His amused expression slips. It flickers back almost immediately, but it’s more embittered than before. “If you think your stunt at Eteria changes anything, prepare to be disappointed.”
“I’m well versed in disappointment. I’ve been pretending to be friends withyoufor weeks,” I say. “Why are you here?”
“The second trial is meant to be a surprise. Since meeting you, I decided I’ve had enough surprises for a lifetime.”
I recall the way he effortlessly commanded the crowd at Mozeri Temple. He was lying through his teeth, but he had the entire audience eating from his hand. “Surprised you didn’t just charm the committee into telling you everything.”
He smiles, slow and sharp, and pairs it with a few steps in my direction. “You think I’m charming, Remira?”
I roll my eyes, hoping it draws his attention from the way I retreat a few steps. “I think many people find you charming. Just as I think many people are fools.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
I scoff. “Of course not. I can see right through you.”
“Is that so?” Kaidren quirks a brow. “Tell me, what am I thinking, right now?” He drags his lingering gaze over my body, as a slow, appreciative smirk slinks across his face. The intensity of his perusal reminds me of how he used to look at me, back when we were playing a very different kind of game.
Then, I faked smiles and pretended to be flattered.Now, I glare openly and hurl insults.Now,I wear my disdain for him proudly on my sleeve. Why, then, does his heated stare feel more real in this moment than it did before?
A shiver works down my spine. I fold my arms to disguise the involuntary response to his eyes on me. “Using shallow flirtation to try and get your way again? I thought you were finished with that game.”
“I’ve only just started to play.”
His brown eyes appear brighter in this dim lighting. I have to look away. My gaze drops to the floor, to the hole over the conference room. “You never answered me. Did the committee tell you anything about what to expect in the second trial?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Why would I tell you? Unless . . .” His expression brightens. “Are you proposing a trade? I answer a question of yours, you answer one of mine?”
We’re broaching on dangerous territory. I’m about to tell him just where he can shove his “trade” when I hear the softened thuds of approaching footsteps from down the hall.
I go rigid. Kaidren frowns. “Are you ignoring—”
I rush forward to shut him up, shoving my sleeve over his mouth and muffling his words.
His brow knits in anger. I press a finger to my lips, willing him with my racing heart and frantic expression to keep quiet.
He stops fighting me, and his eyes widen—now that he’s shut up, he hears the footsteps as well.
We stand in tense silence as the steps get closer and closer. They stop just outside the door.
My chest is tight, as though bound with rope. Terror crawls over my skin and into my rapidly beating heart as I peer around the room. The dust trails leading under the bed make it too obvious a hiding place.
The door rattles. It’s locked, which buys us precious seconds.
The sleeves of Kaidren’s sweater are rolled up, revealing his forearms. Too much exposed skin to risk grabbing them. Instead, I snatch the front of his sweater, bunching the wool over his chest.
The lock clicks—whoever is here has a key.
Without a word, I shove Kaidren back, toward the wardrobe. One hand nudges open the door, the other forces him as far inside as possible.
I tuck myself in after him, drawing the door closed behind us as softly as I can.
Kaidren’s back is pressed to the rear of the wardrobe. My body is crammed against his.
The bedroom door creaks open.
I stop breathing.
Our chests are shoved together, hearts pounding one sharp, frenzied pace.
