Lucien sighs. “All right, what did you want me for?”
Kazia opens his mouth and realizes he doesn’t know. He has neither orders to give nor strategy to discuss. His only motive for calling Lucien tonight was that he wants to see him.
For really important security reasons. Not because Kazia enjoys Lucien’s company.
Fuck. Maybe he just wanted Lucien to know that he’s hurting. Lucien calls him strong, but around Lucien, Kazia feels weaker than ever. “Nothing. I changed my mind. Go back to your room.”
Lucien leans against the door frame. “No.”
Kazia bristles. “Excuse me?”
“No,” Lucien repeats. “If we’re working together, we need to be partners. I’m not your subject, and I’m not your prisoner. You can’t summon and dismiss me like that anymore.”
Kazia flinches. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I get it.” Lucien doesn’t sound mad. Just thoughtful. No fire simmering beneath his skin. “You don’t trust me. There’s no reason you should. But I’d like to show you something. Come out into the parlor.”
Kazia follows, confused by his own compliance as much as Lucien’s request. He wants Lucien to leave and stay at the same time. And there’s something about Lucien’s voice that makes him nervous.
Lucien stands in the center of the room and unbuckles his collar.
Kazia’s heart thuds.
The collar is useless when Lucien has the key. A strange blend of terror and relief courses through Kazia’s veins regardless.
“I want you to put this on,” Lucien says.
“What the fuck?” Kazia takes an instinctive step back. “You’re insane.”
“If you want my cooperation, I need you to trust me.” Lucien flips the collar around his finger. The metal pieces clang together. “Wear this for five minutes while I hold the key.”
Kazia hesitates, his nerves like stinging nettles. He shouldn’t consider this. He should call Salarin now to shove Lucien back into his cell. He shouldn’t be asking, “Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because I’m asking you to,” Lucien says simply.
By the solemn look on his face, Lucien knows what he’s asking. He’s a mage, what Kazia has always feared, and he wants Kazia to surrender complete control.
No more and no less than a return of the power Kazia wielded over him. Payback for scrubbing floors and folding misshapen pillowcases and kissing Kazia’s boot in front of the entire Draskoran court.
Kazia would want the same in Lucien’s shoes. That might be the strangest part—the disappointment. Kazia had thought Lucien was better than him. “What will you do if I refuse?”
“You would find out if you refused.” Lucien tilts his head. “But you aren’t going to refuse, are you?”
He isn’t. They both know that. Kazia needs Lucien’s help. More than that, hewantsLucien’s help.
“You can’t make me do anything weird,” Kazia says.
“I won’t.” Lucien’s voice softens. “I know you were careful with me.”
“Fuck you. I was not.” Kazia turns around, facing the low burning fire.
Lucien’s presence behind him is warmer than the flames. “I’m going to move your hair,” he says, as if in warning, but no warning could prepare Kazia for the tickling heat at the back of his neck.
In another world, another life, where Kazia was a different, unbroken person, this would be nice.
Until Lucien loops the collar around his throat.
The smooth metal is still warm from Lucien’s skin. It’s too large on Kazia, and feels far heavier than it is. Kazia’s nerves race so quickly it seems an age before Lucien clicks the buckle closed. The sound is so loud that Kazia flinches.
