I watch her for longer than I should.
She doesn’t notice my approach immediately. Lost in thought, her amber gaze distant, her hands clasped in her lap with a stillness that suggests meditation or prayer. The copper highlights in her hair catch the sunlight, glowing faintly against the dark waves.
She’s beautiful.
The thought surfaces without permission. I shove it down immediately, burying it beneath layers of ice and control.
Her head turns as I step into the garden. Those amber eyes find mine, and something shifts in her expression—wariness, yes, but also something else. Recognition. Understanding.
“I assume the council reached a decision.” Her voice is steadier than it was last night. Stronger. She’s recovering faster than she should be.
“You stay.” I stop several feet from her bench, maintaining distance. “Under Brotherhood protection. In exchange for your cooperation against the Shadow Clan.”
“And the conditions?”
“You don’t leave my sight without permission. You don’t practice magic without supervision. You don’t access sensitive areas without an escort.” I let each word land individually, watching for her reaction. “You’re a guest here. But you’re also a risk. Until we determine otherwise, you’ll be treated as both.”
I expect argument. Offense. The wounded pride of a princess being told she’s essentially a prisoner.
Instead, she nods.
“That’s fair.”
The easy acceptance catches me off guard. “You’re not going to fight me on this?”
“Would it change anything?” She meets my stare without flinching, and I’m struck again by the directness of her gaze. No guile. No calculation. Just clear amber holding steady against cold gold. “I came here asking for help. I’m in no position to negotiate terms. If these are the conditions for your protection, I accept them.”
“Just like that.”
“My pride can wait.” Something flickers in her expression—grief, maybe. Or exhaustion. “My kingdom is gone. My family is dead. The sister who should have been my ally is hunting me to steal my blood. I have nothing left except the power to stop her, and I can’t do that alone.” She pauses. “So yes. Just like that. Whatever it takes.”
I should be satisfied with her compliance. Should see it as evidence that my suspicions are unfounded, that she genuinely needs our help.
Instead, it makes me uneasy.
Because Morrigan was compliant too. Charming and agreeable and so very helpful—right up until she led my sister to slaughter.
“The council also decided that I’ll be responsible for your protection.” The words come out flat, clinical. “I’ll be your primary point of contact. Any concerns, any issues, any requests—they go through me.”
Something flickers in her gaze. Surprise, maybe.
“They assigned me to you specifically.” Not a question.
“Yes.”
“Because you hate me.”
The bluntness startles a response from me before I can control it. “Because I won’t be swayed by sentiment.”
“Same thing.” She rises from the bench, and I notice she’s taller than I remembered. Nearly my height. “You think I’m a trap. A weapon Morrigan sent to infiltrate your defenses from within. Assigning me to you ensures that I’m watched by someone who won’t let their guard down.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No.” She takes a step toward me, and I hold my ground despite the instinct to retreat. “It’s intelligent. Strategic. Exactly what I’d expect from the Brotherhood’s master tactician.” Her head tilts slightly. “I’m told you’re the best there is. That you see threats before they materialize, predict enemy movements before they happen. That your mind works in patterns and possibilities that most people can’t even imagine.”
“Flattery won’t help your position.”
“It’s not flattery. It’s observation.” Another step. Close enough now that I can see the darker flecks in her amber eyes,the faint shadows beneath them that speak to sleepless nights. “You caught me when I fell. Carried me to the infirmary yourself. Stayed with me while I slept to make sure I didn’t burn the place down.” Her voice softens. “If you truly believed I was a trap, you would have let me die at the gate.”
