“Is it what I think it is, then?” Thrace asks, voice dropping to a whisper.
“Forget it, Thrace. It’s of no concern to you.”
“It is, Zhoric.Youare my concern. You always will be.”
“You have a family now,” Zhoric says, placing his hand on the door I’m pressed against, his forearm a hair’s breadth away from skimming my throat and clavicle. “Make them your concern.”
“Keeping you safe is keeping them safe. You know that.”
Zhoric’s fingers dig into the wood. “Speaking of keeping them safe, any trouble with the elites after what her sister did?” I have to stop myself from pressing in closer.
“You’d have known long before now if there was.”
“Good. So, Kalixta and the babies are safe.”
“You know they are,” Thrace answers, but the tone is threaded with mild suspicion.
Zhoric’s eyes narrow at the subtle cunning gleam in Thrace’s expression as he moves in a little closer, but Zhoric holds his ground. “Speaking of Kaisa…” Thrace pauses, as if waiting for a reaction. “Has Ozias come pestering you since he took her?”
I wasn’t sure what Zhoric thought of my escaping to the Realm, but it seems that he and Thrace have discussed it before.
“Blissful silence from him.” Zhoric lifts his free hand to look at his nails.
“It turned out to be rather lucky he was there here still. What a mess that would have been for you if I’d had to intervene instead.”
Was that why Thrace came that night? To stop Alixor? I wait for Zhoric to admonish him for it, but he doesn’t. My insides swirl with unease. When Zhoric says nothing, Thrace goes on. “I wonder what would have happened if you’d let me go—”
Zhoric interrupts him before he can finish his sentence. “Thrace.” His tone is deep and cutting. Thrace’s mouth twitches against the threat of a smile. I chew on my cheek, wishing I could have heard what Thrace was about to say. “The elites have been keeping the hoard along the border busy. Any news there?”
“I heard they almost got their hands on two rogues recently. Some reports say one of them of was Ozias himself.”
Zhoric’s shoulders relax, his hand on the door slipping a fraction, putting his forearm closer to my chest. “They do love to spin a tale.”
“The other was gray. Accounts say the draconem’s mane was the same shade of green as your eyes.”
I scowl. That particular detail bothers me, like even my dragon form wants to find any sort of connection to Zhoric.
“How fanciful of them,” Zhoric answers, unbothered. “Perhaps if they spent less time crafting pretty reports, they’d make more headway on the front.”
“As if that’s what you want,” Thrace counters, his words laced with sarcasm.
My mind is spinning. Isn’t that what Zhoric wants?
Zhoric changes the topic again. “Aside from begging an invitation into my suite, have you any other reason for being away from your bonded and children?”
“Are you annoyed?” Thrace asks with a wry grin.
“Thoroughly,” Zhoric answers.
“Then I’ve done all I can.” Thrace turns on his heel and walks down the long hall, throwing up a hand after a few steps. “Let me know when you’re ready to divulge that secret you’re keeping.”
Zhoric’s mouth draws into a thin line as he shuts the door. “Insufferable brute,” he says, dropping his forehead with a thud against the wood. The words, though harsh, are said with reticent affection.
“What was that?” I ask, crossing my arms.
Zhoric twists his neck in my direction, not bothering to lift his head from the door as he pins me with his eyes,staring so long I wonder if he even heard me. Long enough to make me not want to ask the question again for fear of hearing his answer.
“Follow me,” he says, lifting his head and opening the door. I blink after him as he strides down the silent corridor.
