Izabel leans close. “I thought I’d give him a try—I mean,lookat those shoulders! But wow. Rocks for brains. How did he end up in Strategos? He belongs in Phylax with the other pretty bricks.”
“I think you’re selling him short. Your eyes reallyarelike gemstones,” I tease.
She rolls them so far back in her head, I’m sure she catches a glimpse of her brain. “Shutup,” she groans with a smile as she follows me across the anteroom. “What did you want to?—”
Izabel cuts off when we stop in front of my new door, her dark eyebrows shooting toward her hairline as I turn the handle.
“Meryn, these rooms are private,” she hisses, glancing over her shoulder.
“I know,” I tell her, pushing open the door and leading her into the room. “This one is now private tome.”
Before I can explain, a low whistle rings out from behind us. I turn to see Tomison leaning in the doorway.
His gaze darts around my quarters appreciatively. “Damn, Meryn. This is?—”
I snatch his wrist and yank him inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Everywhere Tomison goes, he draws attention, and I don’t needmorepeople ogling my new room and starting to hate me for it.
I can’t hide this forever, but I’d rather control how the news gets out rather than let Tomison’s inexplicable popularity spread it for me.
Then again, that popularity might work for me somehow. Tomison steps deeper into the space. He pauses next to the luxurious chair by the foot of my new bed and runs his fingers over the velvet. His red hair burns even in the dim light of the single oil lamp on the bedside table.
“How did you score this setup?” he asks. “I thought only instructors got private rooms.”
Izabel scoffs. I’m not sure why. I think it’s just a knee-jerk reaction of hers that triggers whenever she hears Tomison speak. I can sense her eyes drilling holes in him from clear across the room, though Tomison seems oblivious.
I take a deep breath and attempt to explain that “safety concerns” after the attack have elevated me and that Egith did not give me a choice about taking the room. I’m stuck here, whether or not I want to be.
Story of my life, apparently.
Izabel frowns at me thoughtfully at the conclusion of my explanation. “This is what you wanted to chat about?”
“Yes.” I gesture to the room. “Obviously.”
Tomison snorts and looks at Izabel, but she’s deep in thought. She pinches her chin and presses her lips together. Then she says, “Who could have ordered this? I wonder if you caught the king’s eye at Presentation. I mean, we all know he’s creepy, but…”
She and Tomison exchange a look, and I’m sure they’re thinking about how the king likes to pick a companion from the Rawbonds. I’ve heard rumors that he’s had his eye on a Phylax Rawbond named Audelie, but maybe he’s still searching for his target.
My skin crawls. The merethoughtof the king’s too-blue eyes moving over me like that, lingering in all the places I’d die to protect… I’m legitimately sick for a moment and lean back against the door for support.
Actually, his son is more likely to be responsible. It’s the most obvious conclusion, but I keep Killian’s name out of my mouth. I’m not ready to open that wound; especially not when I’m already in such a fragile position with the other Rawbonds.
Can’t imagine it would help things if I told everyone I’ve been fucking the crown prince for a year.
“How do I keep this room assignment from making everything worse for me?” I say instead, hoping that these two might be able to give me some reasonable advice.
My gaze darts between them. Izabel looks sympathetic. Tomison looks amused. He shrugs at me.Shrugs. “You don’t.”
“I don’t,” I repeat, a little annoyed.
“Own it!” he says with a stupidly charming grin. “You can clearly handle yourself. Don’t tuck your tail.” He claps his hands together. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are some lovely Daemos ladies awaiting my charming presence.”
Izabel scowls as he leaves. There’s too much venom there. I raise a brow. “Why do your gemstones look so murderous?” I ask.
She clears her throat and mutters, “When he breathes, it annoys me.”
I really don’t think he’s all that bad, though. He gave me an honest answer, didn’t he? Not a useful one, but he tried. “How do I get out of this, Izabel?”
She sighs. “I’d rather gouge my eyes out than admit Tomison is right about anything. So I won’t.But.”
