Niely shrugged, all in his element of bragging as he listed the number of rebels he’d killed during his missions. Apparently, Anees had been right. A dress and an innocent grin were as good a weapon as the steel safely tucked into her skirts at her hip. Better perhaps, in this particular case.
“To make it short,” he ended his lecture, “the rebels aren’t terrifying at all. It’s the magic wielders I’m concerned about. Those are the real threats to Brestolya.”
This time, Lory’s heart did stop, if only for a beat or two, and her eyes darted over Niely’s shoulder to find Khayrivven, who was still dancing close by, but his attention was on the chestnut-haired woman in a deep-blue silk gown who was rapidly blinking at him like she’d gotten something in her eyes when she was probably trying to flirt.
The smile Khayrivven wore was perfectly polite, and his shoulders relaxed, but a muscle feathered in his jaw, one of his few tells. Had he heard Niely’s statement? Or was he merely annoyed from being trapped in a role? Then she noticed his occasional peek to the other dais in the room—a dais of carved, white marble. On top of it stood four guards in beige and gold uniforms, framing an empty, gilded throne.
Left and right of the throne stood four chairs, their dark wood a stark contrast to the brighter colors of the room andthe shimmering throne. Two women were sitting on one side of the throne, three men on the other.
When Lory was about to take a closer look, Niely spun her to the side, slowing the dance with the music as the dondura finished.
“It’s a shame we can’t kill all of them, isn’t it?”
As if something had hit her on the head, Lory jerked back into the conversation, realizing two things at once: one, she’d forgotten to pay attention to her form and movements while dancing—she might have made no better impression than the street rat she was. Two, she hadn’t noticed when Niely had called Ashthorn theacademyearlier. He knew. About Ashthorn Ward, about the magic wielders being honed into weapons there, and he didn’t seem too happy.
If he suspected anything about her gifts, he didn’t let on, but Lory couldn’t help but wonder what his position in the military was. Lord Niely was too well informed to be a nobody.
“Indeed.” That little word cost Lory all her self-restraint, and its bitter aftertaste was that of betrayal, even when this was a role and she’d shed the mask the moment she was out of there. “I just hope they’ll catch the magic wielders responsible for the attacks in Dunai soon.” It was a dangerous line she was walking, but if she didn’t push, she might waste all of the evening with someone who wouldn’t deliver a morsel of useful information. And so Niely wouldn’t suspect where she’d known about the attacks from, she amended, “Itwasmagic wielders, right? When my aunt told me about what she witnessed from her house, I couldn’t believe it. I’ve heardmagic was dangerous, but not like this…” She gave him a half-pleading, half-flirtatious look she didn’t feel. “I feel unsafe alone in Dunai. Perhaps that’s why I feel drawn to military men.”
By Eroth, protection was the last thing she needed. As if in response, fire crackled in her veins, spreading in a carpet of heat along her skin.
Shit!
She needed to move and now, or Niely would very soon become very much aware of the forbidden magic living beneath her skin.
“I’m”—she panted for emphasis—“a little winded.”
Niely, gentleman that he wanted to come across as, instantly moved them off the dance floor and into a corner, where Lory pulled out of his grasp to pick up a crystal glass filled with something spicier than water, praying that her hands wouldn’t heat so much that the liquid would boil and dissipate.
“Breathe.”His voice came out of nowhere, and her back met the wall as she leaned into the corner, forcing her frantic heart to slow.“In and out, Lory. In and out. You’ve got this. Don’t let Niely upset you.”Khayrivven’s voice in her head meant that he’d pulled her into a trance-like state and that he’d overheard the entire conversation.
Much to her surprise, Lory wasn’t upset about it either. The trance actually helped her mind stop spinning, and her heart slowed its violent beat to a calm thud.
“As long as Niely won’t touch me, I’m certain no one will notice I’m about to go up in flames,”Lory responded, notallowing herself to search the dance floor for him, as in her mind, she saw the room as if she wasn’t in a state of half-awake, but the colors swirled in a kaleidoscope of shapes and patterns.
“You can hold on for a little longer, Lory. You’re so close.”The confidence in Khayrivven’s tone eased Lory’s rising panic. He trusted her to handle herself, even when she was about to become a living torch.“You are strong, Lory. Powerful. You don’t need to set a palace on fire to prove it. Control over your magic is the power no one can take from you. It means the difference between life and death.”
His face appeared between the moving couples on the dance floor, expression polite, but his eyes filled with the fire of the rebel she now knew him to be. Guardians, how she loved that face, how her entire world narrowed on his eyes, on the secrets hidden behind them. So much about this man she still didn’t know, but one thing she was absolutely certain of.
His lips twitched in a half-grin before he spun his dancing partner around, vanishing in the crowd, and when Lory finally focused again, Niely’s warm brown face was filling her vision. Her breathing was accelerated, but her skin no longer threatened to catch fire from within, and when Niely placed his hand on her bicep, lowering his head so he looked directly into her eyes, he didn’t cringe away as if he’d just touched a furnace.
A breath of relief whistled from Lory’s throat as she inclined her head at him. “I’m sorry, I… I feel better now.” She caught her composure.
“For a moment there, I believed you’d faint, Miss Vednis.” Dark eyes squinted, he scrutinized her as he guided her to a small table at the side, pulling out one of the carved wooden chairs for her and waiting for her to sit before pulling the second one up next to hers and settling in, eyes on the dance floor. “Had I known the topic of magic would affect you in such a way, I would have talked about the weather instead.” Niely waved over one of the men circulating the room with silver trays, picking two crystal glasses from it and handing one to Lory. “This will make you feel much better.”
With a smirk, he kicked back the rose-colored liquid in the elegant glass, gesturing for Lory to do the same.
Reluctantly, Lory lifted it to her mouth, inhaling the floral scent of what could have been desert roses and cinnamon, then tasting the sharp and spicy liquid.
“Is this the first time you’re drinking King Ulder’s favorite wine?” A groomed brow rode up his forehead. “Well, glad to give you a first, Miss Vednis. Perhaps the first of many firsts.” His smirk spoke of dim rooms and lush carpets, of low moans and bad awakenings, but Lory had to admit there was a polished handsomeness to the noble soldier that reminded her of Hadrian Bleek, an entitlement that gave him the confidence to reach for whatever he wanted. It was as interesting a trait as it was an appalling one.
She swallowed the mouthful of wine, locking eyes with Niely as she whispered, “I doubt you can give me a first of any sort.” Perhaps using his attitude and his own words against him worked better than playing the damsel in distress. After all, Niely was determined to best Khayrivven.Every word, every touch, she could tell, was designed to provoke the man whose power would one day destroy Ulder’s rule. “Except…”
“Except?” Niely leaned in another inch, his face close enough to make people’s heads turn.
Lory took a steadying breath. She could do this. “Except if you tell me what’s really going on. That attack… Was it really magic wielders?” Keeping the fear out of her voice was an exercise of self-restraint, but she managed. She managed, just as she’d managed to control her magic. Like she’d managed to stay in character this whole time. Like she was still managing not to screen the room for Khayrivven’s face to assure herself he was still there. “Or is something worse coming for this city?”
An intrigued grin crept onto Niely’s face, and he lifted his arm, placing it on the backrest of her chair in a casual gesture, his tone so soft she needed to strain her ears, even when he was mere inches away. “No need to worry, Miss Vednis. Us soldiers have the situation under control. The Pervaille family won’t sneak their rebels into our city much longer.”
