Riven Dain had been in plenty of tight situations before, but almost getting shot wasn't something he'd planned for.
He leaned against the stone wall of an abandoned building, flexing his arm where the arrow had grazed him. A shallow wound, nothing serious, but the fact that he'd been hit at all made his grin widen.
The girl was good.
No-she was better than good.
His mind replayed their fight in the alley, the way she moved-fast. precise, completely unafraid. And her eyes... fierce, sharp, a shade of stormy gray that could freeze a man in his tracks.
Not to mention, she was beautiful.
Not in the delicate, polished way the noblewomen at court were. No, this girl-Kael, he'd heard the older man call her-was wild. Untamed. She looked like she belonged to the shadows, with her dark hair tied back in a simple braid, her sun-kissed skin marked with faint scars, and her tall, lean frame built for battle.
She was nothing like the women he'd known in the palace.
And yet, she had hesitated to kill him.
Interesting.
"You're smiling like an idiot," a voice muttered.
Riven turned, rolling his eyes as his companion, Jorrik, slipped into the ruined building. Jorrik was a wiry man with dark blond hair and an ever-present scowl, dressed in the same leathers as Riven.
Unlike Riven, however, he wasn't enjoying their situation one bit.
"Care to explain why you let her live?" Jorrik continued, crossing his arms. "You had plenty of chances to get rid of her."
"Now, why would I do that?" Riven mused, rubbing his jaw. "She was fun."
Jorrik sighed. "This isn't a game, your highness."
Riven shot him a warning look. "Not here."
Jorrik huffed but lowered his voice. "The warlords are looking for you. If they find out who you really are, you won't be able to joke your way out of it."
Riven's smirk remained, but his eyes darkened slightly.
He knew the stakes.
It was why he was here in the first place-hiding in the rotting skeleton of a city that most people in the kingdom had forgotten.
Ravaryn was dangerous, but it was also where he needed to be.
If he wanted to reclaim the throne, he had to start here.
Still, he wasn't worried.
Not yet.
"You should've killed her," Jorrik muttered again.
Riven shook his head. "No. I think she'll be useful."
Jorrik scoffed. "You just like the way she tried to stab you."
"That too," Riven admitted, grinning.
Meanwhile...
Kael paced the small, candle-lit room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The walls of the hidden chamber were lined with weapons, maps, and old books-everything Bast had collected over the years.
Her mentor sat on a wooden stool, sharpening a dagger, his expression unreadable. "You hesitated."
Kael's jaw tightened. "I should've killed him."
Bast said nothing.
Kael hated that.
Finally, she exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "He wasn't a thief. He moved like a trained fighter."
"And?" Bast prompted.
"And he wasn't from Ravaryn," she muttered. "Too clean. Too sure of himself."
"Smart girl." Bast flipped the dagger, catching it smoothly. "That means the question isn't who he is."
Kael frowned. "Then what is?"
Bast's single eye locked onto hers.
"It's why he's here."
Kael's stomach twisted.
She already knew the answer.
Trouble.