He let it linger there, unsure if he did it for himself, or for her.
“Thank you, Quinn,” he said. “We’ll join him.”
The housekeeper’s eyes widened slightly at the use of her name, then she nodded, stepping aside to let them pass. Greyson guided Shadera forward with the lightest pressure against her back, feeling the heat of her skin against his fingers, the tension in her muscles as they approached the dining room archway.
“Remember,” he murmured, his lips barely moving beneath his mask. “Nothing he says is without purpose. Nothing he does is without calculation. Don’t react.”
Her only response was a slight nod and her throat working as she swallowed. Then the doors were opening, and they were stepping into the lion’s den, where Maximus Serel sat waiting like a predator with infinite patience, confident that sooner or later, everyone who entered his domain would bleed.
His father sat at the head of the table like a king holding court, his golden mask catching light from the chandelier overhead. His mother and sister on either side of him looking equally nervous. Greyson felt Shadera’s subtle hesitation beside him, a fractional pause that only he would notice, before she straightened her spine and followed him into the room.
“Ah, my son arrives.” Maximus’s voice cut through the silence, measured and cold.
Maximus’s gaze fixed on Shadera, taking in the dress, the boots, her mask. His silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable, a deliberate tactic Greyson had seen him employ countless times. Finally, he spoke.
“How fascinating.” Two words, dripping with disdain. “Please, sit.”
They took their places at the table, Greyson pulling out Shadera’s chair before seating himself between her and Lira.
Servants materialized from alcoves, silent and efficient as they poured wine and placed the first course. He watched Shadera from the corner of his eye, noting how she mirrored Lira’s movements, taking her cues on which utensils to use.
Smart. Adaptable. Dangerous.
“Your bride’s transformation is quite remarkable,” his father started, speaking as if Shadera was not sitting next to him. “One would almost forget she tried to put a bullet in your head no less than a week ago.Almost.”
Shadera’s hand tightened around her fork, and Greyson felt rather than saw her preparing a retort. He pressed his knee against hers beneath the table—a warning, a plea for caution.
“So, Miss Kael,” Maximus began, swirling wine in his glass. “I understand you’re quite accomplished in your field. Fourteen confirmed kills of Heart officials, if my intelligence is correct. Quite the résumé.”
Shadera’s knife paused above her plate. “It’s not, actually.” Her voice was cold, measured. “My numbers aremuchhigher.”
Greyson tensed, but Maximus merely chuckled—a sound entirely devoid of humor. “A flaw in my system, I’ll have to investigate that.” He took a careful bite, chewed it thoroughly, then swallowed. “Tell me, how are you finding Heart hospitality compared to your accommodation in the Boundary?”
“It’s cleaner, I’ll admit,” Shadera replied casually. “The knives are sharper. The people, less so.”
Lira coughed quietly into her napkin, and Greyson caught the flash of what might have been amusement in her eyes. Maximus, however, didn’t react beyond a slight tilt of his head.
“Amusing,” he said, his tone suggesting it was anything but. “How do you think your lover is doing in your absence? Jameson Vine, I believe his name is?”
Greyson felt Shadera go perfectly still beside him, the name silencing her. He hadn’t known that name—hadn’t known there was someone specific in her life. The thought shouldn’t have bothered him. It did.
His father continued. “The Ghost is what they call him, isn’t it?”
Greyson’s stomach hollowed.
Ghost.
He hadn’t even considered the connection. He had never seen his face when they traded information, only ever received a name. Ghost—the rebel leader. His contact in the Boundary.
The tremor in his hand flared to life and he pushed his hand under the table to hide it as Shadera’s eyes slowly dragged toward his father.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Shadera said, but the lie was transparent, her voice too controlled, too careful.
“Come now.” Maximus set down his fork. “Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence.”
The servers returned, clearing plates silently. Greyson watched Shadera’s profile, saw the muscle in her jaw flex and release, flex and release. Her own hand had disappeared beneath the table, and he suspected it was now curled into a fist on her thigh.
He wanted to reach for her. To let her know he was there, that violence here, in this room, wouldn’t get them anywhere but the platform. But he stayed still as his heart began to rapidly accelerate.
