Dimitrios turned his body toward her. “What?”
“The supply routes,” she began, and twisted until their knees touched. “All the exported goods the bandits raided belonged to key noble households. They were Titos’s men, targeting specific provinces. When the nobles asked for help, Leonidas was to put the onus on you.”
Dimitrios’s thoughts raced back to the last conversation he overheard between Nektarios and Leonidas.
Nektarios had no idea. He’dsuspected, but couldn’t figure it out. The answer had been in front of him—in front of them all—all along. Leonidas provided Titos with Perean’s weaknesses and had ordered Tassatos to thin the military presence along the borders, citing concerns that Titos might see them as a threat. His reasoning? They were “smoothing over relations” with their ally.
Milonia continued, saying, “Leonidas was to make the lords believe that he was supporting you and your right to rule while the inquisitor made his determination.” She waved the letter. “It’s all here. Orders from Titos himself.”
Dimitrios sagged into the cushioned back. “He ruined my credibility before I could even take the throne.”
“It appears so.” Milonia’s shoulders sank. “I’m so sorry.”
“None of this is your doing.”
She pulled out the list of names that Leonidas had compiled. “Any idea what this is?”
“Those are the sole number of people I can trust, and only one remains in Perean.”
He tapped the paper beside Nikolas’s name. He’d spent the last few weeks questioning his own gut; it helped to see his friend’s name on his enemy’s list.
Milonia scanned the list. “My name isn’t on there.”
“I noticed. But, it wouldn’t be, would it?”
She went utterly still. “No?”
“You weren’t here long before his death. He had no reason to add you.”
A small smile touched her lips, soft. Unreadable. She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.
Dimitrios became keenly aware of every part of her. Where their bodies touched. Where they didn’t.
This dangerous lack of space.
Knees together.
Thighs.
Shoulders and arms.
His breath turned ragged, and down on his lap, his finger stretched across the barrier. His knuckle burned across the back of her fingers, each lifting on contact, awakened.
Milonia sucked in a sharp breath, then tasted her lower lip.
There was a gentle shift of their bodies. A tug. A pull. A desire to share the forbidden.
Roaring silence.
Heat.
Breath.
Lilacs.
A thick strand of dark hair fell across Milonia’s cheek. Dimitrios tucked it back, slowing at her ear, scraping his thumb across her cheekbone.
Her gaze fell to his mouth.
