The man with his hand uncomfortably close to my waist steps back, and I crouch to retrieve both weapons, sliding them into place.
A guard inside the courtyard cranks the lever.
The gate lifts, the barricading men step aside, and I move through the short tunnel, holding Kolden’s eye contact until I’m standing right before him.
He frowns. “Your lips are blue. And you’re pale.”
“I’m fine.”
The muscle in his jaw bounces.
“Apologies,” he says, and I nod.
He drops to a kneel and pretends to pat down both legs—all hidden by the fall of my cape. Surprise blossoms inside my chest as he rises and continues the ruse to my waist and hips, a stern look on his face.
The faintest smile touches my lips.
“All clear,” he bellows over my shoulder, and I lift a brow.
He spins, steps close, then matches me stride for stride. We spill into the courtyard lit by bowls of blazing oil, our footsteps a harrowing echo. “I’d hoped you would evade the hunting party,” he rumbles low, setting his hand between my shoulder blades to guide me toward the grand entryway on the right.
Frowning, I look sidelong at my former guard. His gaze is cast ahead, the muscle in his jaw popped and prominent. “Sick of seeing me around, are you?”
“Quite the opposite, I’m afraid.”
I whip my stare to the twin doors as footmen haul them wide.
Play it safe.
I’m ushered through the central lobby where several servants are using long poles to light the sconces, then up the sweeping staircase and down the hall that leads to my quarters. I pause, ease the bag off my shoulder, and tuck it into a large, golden urn balanced atop a thin table pushed against the wall.
“What are you doing?” Kolden hisses, scanning our surroundings.
I fit the lid back into place, knowingexactlyhow this impending conversation will go if Cainon discovers I have Rhordyn’s shirt tucked in a bag I stole from his room.
“Playing it safe,” I mutter, urging us forward. I’d stuff the sword in there too if the guards hadn’t already seen it.
We enter the small lobby that leads to my room, coming to stop before the door opposite my suite; one I’ve never passed through. Kolden knocks three times, and a doorman answers, keeping his head bowed as I enter a vast space adorned with velvet chaises and plush rugs. Kolden follows me through, and I stop, turning. “Thank you. That will be all.”
His eyes harden, hands flexing into fists at his sides. Gaze spearing behind me, he steps close. “Be careful,” he grinds into my ear before he ushers the doorman out, closing me in the room.
Alone.
Relief filters into my lungs.
I don’t want Kolden to see this exchange. For him to watch me crumble myself down into a shape that fits Cainon’s perfect perception of who he believes I should be.
I make for the only other exit—a set of double doors on the far wall. Pulling them open, I step into a room that boasts big, square windows that look out across the bridge.
A lapis lazuli dining table dominates the space, capped with a glazed hog nesting on a bed of braised tomatoes, boiled eggs, and potatoes stung with the scent of lemon. The table is set with enough food and seats for eight people, though only one is occupied.
Cainon sits at the head like a bronze statue, one leg draped across the arm of his seat while he sips from a golden goblet, scorching me with his heated gaze. His face is sun-brushed, hair tied back in a loose knot, his deep blue shirt rolled to the elbows, the Bahari sigil pinned to his chest.
He looks at Rhordyn’s sword before our stares collide like boulders hurled together, splintering those domes—the sound cracking through me like a thunderous warning.
“Good morning, petal. I’ve missed you,” he says, the corner of his mouth kicking up, like a cat that got the cream. “I was so pleased to see my guards escorting you over the bridge, especially after the way our last conversation ended. I’ve been worried about you. I know those truths were hard to swallow.”
Play it safe.
