“Yes.”
“Amerei…” Her hands fell from the cloak. “It’s more than just a crime. It’sdangerous. An open door—”
“Swings both ways,” Amerei finished softly. “I know.”
“Good.”
Jasmine stepped back, drawing the comb through Amerei’s hair.
“You’ll be fine,” she said. “So long as you don’t let that man’s face make you foolish.”
Evander huffed from the doorway. “His face?”
“Oh, come off it,” Jasmine snapped, tugging through a knot. “The Draekenra line breeds problems. Tall ones. Symmetrical ones. Cheekbones sharp enough to split kindling. A mouth like sin you promise not to repeat.”
“I don’t see it,” Evander rasped.
“You don’t have to. You’re not the target,” Jasmine said, eyes flicking to Amerei.
Their glances met in the mirror. Amerei turned her head toward the parlor.
“Out, Evander.”
“My duty—”
“Is to keep the door.”
Her gaze did not waver.
“Out.”
He bristled, then bowed
“I’ll be right there.”
The door clicked shut.
Silence folded close.
Jasmine’s comb paused mid-stroke.
“Well?”
Amerei’s mouth curved.
“I want to rattle the prince.”
Jasmine’s brow arched.
“Definerattle.”
Amerei rose, sliding open the lacquered wardrobe. Silk sighed.
“If he means to play court, I’ll play better.”
She nodded toward the chest.
“Fetch my ring—and the cloak I wore riding in.”
