Even then, Aya had been a serious, reserved child. The winter wind to her mother’s warm and comforting spring breeze.A cautious soul, her mother had once whispered as she tucked her into her side.But with a burning flame of love saved for those who warrant it.
But whatever flame she had sensed in Aya had been doused as soon as her own had been extinguished on the waves of the Anath Sea. And Aya had buried her fear, her pain, her guilt, and leaned instead into the only thing that made sense.
Control. Discipline. Distance.
She had found her place in shadows and darkness, in cold alleyways and dilapidated bars, in the smooth handle of a dagger and sharp steel of a blade.
She was not a beacon of light.
She was not a savior of nations or realms.
If the gods had chosen her, they had chosen wrong.
But Will had been right. Shewasdangerous.
So Aya would do what she did best. She would bury her fear and hone her anger into something cold, and quiet, and lethal.
Something that slipped through the night without detection.
Something that people never saw coming.
Something that could loosen secrets, and win allies, and maybe, just maybe, channel what was inside of her to aid in the coming war.
For Tova.
For her queen.
For the oath she had taken to protect her kingdom and serve her gods.
And perhaps for herself, too.
24
She’d tried to kill him.
Two weeks had passed, and Will was still bitter about it.
He sighed as he sat in one of the large state-rooms, his fingers drumming on the battered mahogany table. He’d just barely caught it – that flash of somethingelsein her eyes when she’d attacked him.
Aya had always been cold. But this … this was a fury so frigid it burned.
He leaned his head on his fist and glanced toward the portholes lining the wall. Nearly dawn. He wondered if she’d even bother to show up. She’d taken him seriously, it seemed, and stayed away. He hadn’t seen her since he’d slammed her state-room door so she could curse him without him having to hear it.
It was an impossible task, this journey of his. To get close to Dominic, to push through the trade terms, to get Aya to cooperate, to find a way to mask each and every betrayal he’d commit.
It was a fucking impossible task.
The door to his right clicked open.
Right on schedule.
Aya’s footsteps were near silent, her face tight as she settled into the chair opposite him. She was in her leather pants, but she’d donned a white shirt –hiswhite shirt that he’d had an attendant give her because her clothes had been covered in smoke and ash – and it slid off her shoulder as she leaned her elbows on the table, her hands clasped in front of her.
Her face was drawn and gaunt. He knew she hadn’t been eating. He had seen those untouched plates being carried out of her room and heard her hurling her guts up each night, and he wasn’t naive enough to think it seasickness. Not with the haunted look that had turned her icy eyes a dull shade of blue.
His affinity reached out instinctively, and he suppressed a shudder as it met nothing. Will couldn’t feel a whisper of her, not even the cool essence of her shield. It felt like missing a step while walking down a long staircase. But he didn’t need his abilities to read the anger simmering in her steely gaze.
She still didn’t trust him. He couldn’t blame her.
