Footsteps plod into the room.
I’m holding my breath so intensely, I’m lightheaded, praying to any star in the sky the intruder leaves. Steps shuffle around the room. It’s likely less than a minute, but it feels like hours drag before the steps fade and finally leave. The bedroom door clicks shut.
Still, Kaidren and I don’t move. We don’t speak. We don’t even breathe.
I count silently to ten.
“I believe,” Kaidren’s low murmur caresses the shell of my ear when my mental count reaches eight, “we were in the middle of negotiating.”
My chest is still constricted, and I’m battling waves of residual fear. I shove all that aside to level him with a glare. “Only in your dreams.”
There’s hardly any space to move, so I blindly thrust a hand behind me to open the wardrobe door.
Kaidren’s arm bands my waist, stopping me.
I curl my hands between us, where they’re not at risk of touching his skin.
He has one arm around me, hand flattened against my back. His eyes are steeped in determination and something softer. Something unexpected and undefinable. “I never said I’m sorry. I should have.”
Of all the things I thought he’d say, this was dead last. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry. For assuming you were the help. For underestimating you.” His unwavering gaze is pensive as it bores into mine. “I don’t know how I ever looked into those eyes and thought you were helpless.”
My breath catches. There’s a quiet vulnerability to his words that tugs at my heartstrings.
This is a game. He’s playing you.
The reminder is a much-needed splash of cold water to the face. I push against him again. “They’re gone. We can get out of here.”
“Come on.” His hand at my lower back brings me flush against him. “Let’s make a trade. I’ll tell you anything you like—all you have to do is answer something for me.”
My mind staggers under the weight of a thousand questions. Did he murder his father? Why does he want to be Praeceptor? Is he the imposter Shadow Queen?
I can’t ask any of this, but he’s trapped me in this wardrobe and is far, far too close. I swallow. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about Eteria.” His voice is silky smooth. “I’ve been going over it in my mind and I can’t figure out how you pulled it off.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you.” I lick my lips nervously and meet his eyes. There’s a hunger in them. He’s desperate to understand how I bested him. I can see it. How the questions have been gnawing at him, torturing him.
I open my mouth to answer. His breath catches, his grip loosens—and I shove out of the wardrobe while he’s distracted.
I stumble back quickly, putting distance between us.
Kaidren and I stand on opposite ends—me alongside the bed, him near the open wardrobe—eyeing each other warily, as if we’re feral silverwolves, pawing at the ground, preparing to pounce.
I force myself to smirk as if he doesn’t terrify me. “Eteria? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I move to crouch near the hole in the floor, but Kaidren snatches my arm.
“What are you doing?” I scowl. “We’re going to miss the meeting.”
“Then I guess we miss it. Tell me about Eteria or I’ll scream. Loud enough someone will come running. Whoever shows up, I’ll tell them how I caught you here, spying on the Tournament committee.”
My pulse jumps with his threat, but I keep my voice steady. “I’ll deny it. Everyone knows you’re a liar.”
“Maybe. But you’d still have to explain what you’re doing here.”
“As would you.”
