A few more stand by the front door. Plotting an escape? Or waiting for someone to return.
At first glance they look like they’re enjoying themselves, but the laughter sounds forced, and the smiles are too bright for the way their gazes scan the room looking for something.
Looking for Lyra.
I sense her before I see her.
She walks back into the lobby with one of the men, a tall, gawky-looking redhead. Her arm is tucked in his, and the way he’s looking down at her—
He’s looking at her like I want to look at her. Like she’s the most important thing in the room.
In the whole place.
The white jumpsuit is shot through with silver thread so it looks like it’s glowing in the lights. It’s tied around her neck, doingthingsto her cleavage that I’ve never considered before.
I’ve considered her cleavage, and the rest of her body before, but I always told myself I wasn’t allowed to think of her like that.
Lyra’s hair floats past her shoulders in a cloud of reddish-blonde waves, smiling like she’s exactly where she wants to be. And the way she looks up at the guy beside her…
I’m done denying. It hurts.
I want Lyra to look atmelike that. Just once, so I can see what it’s like to be her whole focus. Lyra has smiled at me countless times, looked at me with dancing eyes, laughter curving those lips into a wide grin, but those times were never just about me. There was always someone with us, someone watching, taking pictures. Judging.
For once, I’d like to be just with Lyra Erickson. Not Princess Lyra of Laandia.
Someone hands her a fresh drink and she smiles atthemtoo. Why did I bother coming to check on her? She’s having the best time, not even giving a second thought that I’m not there.
I wonder if she thinks of me at all.
And then she sees me.
All it takes is her throwing back her head mid-laugh and glancing over at the doorway where I’m standing. I never realized that I’ve inched around, obvious to anyone who looked over.
I pull back around the corner with a muffled curse, wondering if I should try and get back to the room, or wait until Lyra disappears with another man for some one-on-one time.
I don’t have time to do anything because suddenly Lyra is standing in front of me.
The drink is gone and her arms are folded across her chest. If I was in a courtroom, I’d say she was a hostile witness.
“Did you need something?” she demands in an icy voice. The white material of her jumpsuit folds and flutters, and it’s all I can do to keep my focus up on her face.
She’s wearing the red lipstick that brings all attention to her lips.
I’m allowed to think about her lips now.
“Just looking around,” I manage. “I took a wrong turn.”
“Nope. You were born with a compass in your hand, plus I’m pretty sure Odin showed you the plans for this place, so you know exactly where you’re going.”
“I don’t remember that—”
“Plus you’ve been standing here since I got back with Rand.” She cocks her head. “You’re not the only spymaster in Laandia, Spencer. The only thing I haven’t been able to figure out is the real reason you’re here.”
I’ve never been so glad that my teenage growth spurt gave me enough height to still have a few inches over the tall and slender Lyra, even in her heels.
Taking a quick glance down, I notice the tips of her gold strappy sandals under the hem of the pants. Her toenails are painted a periwinkle blue.
“I told you,” I begin, dragging my gaze back. Lyra claps her fingers in front of my face and I step back in reflex.
