“They’re greedy, backstabbing snakes who wouldn’t know honor if it hit them in the face.” Mylis rubbed slow, gentle circles into her arm. Understanding shone in his dark eyes, and as he took deep breaths, she forced herself to match the rhythm.
“I expected it of Leighton, but Hewlett was Aunt Calida’s friend?—”
“Hewlett is a schemer and a traitor,” Mylis said stiffly, as his hand dropped to his side, “and the only person he’s ever been loyal to is himself.”
Anger lurked in his eyes, but it was a distant, faraway look—not directed at her, but at the man who’d abandoned him to foster care and homelessness. She’d read the background check on Mylis, and the reports from his childhood were downright horrifying. He had good reason to hate Hewlett. How Aunt Calida had ever thought she could trust a man who’d turned on his infant godson, she would never know.
But Vale and Uncle Jerran had been right. She couldn’t remove a noble from the Advisorium just because they refused to support her.
Except…
Kalie’s eyes widened.
“What?” The anger in Mylis’s gaze vanished, replaced by concern. Glancing over his shoulder, he took a step closer and tilted his head towards hers. “What’s wrong?”
She could remove Hewlett.
His reign over Oakwood, while sanctioned by Aunt Calida, was unlawful. It belonged to Mylis. Overturning the bill of attainder blocking his inheritance would be difficult, but the payoff would be immense—a loyal soldier in place of a count whose power had grown unchecked.
Mylis’s hand rubbed circles into her arm. He looked so anxious, soconcerned for her. He was probably the only person in this palace who even cared. As his gentle caresses grew slower, she found herself melting into his touch. He could prove to be a loyal ally. It was easier to breathe with him standing before her—a friend she’d already come to rely upon, someone she could grow to trust.
They were so close their foreheads were almost touching. Her heart pounded in her ears. He smelled of cedar and sandalwood, of forests and nature, and they were far too close for propriety—but she didn’t pull away.
“Kalie,” Mylis whispered. She loved the way her name sounded on his lips, like the most devout prayer and the sweetest dream—someone safe, reliable, dependable?—
Then footsteps thundered around the corner.
As Zane blazeddown the marble hallways, fire roared in his chest, with memories and nightmares as kindling.
The bombed-out husk of Mom’s base. A pool of blood marking the spot where she fell.
That Mordir-blasted battlefield. The corpses. The screams. His hands, coated in viscera. His sobs. Labored breaths. Adark hand on his cheek. The thunderclap of cannons. Bloody fingerprints he hadn’t been able to wash off for days. The broken body sprawled in his arms. And a once-beautiful sky, blazing orange like fire.
He turned into a corridor of sunlight.
Mylis stood inches apart from Hannover, and they were gazing into each other’s eyes?—
“Damn you.”
They sprang apart, and as Hannover paled, Mylis spun between them. His wide eyes quickly narrowed. “Watch yourself, Zane.”
“Watchyourself,” he shot back. He loomed over Mylis, but Mylis glared up at him. Zane scowled. “You’re going to stand with her? Leighton was right, she doomed us all!”
“She’s our Duchissa!”
Zane scoffed. Lovestruck moron. “She’s never going to sleep with a nobody like you, so you might as well give up?—”
“Stop!”
Hannover’s cry reached his ears as Mylis pulled back his fist. Zane squared up, tensing to catch the blow. Mylis would strike low, but he could catch it.
Pale fingers closed around Mylis’s fist, stopping the punch. Zane could see it now, the all-consuming rage always boiling under Mylis’s skin. It flashed in his eyes. It showed in his snarl. Zane refused to step back, but a pit grew in his stomach.
Mylis would be a dangerous enemy.
Hannover held Mylis’s fist at his side. She’d slipped between them, and the two of them gazed at each other like stupid, sappy fools.
“Give us a moment,” she murmured. “Please, Mylis.”
