Silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring. She saw the moment her words hit, saw something flicker across his face before he smoothed it away.
"Irrelevant," he said finally. "What matters is preparing you for court. Unless you'd prefer to continue to face them untrained? Let them see exactly how to take you apart?"
The threat was real, she'd seen the hunger in the court's eyes. But it was also deflection, and they both knew it.
"Fine," she said. "Teach me."
He moved closer, circling her slowly. The warmth pulsed with each step, reaching for him despite her attempts to contain it.
"You're holding yourself like glass," he observed. "Like you'll shatter if you move wrong. The court will see that as an invitation."
She wanted to say she felt like glass. Like something fundamental had cracked last night and she didn't know if it was breaking or becoming. But the words stuck in her throat.
"Then show me how not to," she said instead.
His hand settled on her lower back, just light enough to guide. The touch sent electricity through her, made the warmth sing, made her body remember exactly how those hands had moved over her in darkness.
"First," he said, his voice carefully neutral, "you learn to move like you haven't been thoroughly ravaged. Even when everyone knows you have."
The words should have shamed her. Instead, they made heat pool low in her belly and made her wonder if he was fighting the same memories she was.
"And how do I do that?"
"By owning it," he said softly. "By moving like a woman who chose her surrender rather than had it taken."
The warmth pulsed hard at that, and she felt an answering pulse from him, quickly suppressed but undeniably there.
They were both pretending. Both performing distance while that warmth wove between them, trying to pull them together. She wondered which of them would break first.
She suspected, with a mix of dread and anticipation, that it would be her.
"First lesson," he said, his hand still on her lower back. "Walking without looking like prey."
She took a step forward, and his hand pressed harder, stopping her.
"Already wrong." His voice came close to her ear, making her shiver. "You're moving away from me. Prey flees. Predators choose their direction."
"Then what should I—"
"Walk toward me." He moved to stand across the room, leaving her skin cold where his touch had been. The warmth in her chest pulled after him, wanting to follow. "Show me how you'd approach me in court. When everyone's watching. When they know exactly what I did to you last night."
Heat flooded her face, but anger sparked too. Two could play this game.
She walked toward him slowly, letting the warmth guide her movements the way it had when he'd been inside her. The dress flowed like water, the metal adornments catching light with each step. She kept her eyes on his, watching his pupils dilate as she approached with deliberate grace.
"Better," he said, but his voice had roughened. "Again. But this time like you're not fighting yourself with every step."
"I'm not—"
He moved faster than sight, suddenly behind her, his chest against her back. "You are. I can feel it through the warmth. That push and pull. Want and resistance. It shows in every movement."
His hands settled on her hips, adjusting her posture with clinical precision that didn't match the heat of his breath against her neck.
"The court will see that conflict and know exactly how to exploit it," he continued, thumbs finding the sensitive hollows of her hips through silk. "They'll push where you want. Pull where you resist. Take you apart using your own nature against you."
"Like you're doing now?"
She felt him smile against her hair. "Exactly like I'm doing now. But I already know all your weak points, don't I? Learned them thoroughly while you called me home."
