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His eyes followed the bob of my throat as I swallowed.
“Yes,” I bit out.
He smiled, the look full of affection. “Very good.” His smile turned mischievous as he curved a hand around my waist, tugging me directly under his eyeline. “And do you not think,” he whispered, “that as someone who has recently recovered from your knife in my back, I am being exceptionally reasonable?”
I glared up at him. “I think that as someone whose anger nearly drove him to kill me, you are being predictably spiteful.”
Erik’s brow twitched—the closest he would come to wincing at my sharp words. Then, unexpectedly, he dropped his gaze in what appeared to be remorse.
“In all my life,” he said softly, “I have regretted nothing more than I regret hurting you that night.” He raised his free hand toward my throat, and I couldn’t control my slight recoil. But he only grazed his knuckle across my juddering pulse as though to soothe away the pain—and the memory—of what he’d done. “I will never hurt you that way again. I swear it.”
The vow meant little to me, its shoddy construction hinging on the words that way. It meant he could still hurt me in other ways.
And I had little doubt that he would.
His gaze fell upon my mouth then, heavy with longing, and my heartbeat gained speed. As he slowly lifted my chin with the crook of his finger, some wild, foolish impulse had me reaching toward the table behind him to grasp a sharp serving fork.
At the clink of the fork against the dish, I went rigid, sense flooding back to me.
What had I been about to do? Stab my supposed fiancé right here in the middle of Banarrat? If Erik’s own guards didn’t rain hell down upon me, then Holden certainly would, if for no other reason than to punish me for injuring his new ally.
Yet as Erik’s gaze slinked sideways to where my white-knuckled fist enclosed the handle . . . I couldn’t release my grip. Yes, I needed to convince him of my compliance. And yes, I would perform whatever role he required of me until Perla and I could get away. But although I’d kissed him before, the idea of letting him kiss me now—like this—was suddenly too much to bear.
Because I knew this wouldn’t be an act. For him, it would be rooted in truth.
He looked back at me and sighed. “You think I would take your lips for myself against your wishes?” he murmured. He leaned down as though to close the distance between us, and my hand tightened around the fork. But he turned toward my ear instead, his words grazing against me. “I have always wanted you to want this, Alissa. If you are not yet a willing participant . . .” He pulled back with a sad smile, briefly brushed the pad of his thumb across my mouth in the echo of a kiss, and said, “I’ll wait.”
It was not the first time he’d said those words to me: I’ll wait. But tonight, their inevitability filled me with more dread than ever as he released me and ambled toward the dinner table.
I followed slowly, shaken, my mind whirring to form a plan. With Perla binding me here as surely as a thorn-studded oath band, I couldn’t warn the others of Erik’s arrival.
Which meant we had to go through with the plan to fake Perla’s drowning.
The moment she was out of Erik’s reach, he would lose his leverage over me. I would still be outnumbered, but I would also have the advantage of surprise, especially in the chaos following Perla’s dive. I could take down a fair few of Holden’s soldiers—even Holden himself—before they knew where the attack was coming from.
I was most concerned about the prospect of attacking Erik.
Despite my training with Goren, I knew my specter was still unprepared for battle. Still too functionally immature, gorging too heavily on my emotion. And, as I was beginning to understand, it was a uniquely paralyzing experience to face a person who had once rendered you defenseless. A person who had worn you down into the most primal version of yourself, all helplessness and desperation.
The truth was: Erik still elicited in me the greatest fear I’d ever known.
And I didn’t know how to unlearn that fear before the night was over.
“I thought you young lovers would never let up,” Holden said, smirking as I took my seat directly across from him, beside Erik.
Holden had placed Perla at the head of the table, on my immediate left, as a bridge between the Daradonian side and the Banarrati side. He’d chosen that position to mock her, reminding her that she belonged to neither territory.
“My king had it quite right,” I replied lightly to Holden. “We have suffered from being apart. Such is the cost of a faithful partnership.” I raised a brow. “Though I doubt you would know much about that concept, General.”
Holden’s smile tightened, as I expected it would. He likely didn’t want Erik knowing that he’d invited me into an affair.
And clearly, he hadn’t thought I would be bold enough to bring it up.
We served ourselves from the dishes, their aromatic steam hazing the air. My trembling had subsided enough that I could spoon out the grain-and-parsley salad without betraying my nerves. But still, Erik served me before himself, heaping my favorite pastries onto my plate and slicing a lemon wedge for my salad, just the way I liked. Then Finbar reached toward the bread basket, the pull of his shirt revealing the edge of his tattoo sleeve.
“Those are interesting markings for a blood-royal,” Erik said. His tone was casual, and yet his stare betrayed an intensity I couldn’t understand.
Finbar held the king’s gaze with a bored flatness which I initially interpreted as a product of drink. But looking at his full wineglass, I realized he hadn’t had a drop since the meal began. “You know about Ansoran history?” he asked coolly.
