She sighed. “What is it? If you want to say something, Aldric, just say it—”
“I want to speak to you about your plans for Arlund.”
Her smile died. Stopping mid-stride, she brought the entirety of their entourage to a halt with her.
“What about them?” she asked with a frown.
Her Crow heaved out a breath through his nose and rumbled, “I think you should assign Sir Easome to lead the campaign in Arlund and let me stay here. In Goldreach.”
His single dark brown eye pierced her straight through with the sheer intensity of his gaze, stealing her breath all over again when he softly added, “With you.”
Chapter four
Seraphina
Unbidden, her thoughts swept back to her dream from last night. To the vision. To the way dream Aldric had cupped her cheek. The way he had tugged her in close for the kiss she never received.
No.
She braced herself, waiting for the corridor to melt away, for the vision to overtake her, for her to be pitched back onto black sands beneath crimson stars. For the world to end.
…But it didn’t.
The silence between her and the Crow grew awkward as she continued to stare down at him, slowly drowning in the gold-flecked depths of hisasymmetrical gaze.
Clearing her throat, Seraphina turned away and set off again at a far quicker pace. What had come over her? It was nerves. Nothing more. The wedding was tomorrow. Her mind was still fixating on this…kiss nonsense.
“Why?” she asked, desperate to focus on something beyond the confused swirl of her own thoughts.
Just behind her, Aldric growled far louder than was readily warranted, “For the same reason your strutting peacock mentioned: the unrest. The disgruntled murmurings.”
Seraphina’s heart leapt into her throat as she skimmed a fresh glance about the corridor. At the servants hurrying past. At her guards and subjects who were always listening. Always watching.
Oblivious, Aldric announced for any and all to hear, “My men are hearing troubling things out there on the streets, Sera. Dissatisfaction. Fear.”
Without thinking, she whirled to face him and pressed her hand hard against his shoulder, trying to bodily shove him toward the nearest open doorway.
But despite the fact that the top of his head only reached her chest, she was again caught off guard by how solid he felt beneath her touch. Her Crow was far stronger than he looked.
He didn’t budge an inch.
But the look he shot her way in the wake of her attempting to “manhandle” him was particularly acidic. “Do not push me,” he bit out, enunciating each word.
It sounded like athreat.
“His Highness and I must speak in private,” Seraphina declared to her Queensguard while sweeping toward the open doorway herself instead. “We shall not be long.”
The sitting room she stepped into was dimly lit and cold. The fireplace lay empty. The sunlight streaming in through the windows was weak.
But at least it was free from prying eyes and ears.
Before she could turn around to ensure Aldric had followed her, the door slammed shut with such force that it rattled the windowpanes. She slowly turned to face him—the angry Drakmori glaring her down.
“How would you like it if I pushed you around against your will?” he snarled, stalking closer. “Or if I picked you up as if you were nothing more than a doll?”
Lifting her chin, Seraphina let him approach with all of his ire, refusing to back down or step away. For all of his scowls and clear distaste for her person, she knew she had no reason to fear him.
Even when his very life had hung in the balance, the infamous Crow of Drakmor had not been able to bring himself to hurt her.
