Khayrivven’s shoulders twitched as if in a silent chuckle, and he turned around, facing her from the other end of the room. “You look better.”
“Better than after you left me here, dirty and bleeding? Or better than in that last dream?”
Khayrivven absently gritted his teeth, folding his arms over his chest. “All right, no beating around the bush. Let’s jump right in, shall we?”
Why he would be surprised she had questions was beyond her. “You didn’t expect menotto bring it up after what you showed me.” Gaze flicking to his shoulder, she got to her feet, leaning her good side against the wall.
Khayrivven dipped his chin. “I assume you have questions.”
Lory gave him a tight grin. “How did you guess?”
That painted a smirk on Khayrivven’s face. “If it wasn’t for the fact that you want to bite my head off right now, I’d tell you how sexy you look in those.” He gestured at the shirt and pants, not so unlike the color in the dream, only without the embroidery and a more functional, lighter material, and tighter fitted—now that she was thinking about it, they looked nothing like the soft fabrics from the dream. Khayrivven cocked his head. “Maybe the fact that you want to bite my head off is exactly what makes you so appealing.”
“Part of my charms.” Lory instantly regretted faking nonchalance with a shrug, the movement sending a flash of pain down her arm and spine, and she suppressed a flinch.
This time, Khayrivven’s grin was genuine. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, he prowled closer, stopping a few feet away and gazing down at her from those storm-gray eyes. “Let me explain a few things before I let you ask questions, and lay out some ground rules.”
“Ground rules,” Lory echoed, wondering which version of Khayrivven Falcrest she was talking to: the captain or the man.
“Yes, ground rules.” He didn’t pause long enough for her to interrupt again. “You can’t talk to anyone about my magic or your ultimatum. Second, whateverthis”—he pulled ahand from his pocket to gesture between the two of them—“is, I’m still Veiled Hand at Ashthorn Ward, and you’re in my direct chain of command.”
Lory inhaled a deep breath to tell him there was nothis—at least none that either of them had acknowledged—but Khayrivven rolled on. “Third, you have three months to get your powers under control. If you don’t, there will be nothing anyone can do to save you.”
I don’t need saving. The words built in Lory’s throat, but Khayrivven shook his head. “Ask what you want to know.”
Twenty
With trembling hands,Lory smoothed out the fabric of her shirt, buying some time to find the words to phrase the question burning at the tip of her tongue.Was any of it real?The kiss, the fire in his eyes, the unquestionable heat between them, but they kept evading her.
With a steadying breath, Lory decided on the more obvious question. “Why are you alive if you are Flame-born? Why didn’t Ulder have you killed? Why amIalive? Why this ultimatum? Didyouconvince the Triad to let me live? Why?—”
“That’s a lot of questions.” Khayrivven was smiling, as if her open curiosity was the highest praiseanyone could give.
“You told me to ask, Captain, remember?” Ignoring the lick of warmth inside her belly, she held his gaze, determined not to crumble under the intent in his eyes or the way he casually took a step closer.
“Are you ready for a long story, Lory?” The fact that he used her name rather thanGutter Gemmade her want to bridge the three-foot distance between them and tell him she was ready for anything as long as it was the truth, but this wasn’t a dream where she could be bold and demanding. This was the harsh reality, where her pain told stories of his power in these halls and his eyes of the moments he wished he didn’t. “Perhaps we should sit down.”
With two strides, he was at the wall, bracing his back against it and sliding into a cross-legged position, the saber at his back unsheathing itself with the motion and landing, hilt down in his waiting hand.
Had this not been about to become a life-altering conversation, she might have asked him to show her how that worked.
He didn’t wait for her to sit; instead, unsheathing his sword and placing both weapons beside his hip, on the side farthest away from Lory, as he spoke.
“When they discovered my powers, I had already received the captain title. I was on active duty and—” He paused, watching Lory sink into a sitting position next to him, strands of hair dancing around his head as he ran a hand through it while his eyes roved the long, black braid dangling over her shoulder.
“And?”
He rapidly blinked a few times. “And I’d proven my loyalty in the Brestolyan military and Ulder at the front lines.”
Now it was Lory who became flustered. “Front lines? Brestolya isn’t at war. It hasn’t been since the uprising of the…”
“Flame-born, you can say it. Our ancestors fought Ulder’s; that’s why he’s so afraid of us.” The way he said it… as if there were more than an accidental Flame-born captain and ashling he regularly interacted with.
“But that was an attempt at a revolution, right? Our ancestors tried to take the lands from the kings of that era.”
Khayrivven gave her a knowing look. “After the Great Purge, one would think fewer magic wielders were left, yet they keep popping up in the streets of Dunai. Have you ever wondered where they come from?”
She hadn’t, actually. Not when she’d inhabited the back alleys of the city—she’d been busy with merely surviving back then—and not when she’d found out about Ashthorn Ward and its purpose. She’d merely assumed they were rare relics of a time when magic had been a natural part of these lands.
