Page 29 of Given to the Black King

My knees soften.

The gray thins from his eyes as his pupils spread.

“You put soap over your scent,” he says.

“Sera’s wash house.”

“It did not work.”

“I wasn’t trying to hide.”

A claw presses out from his smallest finger.

Then stops.

He releases me.

“Go back to your chair.”

The words are quiet. His claws sink farther into the hidden underside of the table.

I do not move.

“Everyone here is afraid of what you might do,” I say. “You’re afraid of it too.”

His jaw tightens.

“No.”

“Then what?”

His gaze drops to the pulse beneath his thumbprint.

“What I will not do.”

The answer catches low in my belly. He reaches for the wine with the same hand that held me. Four claws slide out around the cup without touching it.

“Your chair, Envoy.”

Rougher this time.

I go.

Callas leans close the moment I sit. “What in the nine hells was that?”

“I poured wine.”

“He smelled your wrist.”

“Yes.”

“In front of the council.”

“I was there.”

Callas stares at me.

Across the table, Torgan drinks without taking his eyes from mine. The claw marks beneath his hand deepen.