"Stop?" His smile was cold. "Are you giving me orders now?"
"I'm asking you not to hurt her for being decent."
"Decent." He tasted the word. "How human of you to confuse survival instinct with morality. She helped you because she's afraid and being useful to you might mean protection from me."
Briar glanced at Seraphin, still kneeling among the flowers. Was that true? Had the warnings been self-preservation rather than kindness?
"Oh, now you're thinking," Eliam said softly. "Now you're beginning to understand. Everyone here serves their own interests first. Even—" His smile widened. "—especially those who claim otherwise."
"Like you?"
The words slipped out before wisdom could stop them. His eyes flashed with something that might have been surprise or anger or dark delight.
"Careful, little thief. My patience with your tongue has limits."
"Since when?" The challenge rose in her throat, born of frustration and confusion and the memory of his mouth on hers. "You seem to enjoy it when I fight back. When I challenge you. Otherwise, why keep me around at all?"
Silence stretched between them, taut as a drawn bowstring. Even the garden seemed to hold its breath.
"You think you have me figured out?" His voice dropped to something dangerous. "Think because I kissed you instead of killing you, you understand what I want?"
Heat crawled up her neck, but she held his gaze. "I think you don't understand it yourself."
Something shifted in his expression. For just a moment, she glimpsed something raw beneath the cold control. Then it was gone, locked away behind winter.
"Get up," he said to Seraphin without looking at her. "Return to your duties. If I find you've been... helpful again without permission, we'll discuss appropriate correction."
Seraphin scrambled to her feet, gathering her tools with shaking hands. She bobbed a quick curtsey and fled, leaving Briar alone with him among the watching flowers.
"As for you," he said, attention returning to her with uncomfortable intensity, "we need to discuss tomorrow night."
"The dinner?"
"Unless you'd prefer to repeat last week's performance? Being hand-fed like an infant while the court laughs behind their hands?"
Shame burned fresh at the memory. "I've been studying—"
"Have you? And what have you learned?"
"That your books contradict each other and your rules make no sense."
"Then you've learned the most important lesson." He stepped closer, backing her against the garden wall. "Nothing here makes sense by your standards. Stop trying to apply logic to a world built on whim and will."
"Then how am I supposed to survive it?"
"By accepting what I tell you and following my lead, by not trying to be clever when you don't understand the game." His hand came to rest on the wall beside her head, caging her in. "Or did you think your week of study made you ready to navigate centuries of custom?"
"I thought—"
"You thought wrong." His free hand caught her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Tomorrow night, you'll do exactly as I say. Every gesture. Every word. Every breath if I deem it necessary. Understood?"
Defiance flared in her chest. "And if I don't?"
"Then I'll let you fail. Completely. Publicly. And when someone takes offense, and they will, I'll let you handle the consequences alone." His thumb brushed her jaw, the touch at odds with his harsh words. "Is that what you want? To prove your independence by bleeding for it?"
"No." The admission tasted bitter.
"No, what?"
