“I’m so worried about Xenia,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s been over a week, Tristan. What if she’s suffering?”
“Listen to me,” he gripped her chin, “Maksym is as good as dead now that he’s in Eamon’s crosshairs. And as soon as Arran’s forces close in, Xenia will be safe.”
Cassandra blew out a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“Trust me. I’ve experienced first-hand the aftermath of Eamon’s ruthlessness. And I wouldn’t dare cross him. Especially now that you—” He glanced towards the ceiling and bit his lower lip. “It’s in our best interest to do what he’s asked.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, leaning back against the bureau.
“Why bother coming to the colonies now, two years after his coronation? I don’t buy that he’s justvisiting his subjects. He’s up to something.”
“Did you hear about his decree? That he’s made weekly memory extractions mandatory?”
Tristan winced. “I had heard, yes.”
“Why do you think he did it?”
“I’m not certain. But it can be nothing good. We need to stay on his good side. Figure out what he’s truly after before too many innocent people suffer from his schemes.”
He cupped her chin again and she almost sighed at the feel of his warm, rough hand on her skin, the stroke of his finger along her jaw, the sight of all that tanned, naked flesh mere inches from her fingertips.
“We’re going to be playing a very dangerous game with a very dangerous person,” he whispered. “One who has resented me for centuries.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m older than Eamon,” Tristan whispered and Cassandra’s stomach plummeted. “Iwas the heir to the Empire before I was exiled.” She didn’t know if she was shuddering at his words or his touch, trying to ignore her rising anxiety that she was standing half-dressed in a cramped room with the once future Emperor of Ethyrios. “But I would succumb to True Death before I let anything happen to you, Cassandra.”
Exactly what she was afraid of.
“Turn around,” he said. “Let me help you with that knot.”
She blew out a shaky breath and handed him her hairbrush. She swiveled to face the mirror, the heat of his body a sinful temptation at her back. He gathered her heavy fall of hair and isolated the strand with the knot, then held it taut in the middle as he raked the brush over the tangled mess.
The same method Xenia—a master at untangling both physical and emotional knots—used to use. Another tear spilled down her cheek.
Tristan turned her to kiss it away. “I’m worried, too.”
“You hide it well,” she snapped. He didn’t flinch, seeming to understand her anger wasn’t for him.
“Falling apart won’t help anyone. Keep the faith, tiny human.”
She chuckled, wet and rattling; he sounded like Borea.
He pulled her closer, draping her wrists around his neck as he leaned down to murmur in her ear. “I can help you forget about everything for a while,ex-playmate.”
Amatu spare her, she wanted him to.
But since she’d left the order, her life had been so unmoored. Was it wise to add her heart to the mix?
She vented an exasperated sigh. “The past week has been…complicated. Our whole situation is complicated. Won’t this just make it even more confusing?”
“I’m not confused at all about how much I want you.” Tristan wrapped his arms around her tighter, as if trying to fuse their bodies together.
“You say that now,” she said, trying to ignore how good, how right it felt to be held by him. “What if you change your mind once you have me?”
“Only one way to find out.” Tristan trailed gentle kisses across her freckled cheeks and nose. “Let me have you,” he whispered, shuddering with need.
The evidence of his desire nudged against her stomach, sharpening her ache.
