“He’s her cousin,” Ryker muttered at the ceiling again, before his gaze enveloped me again. “Later.”
“Later,” I said, heart already fluttering.
We kept looking at each other as he closed his door slowly, as reticent as I felt to part. When he finally shut it, I shuddered a breath. Dax didn’t know it, but he’d offered me the perfect excuse to gather myself before I faced Ryker once more.
“He’s so tiresome,” Dax said and quickly turned to me in his seat. “Please tell me all those lovesick stares between you two are just an act and you don’t actuallylikehim.”
I pursed my lips at him. “Yes, because I’m so well known for lies and fakery.”
“That’s disappointing.” Dax rolled his eyes and focused back on the parchments, taking out a quill from the leather satchel hanging off his side.
I furrowed my brows.
I figured his hectic energy had been all part of the act to throw Ryker off his dangerous scent. But Dax kept shuffling, fidgeting, and bouncing his leg like he wanted to permanently injure his knee.
“What’s with you?” I asked.
Without taking his eyes off the table, he took out a small glass vial from his satchel, the viscous liquid inside catching the light.
Truth serum.
Uncle Maksim had warned us it would try to yank the words off our tongues, so we had to channel that energy in other ways, until it left our system. I remembered–though I’d wished I didn’t–how I’d run away from him during one of our training sessions so he wouldn’t learn about my fear of spiders.
The Huntress couldn’t be scared of a creature she could squash, I knew that even then.
I’d mastered a lot of the skills he’d taught, but never this.
Dax had been his best student, however. He must have been bottling up more information than I realized.
“You really did read all the ledgers in the vaults,” I said.
“I always come prepared.” He stopped his twitching long enough to throw a grin my way. “Now get ready. While I’m sure your Commander loves it, I don’t want you accidentally flashing me in that robe.”
“You’re obnoxious when you’re diligent,” I grumbled and marched toward my washroom.
“Learned it from the best,” Dax sing-songed.
“Dax?” I said.
“Yes?”
I smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
He sighed, even as laughter danced in his eyes. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d almost died last night. “Remember that when I’m being particularly annoying.”
I’d take all the irritation in the world to have him safe and grinning.
Just as I was about to close the door, his voice followed me. “Did you get my gift last night?”
My chest instantly tightened, staggering my breaths.
Yes, I had–and it had ruined whatever hope I still had of reclaiming my throne.
But I couldn’t say that out loud.
Not yet.
So, like a coward, I closed the door and pretended I hadn’t heard. If only it would have been as easy to close the door on my devastating shame.
