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AFTER THE WAR MEET and the small and cold reunion with Baghra, I was utterly exhausted. My sleep was restless, and the next day, Mal had agreed to join the hunting party. So I had rose early the next morning to see him off.
By the time I reached the double eagle fountain, the path to the palace gates was swarming with people and horses: Vasily and his aristocrat friends in their elaborate riding regalia, First Army officers in their sharp uniforms, and behind them, a legion of servants in white and gold. It's weird to think I had been one of them.
I found Mal checking his saddle near a group of royal trackers. He was easy to pick out in his peasant roughspun.
"Quite a show," I said, coming up beside him. "Just how many people does it take to bring down a few boar?"
Mal snorted. "This is nothing. Another group of servants left before dawn to set up the camp. Saints forbid a prince of Ravka should be kept waiting on a hot cup of tea."
Then Mal gazed at me, and I saw a flash of awkwardness in his blue eyes. Ah, right. Mal tried to kiss me before, it's probably been bothering him for a while now. Hopefully, I've made myself clear.
A horn blew and the riders began to fall into place in a clatter of hooves and clanking stirrups. Mal shook his head and gave a firm tug on the cinch. "Those boar had better be deaf," he grumbled.
I offered him a small laugh.
The others were mounting up, turning their horses to join the rest of the party as they headed down the gravel path.
"Let's go, Oretsev," called a tracker with sandy hair.
I smiled. "Have fun, Mal."
Mal gave me a rueful smile. "Moi soverenyi," he said, while bowing.
