His bird watched him, barely sparing a glance at the others.
The woman’s gaze dropped before lifting back to his. “One of us was sick.” She glanced toward the shorter woman with tightly curled black hair.
“Something I ate,” the black-haired woman said. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, and she swiped it away, her sharp gaze seeming to pierce through the throne, finding where I hid.
“Somethingyouate?” Trew huffed. “Yet you all left?”
“We traveled together,” she said, sending a frown the other woman’s way. “I told them I wanted to leave. Things always feel better when you’re in your own home. We’d seen enough and the others agreed it was time to leave.”
“Did you see anyone in the hall outside the viewing room?”
The jaw of the oldest man tightened. “No one unexpected. Only warriors moving about, as usual. A few guards.”
“Did anyone enter the viewing room as you left?”
The other man shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. We closed the door and secured it with magic.”
Trew’s power buzzed again, and the four flinched but remained steady, only their widening eyes betraying their new fear of their king.
The hum faded and their postures loosened.
“Thank you.” Trew rose. “You may go.”
The guards escorted them from the throne room, their footsteps echoing down the hall until the doors had swung shut.
I stepped out from behind the throne and crossed the space between us, perching on the edge of the smaller throne beside him.
The velvet cushion felt plush and rich under my palms.
Trew’s gaze slid down my frame, and something hot and unguarded flashed through his eyes before he leaned back, deceptively relaxed. For a breath, he didn’t look away. His stare felt likepossession, as if the very act of me sitting there carved something about us into stone.
Then his thick lashes dropped, cutting the connection with a sharpness that made my skin prickle. The retreat wasn’t mercy; it was calculation.
It made me wonder what he’d do if he ever stopped pulling back.
“You look good sitting there,” he drawled.
I leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, matching his calm. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late. You look like you’ve been there for years. And I like the view.” The corner of his mouth curved. Not quite a smile. More of a challenge. “Do you actually believe you have any say in this?”
“You’ve gotten used to people doing what you want. I’m not one of them.”
“No.” His voice dropped into something rougher. “You’re worse. You make me want things I shouldn’t.”
I arched a brow. “And yet you keep wanting them.”
His gaze dragged over me again, slow enough to make heat climb my neck. “Noted.”
Silence stretched, heavy with the memory of our kiss and the way he’d looked at me in the viewing room, like every barrier between us was temporary at best.
“They were telling the truth,” he finally said, his voice returning to that clipped, decisive tone that had irritated me at first but now made flames shoot through me.
I lifted my gaze to his. “Then who tried to kill me?”
The flicker of heat in his eyes deepened into something colder, deadlier. “I don’t know. But I will.”
His growl ripped out. “No one touches what’s mine.”
