“Aren’t you worried about people seeing my eyes?” I asked.
“This part of the Citadel is private. Only the people who should see your eyes are around.”
My legs burned as I followed him up the steep steps, briefly slowing at a tall, narrow window. It faced the garden, and I squinted hard, trying to make out the kitchen door. As if on cue, someone bustled out of the wall in the far corner, something like baskets dangling from their hands.
I scrambled up the next few steps before Callen noticed my pause. Finally, the stairs gave way to another hallway, this one empty of any guards. He led me to a pair of double doors, swinging them open to reveal a massive library.
The unfamiliar scent of what could only be paper and leather wafted through the entryway. Tall shelves lined with colored books filled every wall from the floor to the tall ceiling, the only break an oversized window on the far side of the room. Dominating the centerof the space was a long, dark wooden table. Nerves fluttered in my belly at the sight of North, Harthon, and a woman I didn’t recognize seated around it. No one sat at the head. I imagined that seat was normally reserved for Harthon, but he sat beside the woman.
She was beautiful. Rich, brown hair sat in perfect ringlets to a chest that made my own feel inadequate. Her face was all strong cheekbones and plump lips, and her eyes were as green as Callen’s. An emerald tunic with gold embroidering complemented her dark brown skin, and she sat with an easy confidence that I didn’t think I had.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you coming in?” North’s snide remark snapped me into action.
“North, is the harsh welcome really necessary?” Callen chided.
I felt the blush in my cheeks, hating its presence as I wandered toward the table, all too aware of North’s dull gray eyes scanning me with searing judgment.
“Don’t answer that question,” Harthon said, saving me from whatever acid was about to pour from the bearded man’s mouth. His regal attire from yesterday was replaced by brown fighting leathers like those on Callen, though a black tunic underneath covered his arms. He gestured to the woman. “Etarla, you haven’t met Ana, my minister. She’s in charge when I’m not here.”
So this was the Ana he’d greeted so warmly when we’d first arrived in the Citadel. Seeing her now, it would make sense if they were lovers.
Her face transformed from beautiful to stunning when she smiled, the gesture friendly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Etarla.”
It was polite to return to the formality, but it wasn’t really a pleasure to meet her. It wasn’t a pleasure to be here at all. So I gave her a stiff nod.
“You said there’s proof to show me?” I said, turning to Harthon.After a restless night of sleep, I was only half-convinced of what he told me yesterday. The part about themagviserecting the Domus and finding me in the woods was believable enough, but that bit about me knowing the tunnel system that led into Centralis? Absolutely not. Themagvismay have changed the appearance of my eyes, but no matter how many times I searched through my thoughts for an image or indication of these tunnels, I found nothing.
Ana chuckled, the sound throaty. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
“Only when she stands at doorways and stares for hours,” North snarked.
“What crawled up your ass today, Northen?” Ana asked, utterly fearless.
North was a nickname, then. Based on the snarl curling his lips, he much preferred it to his full name.
“The same thing as every other day,” Callen said with a sigh, guiding me to the head of the table. He pulled out the cushioned seat, and I cautiously sat.
“That’s what happens when I’m constantly bombarded with your ugly faces,” North muttered.
Callen slapped a palm to his heart. “You wound me so deeply.”
“Don’t worry. He was referring to Hart, not you,” Ana chimed.
My eyes landed on the mentioned man. He leaned back against his chair, one arm slung over the wooden backrest, watching the exchange with boredom on his face as if this bickering was a regular occurrence.
“When I said ‘your faces,’ I was referring toallof them.”
“Have you seen your own? Let me fetch you a mirror,” Callen taunted, resting his forearms on the high chairback beside Ana.
“Domus knows you have hundreds.”
“As I should.”
“Now look who’s wasting time,” Harthon cut in, eyingthe three of them. He didn’t crack a smile, but his relaxed features and light eyes were telling.
North glared at Callen, who shrugged.
“Etarla asked for proof. Let’s show it to her.” Harthon nodded to Ana, who slid a small wooden box down the table.
