But his truth lingered, haunting me.I can’t have what I want.
He wanted me. The thought stopped me cold in the middle of the hall. My lips curved into a smile before I could stop them, a giddy laugh slipping free. He desired me—truly. The thrill of it sent a spark through my veins, leaving me breathless.
Then it hit me—I’d left my boots behind. The absurdity of it broke whatever tension clung to me, and I chuckled, soft and incredulous. Barefoot, I padded toward my room, the cool stone floors grounding me as I held my secret close to my heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Nienna
Edith’s sharp gaze bore into me, and I felt every ounce of her displeasure. She’d been watching me all morning, her eyes heavy with questions she hadn’t voiced. I avoided her scrutiny as best I could, burying myself in a thick tome about Radaan’s districts.
Her expression said everything. She noticed my state last night—bootless, cheeks flushed—and drew her own conclusions.
I let her.
What could she do?
The rooftop confessions still lingered, a slow burn within. They made me feel alive, more like a woman than any whispered promise ever had.
He wanted me.
The thought refused to leave, circling back, an unbidden dream. My fingers slackened on the book I held, the paragraph before me unreadable despite my repeated attempts. My mind wandered instead to the way Kallias’ trousers clung to his thighs, powerful and unyielding. I never imagined legs like that on a man—thick and solid, carved like the roots of an ancient oak.
The book slipped from my hands, tumbling to the floor with a heavy thud. I scrambled to retrieve it, my yelp echoing in the quiet room.
Edith sat poised in her chair, her knitting forgotten as she fixed me with a knowing glare. Her gray brows pinched together, suspicion sparking in her eyes. She thought she knew.
She’d assume it was Tallon.
No one would guess it was his father.
Scythe burst through the door, boots swinging from her hand like trophies. “Found them!”
“Where were they?” Edith asked, before I could muster a word of gratitude.
“Ballroom,” she said. “Gwyn swears half the guests left their shoes behind. Must’ve been quite the evening.”
She turned her back to Edith and strode toward my dressing room, her steps purposeful. As she passed, she shot me a quick wink. Trust Scythe to cover for me without asking questions.
I had no engagements today, no summons from Fyrn. I wasn’t sure if her absence was due to my attire the previous night or the Velli guest. Either way, the reprieve suited me just fine.
A shiver skated down my spine as I remembered the ambassador’s smile. At first glance, he almost passed for normal, even handsome—until he opened his mouth. What drove someone to file their teeth to points? Necessity? Religion? The thought curled in my stomach.
“I’m certain you’ve taken ill,” Edith murmured, her knitting needles resuming their rhythm. Her narrowed eyes didn’t match her calm tone. “First flushed, now pale as a ghost. Perhaps it’s best if you skipped dinner.”
“I’m fine,” I said too quickly, my voice betraying me. I couldn’t risk missing him—Kallias. Not after last night.
The memory of the rooftop swirled, vivid and heady. He dismissed Greaves to be alone with me, something he’d never done before. Would he dare again? I swallowed hard, anticipation quickening my pulse.
Edith grunted as Scythe began humming, her tune light and aimless while she set out my evening attire. I resigned myself to a dull day, determined to remain as unremarkable as possible until dinner.
As I dressed, nerves twisted in my stomach. The gown I chose was far more modest than last night’s daring ensemble. Deep emerald velvet swept to the floor, its high neckline brushing my collarbone. The bodice hugged my figure, leaving little to the imagination. Sleeves clung to my arms, and the flat black boots beneath the hem promised a mercifully steady footing. No risk of twisting an ankle tonight.
Edith worked with deft fingers, pinning my hair into a cascade of soft waves that spilled down my back. She stepped away, her sharp eye assessing every detail, before a small smile broke through her usual sternness. “Beautiful.”
My shoulders eased, tension slipping away under her rare praise. Edith could be severe, but she’d been my nursemaid for as long as I could remember. If anyone could make me feel beautiful, it was her.
“Thank you,” I murmured, rising to smooth the folds of my dress.
