“Poetic.” Theron turns to me. “And you? Did you also feel this magnetic pull before ever meeting the prince of Slait?”
"Me? Oh. No, absolutely not. I found him insufferable when we met."
Kyrian chokes on his wine.
"Is that so?" Theron asks.
"Absolutely." I smile, taking a page from Kai’s manual and leaning into the truth for all it’s worth. "He was arrogant, demanding, and had this habit of looking at everyone as if they were beneath him." I glance at Kai, finding him inspecting the edge of his steak knife, and return my attention to Theron. "Which, I suppose, they were.”
"And yet here you are now," Theron observes.
"Here I am."
"Utterly besotted."
I flash a smile. "It turns out there's something... compelling about a male who knows exactly what he wants and isn't afraid to pursue it. By any means permitted. And by ones not permitted at all.”
Kai sets his knife aside and presses his thumb to the inside of my wrist, tracing slow, deliberate circles. Each pass sends a shiver up my arm.
"What Rowan neglects to mention, is how she challenged me at every turn. And how she refused to be intimidated when other humans cowered. And, most importantly, how her mind still leaves me struggling to keep pace."
He is so bloody convincing that he has half the room nodding along. Even me. My breath stutters before I can catch myself, then halts completely when Kai pulls away, the ghost of his touch still burning against my skin.
A game,I remind myself.This is all a game.
Just one I wish Kai didn’t play so well.
Celeste returns my dinner plate to me, the meat now at least giving the appearance of having been cooked. I force myself to eat though, with everything racing through my mind, I can hardly taste anything.
The conversation turns to matters of Flurry court, which I try my best to follow. New betrothals. Recent promotions. A pointed invitation for Kai and Kyrian to fly patrol with the riotthat’s accompanying the detachment. Just them. Not Logan. I don’t know what to make of this anti-Logan sentiment, but I file my questions away for later interrogation. For the most part though, I learn little by way of useful intelligence. Theron and his officers might have invited me to the table, but no one is sharing anything of strategic value with Commandant Ainsley’s daughter.
By the time dinner finally ends, I feel like I’ve been wrung out, beaten, and left to roast in the sun. Or maybe to an ice storm. I can’t tell whether I’m hot or cold actually. Just that being alive hurts. I mentally count the steps back to my tent, estimating how much longer I need to keep up the pretense of being a sentient being before I can collapse into my bedroll and coddle my pulsing migraine.
"Rowan." Kai's voice cuts through my mental calculations.
I blink, realizing I've been gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles. The tent spins lazily around me, faces blurring at the edges. "Hmm?”
“You are swaying.”
“I'm fine."
"And I’m a pretty human princess." He stands, his chair scraping against the ground, and extends his hand to Theron. "We should retire."
"Of course," Theron says, rising as well. His smile holds too many teeth. "Young love is so... energetic. Do try not to keep the entire camp awake with your celebrations."
Heat floods my cheeks, but before I can formulate a cutting response, Kai's arm slides around my waist, supporting more of my weight than I'd like to admit. The world tilts precariously as he guides me to my feet.
"Thank you for your hospitality," Kai says with cool politeness that somehow manages to sound like a dismissal. "We'll see you in the morning."
I manage to keep upright through sheer stubbornness as we make our way out of the tent, Kyrian falling into step beside us before the captain—whose name I realize I still don’t know—calls him away to talk about the draken patrol. The cool night air hits my overheated skin like a blessing, and I gulp it down greedily.
"Rowan!"
I turn to see Celeste, the pale-eyed attendant from dinner, hurrying toward us with a small bundle clutched to her chest. My vision doubles for a moment, seeing two of her approaching, before snapping back into focus.
"I thought you might have need of these," she says, slightly breathless as she catches up. Her eyes flick between Kai and me, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "For your... discomfort…? In case Prince Kyrian didn’t think of gathering some linen strips…?”
It takes my foggy brain a moment to process what she's implying. Then I realize—she thinks my unsteadiness is due to female cycles, not the dangerous cocktail of physical exhaustion, lack of tonic, and whatever else is happening to my body on this side of the wards.
