth, trying not to clench his teeth. Every nerve in his body was on edge—had been, since sweet Sophie had almost kissed him earlier that afternoon. Gods, he'd wanted to kiss her, too. And yet, he'd held back.

It wasn't because he'd promised her father he'd be honorable. Not entirely, anyway. It had a lot more to do with the kiss he'd shared with Lady Mask. He wasn't entirely ready to give up on that. Even remembering it sent a wave of pure want rushing through him. He'd feared that a kiss with Sophie would only be something to whet his appetite. Truthfully, he was holding out for whatever else Lady Mask might have in store for him.

Sophie was worth more than that, even if he did already feel something for her. She deserved someone better, someone committed. Besides, she was already engaged.

"I want to speak with Lady Mask," he found himself growling in Edric's direction.

"Relax, Princeling. I'll take you too her just as soon as I finish my drink." Edric lifted it to his lips. He looked the rebel over, trying to determine if the man was lying. "You did free me, did you not? Guess that earns you a meeting with her, at the very least."

He huffed, but said nothing else as Edric drained his tankard, then threw a handful of coins on the bar top and stood. Theo stood with him, throwing a quick glance at the others. They rose and followed him out.

Edric took him around a set of storefronts and through a back door leading into a storage room. Judging by the bolts of fabric, it was a clother. His eyes homed in on the cloaked figure sitting in the shadows almost instantly, like a beacon. Lady Mask. Something in his chest loosened at the sight of her, even disguised as she was. Just her mere presence had the pressure easing.

He didn't care to explain why, or acknowledge how much power that feeling had over him.

"Thank you, Edric, you can leave us—all of you."

Edric tensed beside Theo. "I am not sure that is a good idea, my lady—"

"He freed you, did he not? Surely that earns some trust on his part?"

"Unless he freed me just to get to you."

"Do you truly believe that?"

Theo watched their back and forth, fascinated. Her voice was low, almost a whisper. But familiar, as if all the nights he'd been dreaming of her had imprinted upon his soul.

Edric's shoulders fell. "We'll be just outside, my lady."

He felt a rush of satisfaction. Was it selfish to want her alone, all to himself? At this point, he had no reason to harm her—the opposite, in fact, much to his annoyance.

From the shadows, a few others shuffled out, following after Edric. Theo gave his companions a nod, a silent command to join them. It wasn't as if they were worried for his safety.

With the others gone, the silence between them stretched. "What's the matter, Princeling, no witty comments? Surely our kiss together wasn't enough to render you speechless."

And, there it was. That smart mouth he was coming to love. A smirk settled on his lips. "Does freeing your rebels earn me another?"

She scoffed. "Come and sit down. Let's talk."

There wasn't the usual bite to her low, hushed voice, and he wondered if his decision to free Edric was perhaps the best he'd ever made. He hated that he wanted her approval. Yet, here he was, doing exactly as she asked.

That desire was pushed down deep, forcing him to maintain his usual demeanor. He grabbed the chair she'd motioned towards, flipped it around, and straddled it. His forearms rested atop the back. He set his chin down on his arms to gaze into the depths of her hood, wishing for all the world he could see her face.

They stared at each other.

"I've decided to switch sides," he found himself blurting, like an idiot.

"Who says I want you on my side?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed. "Why wouldn't you want a handsome princeling such as me?"

"Why, indeed," she mused. "Especially when that handsome princeling is such a good kisser."

He opened then closed his mouth, then smirked until his cheeks crinkled. She thought he was a good kisser? But, of course he was! Or was she just jesting—

"Good kisser or not, if you want to switch sides, you're going to have to offer me something in return. Freeing Edric then making bold claims of allegiance is one thing."

"What, then, do you want?"

"Justice for our people. People have died, Your Highness. On both sides. The difference is, only one man is responsible for those deaths, all because he couldn't honor his agreement."

Theo lifted his head, a rush of possibility flaring deep in his chest. He'd already sent a letter off to his father earlier that afternoon. But he wouldn't tell her that.

