Page 118 of No One’s Daughter

Not that there were many of them left now. Once the ruling family, they were now nothing more than cautionary tales.

He was seated to Valerius’s right, as though that was the most natural place in the world for him to be.

As though he belonged there.

I didn’t like it, because it meant that Valerius had been playing me all this time. He had to have known about Besian’s extracurricular activities… hadn’t he?

What part did Valerius play in Besian’s miraculous re-appearance?

Either way, I didn’t like him.

Didn’t like the way he carried himself. Far too relaxed, too self-assured. How hadn’t he gone mad in centuries of starved darkness?

He leaned back in his chair with an almost bored elegance, long fingers drumming lazily against the stem of his glass, green eyes flicking about the room with mild curiosity rather than calculation like everyone else.

But every so often… they landed on her.

And when they did, something in my chest tightened.

It wasn’t subtle.

Not to me.

The way his gaze lingered just a fraction too long, the faint tilt of his head, like he was studying her, dissecting her without ever needing to touch. There was interest there—real, undeniable interest—and it made my skin crawl.

He didn’t feel bound to Valerius’s authority in the same way the others were. If anything, there was an undercurrent between them, something unspoken that suggested Valerius didn’t quite have as much control over him as he would have it seem.

Dinner dragged on, the tension never quite easing, and when finally it began to wind down, chairs scraped softly against the marble as people began to seek other forms of entertainment.

Besian stood with them, stretching slightly like a man who’d just sat through something mildly tedious.

His gaze flicked to Ailsa once more.

Then, without a word, he turned and made his way along the length of the table.

Toward me.

I didn’t move, or react.

But every instinct in my body sharpened as he approached.

He paused just behind my chair.

Close enough that I could feel him.

Close enough that I could smell something faintly metallic beneath whatever expensive scent clung to him. Then he leaned in, just slightly. “Careful little spy,” he murmured into my ear, his voice low, smooth and amused. “You’re not the only one who sees her for what she is.”

My jaw clenched.

He let out a quiet chuckle, straightening again as though he hadn’t just dropped a blade between my ribs.

“And trust me,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “I plan on having front row seats to her rise. I do so enjoy collecting rare things.”

Then he was gone.

Walking past me like I was nothing.

Like I wasn’t already planning how I’d kill him if he so much as looked at her again.