It took me hours to convince myself to even come in the first place, and now I’m late. This is so far out of my comfort, and I fear making a spectacle of myself in front of so many. The last thing I want is for anyone to see me all dressed up and dainty and view me as weak.
“All I’m sayin’ is one quick arrow from my bow to the heart. It would be over in an instant.”
The whispered, raspy growl stops me in my tracks.
“Shhh! I’ve already told you we won’t be discussing this above ground. You can either shut up and fall in line or face the consequences,” another husky voice replies, and it’s clear the sound is coming from the dark alcove a few steps in front of me.
There isn’t another way into the banquet hall, and I either have to pass this alcove or turn around and go home, which doesn’t sound like the worst option.
But Phillipa will kill me if I don’t show up tonight, especially after all the work she put in to have me looking halfway decent.
I tiptoe closer, hoping the sound of my feet on the stone doesn’t give me away, and careful not to allow my shadow to reach the alcove.
My back is flush against the cool stone of the wall, and I’m grateful that it seems to at least slow down the fountain of sweat that is my body.
“But it’s time that bitch pays! Isn’t that the point of the rebellion? To get her off the throne.”
“I said enough!” There’s a thud and a whooshing sound that has me believing someone has just been punched squarely in the gut. “She is not yours to worry about. We will move whenIsay.”
Red-hot anger, and a twinge of fear, roll in one long wave from my head down. These voices belong to rebels. And if I know one thing for certain, it’s that when they catch me eavesdropping, they will kill me.
My heart starts to thud so hard I can feel it in my gut.
I might be totally insane, but it sounds like the Rhiza are planning to kill the queen. There aren’t many things that could keep me from protecting Queen Daphne, and I might be scared of the rebels, but I refuse to let them kill my queen. Over my dead body.
Still frozen in place, I contemplate my options.
The only true choice is to pass by as if I’ve heard nothing. Which means I will have to save putting my shoes back on for when I reach the door.
“Until then, I suggest you enjoy the tournament.” The angry second voice sounds as if it’s growing closer. There is no time, and I’m going to die.
I drop my shoes on the ground and bend down to fasten them, holding my breath and battling over if I should look up at them when they pass by or not.
I risk a glance over my shoulder, flipping my hair out of my face to make it more convincing.
Golden amber eyes attached to a brooding, but handsome, male find mine, and I give a small smile that I’m certain comes off as more of a grimace. Those eyes. I’ve definitely seen those liquid gold eyes before. Two additional large shadows move behind him.
“Good evening.” His velvet voice entrances me.
I smile and tuck my hair behind my ears. “Hello. Please excuse me, this blasted shoe strap is being fussy. Can’t seem to keep it snug.”
He bends down just as the other two men step into the light. “May I?” he asks, and I don’t see how I can refuse him.
I shake my way up to stand and step one foot out from under my dress in his direction.
When the back of his hand brushes my skin, I want to hurl from the contact. Anticipation creeps down my spine, and my hands get hot. I ache to reach out for the stone wall to cool them.
His fingers rest on the back of my ankle, holding me in place. He’s not gripping too tight, but he does focus his attention to my shoe strap, fitting it snugly to my foot. Then he lets go, and the loss of stability almost sends me toppling into the wall.
I catch myself with one arm and stare down at him.
He holds a hand out, gesturing for me to give him my other foot, and I do. I can hear nothing except the drumming of my heartbeat. This is it.
He’s going to signal to one of his friends, knock me to the ground, and end my life right here.
But he doesn’t. He secures my shoe, this time setting my foot down gently and offering me his hand as he stands.
“Can’t have you losing a shoe or breaking an ankle,” he whispers and steps to the side. He’s just going to let me leave.