"I'll make a deal with you," he found himself saying. "I'll see that justice is served, that Lord Lasker is held accountable for his breach of contract. That the people of this region are given what was promised, wood products at the agreed upon price. An end to the rebellion. But I want to see your face."

She hummed. "Some might argue that the word of a ruler is binding, but I wonder if your word, given your...reputation, can be counted on."

Heat seared his skin. "I can assure you," he said, his words clipped, "that if I say I'll do something, I will, Lady Claws. You can be certain of that."

"Fine. Deal."

His brows jumped up. "Deal?"

"Deal," she repeated.

He stood, flinging the chair aside and holding out his hand. "Then let us shake on it."

She, too, stood, holding out her hand. It was a small, delicate thing. He found himself eying it. He reached for it and sighed the moment her warm palm was against his. The feel of her skin sent heat blasting up his arm and through his body. Just when he was about to release it, he changed his mind and used it to pull her close. Her chest slammed against his and she gasped. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her there, captive against him.

Gods! Everywhere she touched him seared hotter than dragon fire. His heart took off in a pounding gallop, like it might burst free. He inhaled, the sweet scent of chamomile and citrus swirled around him. A familiar scent...too familiar.

"Now, your mask, Lady Claws."

She let out a rough, low laugh that scraped his insides in all the right places. "Oh. I don't think so. I didn't say I'd show you my face now, did I? Uphold your end of the bargain and I'll unmask myself."

He growled, reaching for her face with his free hand.

The snick of a blade sounded before he felt metal against his throat. A chuckle spilled from his lips. "Oh, I do like you, Lady Claws. But seeing your face was part of my bargain."

"And yet, you weren't wise enough to outline when I actually had to show it to you. Would you be so dishonorable as to unmask me against my will? Without my consent?"

He cursed under his breath. Gods! He wanted to. How easy would it be to grasp at that gilded mask and pull it free. She wouldn't dare slice his throat open. But even if she did, that puny blade in her hand wouldn't do much. He'd heal.

They both knew it.

Her chest rose and fell against his. He could feel the press of her breasts against him, and his body responded, hardening. A groan fell from his lips. "You will be the death of me with your sharp claws, and your cutting tongue," he growled. The sound of her breath stagnating was reward enough. "Fine, keep your mask. For now."

Then before she could let out a gasp, his lips were on hers, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, over the fabric of her hood, pressing their mouths together. She made a little sound of surprise. The blade didn't leave his neck, but she was armed enough to end this, if she truly didn't want his lips on hers. She could slice him, force his retreat.

She didn't.

Her lips moved against his, and then her mouth opened and her tongue swept in, claiming his. His breath caught in his lungs and he made a hungry sound, the low rumble vibrating between them. She tasted exactly as she smelled, of chamomile and citrus, like she'd been drinking tea.

Something tugged at his memory, that scent. He'd smelled it earlier. Smelled it when Sophie Lasker had nearly kissed him in the library. His thoughts turned more coherent—

She tugged at his lower lip with her teeth and he gasped. Gods, this woman. Why did she drive all rational thought from his mind?

He kissed her like he was starved, like he hadn't gone hunting in months, like she was the one thing that would keep him from death. He didn't allow her pull away, and was rewarded when the blade at his neck dropped, her arm falling limp. Both their breaths mingled, quiet bursts interlaced in the silence that followed.

"What are you doing to me?" he demanded, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. He ignored the cool feel of her mask against his skin. "I've never even seen your face, and all I can think about is ripping every piece of clothing off you, brushing my lips over every inch of your skin. You can keep the damn mask on if you must, as long as you'll let me kiss you. Everywhere."

"Oh, gods," she bit out, a shocked gasp. She tried to push at his chest. A weak attempt. Hardly any muscle behind her movements.

"No, just a moment longer," he pleaded. Actually pleaded. Like hew was begging. And...maybe he was. She stopped fighting him, sighing against his lips. "Tell me you feel it too," he breathed. "Tell me that it isn't just me, this...this thing between us. Our first kiss—I could excuse that away. But this...tell me you wanted it."

