The fire. I should’ve realized. The servants must’ve kept the fire burning because he haunted the space while the rest of us slept.
I hadn’t heard his steps. Hadn’t felt the echo of his magic until he was too close. He was clamped down tight—nothing for me to read. Even now, as he stood half-shadowed in the archway, all he presented was a dark shape.
Still as a statue, he finally moved his head, and his face caught the firelight.
Emrys’s eyes drank in every detail as he looked at me, head slightly cocked. It was as if he was trying to make sense of the image I presented.
I gestured toward the table, the movement casual though my heart thudded in my chest. “Had trouble sleeping,” I said with forced lightness. “I hoped reading could help me relax.”
A flicker ofsomethingpassed over his face. His lips curved slightly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
He crept toward the book. Something about his movements made me nervous, though I couldn’t have said why. There was no overt threat in him. But beneath the surface, a restless energy simmered.
He glanced down at the book I’d been pretending to read then he looked back at me. As he got closer, I saw that it wasn’t only his movements but also his gaze that held that uniquely wild quality usually reserved for creatures caught in a trap.Thatwas what was setting me on edge.
My eyes followed his to Tegil’s osprey. My brother had said I was adaptable, just like those great birds. He’d said they dove into the depths, made a huge splash, and always rose from them victorious.
I’d just destroyed my orders. Burned them like they were trash. I wouldn’t let Emrys—letanyone—intimidate me into being anything less than what Tegil thought me to be. I steeled myself for whatever challenge or insult the curse was about to throw at me.
He stepped forward. Once. Twice. He didn’t move like a man. Slow, deliberate, and silent as a drawn blade, he made my skin prickle. His breathing was even, unnervingly so for the intensity of his stare, like he was anticipating something.
By the third step, I found myself with my back to a panel between two shelves, the polished wood gently pressing into my spine. I should’ve been panicking, but Emrys’s presence always seemed to cloud my judgment.
His arms came up, bracing against the wall on either side, caging me in. He didn’t touch me, but he was so close I could feel the heat radiating off every inch of his skin.
This proximity, his heat, turned my brain into an egg set to fry.
He leaned in slightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, smooth rumble, yet somehow still brittle. “Lavender,” he said, the tone holding too much meaning for a simple flower. “Did you put that on for Nisien?”
I flinched—whether from the sound or the question didn’t matter. My pulse jumped as my hand rose, pressed lightly to his chest. I convincedmyself it was to shove, but really it was an excuse to touch him. “No. Move.”
The words were right, exactly what I should say, but there wasn’t an ounce of conviction in them.
Gods, what was I doing?
No, what washedoing? Since I’d arrived, he’d been ignoring me or running away, without fail. Now, he was inches away from my face, his breath warm on my skin, looking into my eyes like I was…something.
Emrys didn’t move at my soft push. If anything, he leaned closer.
“I saw you kiss him,” he said, voice quiet but edged with suppressed bitterness. “Made me wonder if I’d walked into a late-night rendezvous.” His hand flexed once against the wall like he wanted to pull back but couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“No rendezvous,” I hissed, trying but failing to force my hand to move from his chest. “For one, why would we meet in the library when his rooms are right down the hall from mine?”
“So, you’ve been in his rooms?” The question was an accusation.
I squinted, anger simmering. “No.”
But I have thought of being in yours.
His mouth twitched, something like a hollow laugh ghosting out between his teeth. “You don’t have to play coy. I know why Maeron sent you.”
My spine went rigid. He knew.He knew.
But how much did he know? And the way he said it…the hasty, pointed words felt like he was throwing spears in the dark, hoping one would hit squarely on the truth.
"It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. Maeron never sends anyone without an angle." His eyes pinned me in place, though I couldn’t quite meet them. “Nisien hasn’t figured it out yet. But then, he’s always been too trusting.”
Was he just pushing to see if I’d confess my guilt? My stomach twisted itself into knots at the same time as my hand itched to move on his chest. Gods, what kind of person did that make me?
