I understand the curiosity. I want to know who she is too. I want to know why I’m so drawn to her.
I look over to the bar and lock eyes with Meg. She’s lead tonight. I don’t have to ask her permission to take one of the workers off the floor, but I’m considerate enough to know that she’s going to need to be aware that she’s about to lose one of her servers.
I nod once in her direction and dart my eyes in the new girl’s direction. That’s all it takes for her to understand what I’m doing. Meg is a good worker, even if she’s sour most of the time.
I lead the way up the private staircase without checking to see if the woman is still behind me.
She is.
The door seals behind us, and I can’t hear anything from the floor below, but I can still see through the darkened glass.
Instead of staying by the door and waiting for my next instruction, the woman takes a few steps farther into my space. The guards and attendants that I have working in here with me all stare at her with wide eyes, but the strange woman doesn’t pay them any mind.
“Clear the room,” I order, and within a second, everyone is filing out, leaving me and her alone.
“Wow, that was spooky . . . they all move so fast,” she whispers, but doesn’t turn to look at me. I’m stuck staring at her profile. That deep pulling sensation I felt earlier intensifies in my gut. I keep my eyes on her. I want to see everything that she’s going to do. I’m completely enthralled by her every movement.
It’s concerning.
She looks around my space with open curiosity. No fear. No reverence. Just interest.
That alone is unusual. Typically, when someone is in my presence, either they are on their knees asking for a favor or forgiveness. Thinking about forgiveness, my mind flashes back to the bastard who had her cornered in the hall downstairs and the fact that I let him go too easily. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve made sure he got the message, rather than letting fear seep into him. He needed to learn more of a lesson.
“You shouldn’t have been alone,” I say, sharper than intended, breaking the heavy silence in the air.
She turns to me, confusion clear on her face, until her expression drops and she figures out what I’m talking about. “I wasn’t. It was crowded.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
She studies me for a moment. “I didn’t think I needed protection.”
“You do,” I reply.
“Why?”
I don’t answer that. I don’t really have an answer. Why should she be more protected than my other workers or customers? What’s so special about her?
Instead, I watch her eyes drift to the wall behind my desk. The framed images. The history. The pieces of my life I stopped seeing centuries ago.
She steps closer.
“These are incredible,” she murmurs.
I follow her gaze, seeing them through her reaction rather than my memory. The detail. The craftsmanship. The brutality softened into something almost beautiful.
“I see them every day,” I say, moving closer to her. “You forget they’re there.”
She glances back at me. “I don’t think I could.”
Something tightens in my chest.
I clear my throat. I need to get to the bottom of this, quickly. “You know where you are?”
“Yes.”
“And who I am?”
She nods. “The King.”