"I would have slit your throat otherwise."

He huffed, their lips brushing. "You would have, I know. And then you would have been heartbroken over slaying your handsome princeling. Would you have cried at my funeral?"

She snorted and resumed her weak attempts to push him away. This time he let their bodies break apart. "We both know a blade like this won't kill you."

He grinned, then lifted a shoulder. "So, tell me, Lady Claws—something about you that isn't related to the rebellion. I suddenly find that I wish to know everything about you."

A scoff fell from her lips. "You cannot be serious."

"Dead serious." He returned to the chair he'd vacated and made a show of sitting down again. "I'm not ready to leave this room yet, and everyone out there thinks we're negotiating. I think our negotiations have gone quite well, don't you? So, indulge me."

"Why?"

"Because you intrigue me and suddenly I just cannot get enough." The words were out before he could stop them, before he could chastise himself for making such a foolish admission. He couldn't afford to care about her. The plan couldn't—wouldn't—change. He needed to end this rebellion and leave—sooner rather than later. Before his heart made a different decision, an irresponsible decision, one that would hurt her more than it hurt him.

He'd never cared about things like that before—hurting women. He always made a point of being honest. Making sure they knew he wasn't in it for serious reasons. It wasn't his fault if they made it more than it was.

Surely Lady Mask knew that. Still, he couldn't help wanting to know more about her. Wanting to know everything.

She suffered a long, drawn out sigh. "I like art."

"Art?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Looking at art, or creating art?" His mind flashed to the gallery room he'd stumbled upon in Lord Lasker's castle. He tried to tell himself the information was meaningless—

"Both, I suppose. But especially painting. And I like sparring, too. And archery. Sneaking about in the shadows. But you could already discerned that much for yourself, no?"

"Just a bit," he said, and found himself chuckling.

"All right, what about you then? When you're not off putting an end to rebellions, or getting into girls' beds, or partying, what are you doing?"

He shrugged, looking for a witty remark but falling short. "I like reading, actually. Spending time with my friends—" He gestured, a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the ones outside the door. "Also sparring," he added, grinning. "And flying."

"Flying," she mused. "Sometimes it's easy to forget you turn into a dragon."

"Not sure how anyone could forget that!" He found himself grinning.

She inhaled. "So, how do you plan on delivering on your end of the bargain? Bringing Lord Lasker to justice."

Just like that, she dissolved his good mood with more serious talk.

He rubbed at his jaw. "I have a few ideas. What do you think of his son? Or even his daughter?"

"His...his daughter?" Her voice wavered, but only slightly.

His eyes narrowed, assessing her. "Got something against a female ruling over a dragondom? That comes as a surprise, given your own rule over an entire rebellion—"

"No! That's not...that's not it. I just...I mean..." Why was she suddenly so tongue-tied? Gods, if only he could see her expression under that damned mask. "I mean...isn't his daughter stuck in bed most days? I hear she is unwell. But his son...the oldest? I think he would make a fair, if not just ruler. What are you thinking? To depose him and allow his son to rule?"

There was a long pause before he said, "I'm considering it."

"You wouldn't simply...strip his family—his entire family—of their titles?" She sounded surprised by this.

Something strange was forming in the pit of his stomach. Something he was hesitant to look too deeply at. But it felt a lot like suspicion.

He shrugged, then stood. "I haven't entirely decided. Either way, I've got work to do. I'll figure out what needs to be done. From what I'm coming to understand, you've already done quite enough, fighting for the people of Woodport. Hold off on your...raids for a bit. I'll get word to Edric when I require another meeting, and we can go over the final preparations of my plan."

With that, he stood and strode from the room, only nodding to his companions on the way out, for them to follow. There were too many thoughts swirling in his mind. Too many emotions.

But one thing dominated it all. His suspicion. He needed to get back to Lord Lasker's keep, and quickly.

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