What in Astara does that even mean?
“Your sister,” he stated in a gruff voice that had my ears perking up, paying attention. “She marked for a water affinity, same as you, correct?”
“You shouldn’t know that,” I stated. “Howdo you know what my sister marked as?”
“I have my ways,” he responded, his voice staying low, and I tried pulling back from him slightly, my head craning up to meet his gaze as alarm flashed in my eyes. The action was to no avail, seeing as he didn’t allow me to pull back. Instead, he tugged me firmly back toward his muscle-clad frame.
As a result of the motion, my thigh brushed up against a metal edge, my gaze dipping briefly to the guns—plural—strapped in holsters across muscular thighs.
Fuck. Me.
“Members of the Royal Solis Guard don’t have access to our records,” I stated, repeating what both Luc and my father had confirmed years ago as my heart beat far too fast, ice cold terror washing over me. “So, unless you’ve met my sister in person—which I highly doubt you have—then there should be abso-fucking-lutely no way that you know what she marked as this week.”
“And yet,” he replied simply, the scent of amber and leather surrounding us, “I know what affinity she was gifted with. I also know that her results have been tampered with.” His voice dropped low as he stated those words, and I froze.
A dead stop in the middle of the dance floor.
He carried me through the movements, my feet missing thebeat of the next few steps as I stumbled, terror coursing through me in waves.
Nope.
No.
No.
No.
This could not be happening.
“No.” It was a hoarse whisper.
A faltered word.
A plea to the gods that he was lying.
He said nothing, his jaw ticking—a movement I could only pick up by the slight shift of his dunewrap—as he moved me to the beat, my feet following numbly as we danced gracefully across the floor.
“You’re lying,” the words barely slipped my lips.
“We both know I’m not.”
“You can’t possibly know that. Not unless—” I halted mid-sentence.Not unless you were there too. Not unless you were conspiring against King Lucanus.
I tried to step back—to break free of his firm hold, but he only tightened his grip.
I was trapped.
“Let. Go. Of. Me.” Each word was a low demand as I struggled to break free without drawing attention to myself.
“I will, but not until you hear me out.” His eyes narrowed, a flicker of a plea radiating through their surface. I ground my teeth, searching the flecks of gold as I studied the male in front of me.
On one hand, if he was committing any form of treason, I wanted as much space between us as possible; I couldn’t afford to be seen with him. On the other hand, if he knew something—anything—about my sister, if there was a way to protect her . . .
And if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t want to leave. Not yet, at least.
“Fine,” I stated finally. “You have one dance, then I’m gone.”
His head nodded in agreement, black curls framing his forehead. His eyes darted around the room, searching through the shadows as he spun me around. The skirts of my dress swept in an arch as I moved across the floor, the next song picking up.
