That wasn’t why I kept staring at him, though. It was his lack of fear that kept me looking, noticing. His gaze held none of the usual fear that other men typically felt when looking at me. He wasn’t cowering away or diverting his gaze. No, this man's eyes were swirling with curiosity. Lust.
He was foolish to stare so brazenly, especially while kneeling before the queen and king, the only ones who should have held his attention.
I’ll admit that recklessness alone further piqued my interest.
He continued to stare, the metallic depths swirling with unspoken promises.
I couldn’t help but let a small smile show.
We were in the ballroom–Morgana’s throne room, she preferred to call it.
The villagers were quietly packed into the room, a stark difference from moments ago when they had been cheering on the now deceased duke, who was still bleeding out on the marble floor.
Everything was always a spectacle with Morgana. She liked drama and violence. The bloodier the better. Atticus could have killed the male instantly, but he must have known this about her and had dragged out the fight longer than necessary.
A cough rang out, and Atticus snapped his attention forward. Morgana was now standing, and Atticus bowed his head further as she approached.
“Stand.”
Atticus did so, and I felt a brush at my shoulder.
Lana side-eyed me, concern etched between her brows.
“What was that about?” she whispered, twisting her hand and casting a silence barrier so that our voices wouldn’t be heard.
“I don’t know,” I said, my smile growing. “But I definitely plan to find out.”
“You shouldn’t,” she snapped but kept her attention forward toward the ceremony taking place. “He has a nasty reputation when it comes to women, to anyone for that matter.”
“Is thatconcern, sister?” I said, raising a brow at her but giving her a bland look. I knew Lana stopped caring about me long ago.
“I'm just saying, be careful.”
Wait…was she actually concerned?
“It is you who should be careful. We don’t want mother dearest to see your humanity showing. It would earn you a few fresh scars.”
Lana growled almost imperceptibly, and I chuckled, feeling only slightly bad about what I said. “I just want to have some fun. It's not like anyone else is trying to jump into my bed. At least he doesn’t look like he will cower in fear afterward.”
“You can't trust him.”
“I don’t have to trust him to sleep with him. It's not like I'm going to fall for the guy. Anyway, Morgana won't let anything happen to her precious pet… I'm the chosen one, remember?” Isaid, lifting a sarcastic brow in her direction. I was trying to joke with her, but Lana stiffened at my words, her features hardening.
“Whatever. Do what you want. Just don't come crying to me when it blows up in your face.”
She lifted her spell with her words, and I had to bite my tongue on the retort that threatened to roll from my lips. I swallowed the insult and fixed my attention back on the ceremony.
Lana hated that her own mother preferred me over her. I saw the bitterness, the jealousy in her eyes at being overlooked again and again. But what did she expect me to do about it? At least she could make her own choices, decisions, and know without a doubt they were hers.
But this man could be my choice.
Morgana didn’t care who I took to my bed. She only cared that I did her bidding, and I might be stupid for feeling it, but it gave me the smallest hope that I might be able to have something for myself.
And I needed to know I still could.
*
The bare stone walls of the hallway irked me as I made my way to the parlor room. Morgana could at least get a few more tapestries to hang in the hallways. She could certainly afford it. Turning a corner, I nearly ran into a skinny woman with dusty blonde hair, dressed in a guard's uniform. The black and gold looked as dull as ever as she scowled at me, her mouth opening on what I could assume was going to be an insult. But her eyes widened, mouth slamming shut when she finally registered who I was, and averted her gaze.
