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Whatever the truth was, I'd find it by paying attention. And whatever I felt about Leila, whatever my body had decided the instant she'd stepped off that shuttle, I'd keep it under control until I understood what I was dealing with.

Even if every instinct I possessed was arguing that I already knew.

Chapter 5

Leila

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing my hands down the emerald silk of my gown for what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes. The fabric whispered against my skin with each movement, the fitted bodice hugging my curves in a way that made me feel both powerful and exposed. The sleeves were long and elegant, the neckline modest yet somehow still flattering, and the skirt fell in soft waves that brushed the stone floor when I moved.

I looked like I'd stepped out of a medieval painting. Some lady waiting in a castle tower for her knight to defeat the dragon and rescue her.

Except I wasn't waiting for anyone, and the king I was about to have dinner with was the dragon.

"You can do this," I told my reflection, trying to inject confidence into my voice. "You've handled temperamental five-year-olds having meltdowns over the wrong color crayon. You can handle one moody dragon king who thinks you're part of some elaborate conspiracy."

My reflection didn't look convinced.

The comm unit on the desk chimed softly, and I crossed the room to answer it, grateful for the distraction. Chloe Blackwood's face appeared on the screen, her expression equal parts concern and curiosity.

"Binwee just briefed me on what happened at the landing platform," she said without preamble. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true. "Confused, but fine. Do you have any idea what he was talking about?"

Chloe's brow furrowed. "No, but I'm going to dig into it. The whole thing is strange. Drakhoni have enhanced senses, yes, but accusing you of treachery based on scent alone?" She shook her head. "There's something we're missing. Maybe something about Drakhoni culture or history that might explain his reaction."

"Well, if you figure it out, let me know, preferably before dinner," I said. "Because I have to sit across from him in about twenty minutes and pretend everything is perfectly normal."

"You'll be fine," Chloe assured me, though I could see the worry in her eyes. "Just remember your training. Observe, adapt, build trust. And Leila?" She paused. "Be careful. We don't know what we're dealing with yet."

After we disconnected, I stood there staring at the blank screen, trying to settle the nervous flutter in my stomach. This was my job. I'd been trained for situations like this, well, maybe not exactly like this, but close enough. I was good with people, good at reading them and building rapport even when they were hostile.

The problem was, I didn't trust my own judgment where Kavan was concerned. Because underneath the confusion and professional concern, there was something else. Something I really didn't want to examine too closely.

The way my pulse had jumped when he'd leaned in close to smell me. The heat that had flooded through me when I'd caught his scent, leather and pine and something wild that made my knees unreliable. The way his golden eyes had seemed to see straight through me, as if he could read every thought I'd ever had.

I was attracted to him. Dangerously, inconveniently attracted to him.

And that was a problem, because he clearly saw me as some kind of threat.

"Get it together, Hunter," I muttered, turning away from the comm unit. "You're a professional. Act like one."

A soft knock at the door made me jump. When I opened it, Artis stood in the corridor, his expression as serene as when he'd first shown me to my room.

"Lady Hunter," he said with a slight bow. "If you're ready, I'll escort you to the dining hall."

"Ready as I'll ever be," I said, stepping into the corridor and trying not to trip over my skirts.

Binwee was waiting outside her own suite, looking impossibly elegant in a flowing robe of deep purple that complemented her skin tone. She gave me an encouraging smile as we fell into step behind Artis.

"You look beautiful," she said quietly. "Very appropriate for a formal Drakhoni dinner."

"I feel like I'm about to walk into a lion's den," I admitted.

"Dragon's lair," she corrected with a hint of amusement. "But yes, I understand the sentiment. Just remember, you're here as a representative of the Alliance. You have every right to be here, and you've done nothing wrong."

I wished I felt as confident as she sounded.

The castle corridors were even more impressive at night. Torches burned in iron sconces along the walls, casting dancing shadows across the stone. Tapestries hung at intervals, depicting scenes I couldn't quite make out in the flickering light. Dragons in flight, battles, what looked like coronations. The air smelled of wood smoke and something herbal, perhaps the rushes scattered across the floor in some of the wider hallways.