Page 71 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

It made Zarek position himself in a way she hadn’t expected.

He didn’t step away from her.

Instead, he stepped in as if shielding her.

“If there are concerns over Miss Duboise’s presence while in the Keep,” he said to the other men, his tone carrying the authority of command, “they are mine to answer for.”

The room recalibrated instantly. Attention redirected to Zarek, where no one dared challenge him. But he had aligned himself with her in front of his peers.

Publicly.

Surely, this action would cost him.

But as he stood there, the faintest shimmer of fire stirred beneath the sigils etched into his armor. The flame was so fine it danced across the leather, rippling like ribbons until the staves brightened, and that flame…

His show of authoritative strength—damn, didn’t it make him look sexy the way he stood up to them!

Then he turned, stepping close enough that his body’s warmth brushed the air between them. His voice lowered to such an intimate murmur that when his breath hit the skin where her shoulder and neck met, it prickled with a pleasurable shiver that spread down her spine.

“I’ve kept my part of the treaty.” There was the faintest hint of amusement in his tone, no doubt watching the effects of his words race across her skin. “Now it’s your turn. Off to Magick School you go.”

Asshole.

She couldn’t help but match his grin, which he topped with a quick wink. For a heartbeat, the captain dissolved, and she saw the man beneath the armor—the one who verbally sparred with her in corridors and chambers, who listened when she demanded answers, who she negotiated with behind bathroom doors, while seeming to enjoy her refusal to be intimidated.

It did unsettling things to her pulse.

Spending time with Zarek had changed something between them. He softened around her, just slightly, as though the armor loosened in her presence. And she, despite every logical instinct screaming caution, looked for the flicker of warmth beneath the severity he showed others.

But the room and this crowd did nothing to soften who he was, as several of the Vanguard officers were intently watching. It made her nervous.

Zarek straightened, and the grin vanished as though it had never existed. The staves etched into his black leathers flared like a ripple across his shoulders. “Tamarr.” The warmth was gone from his voice. “Take Miss Duboise to her classes. I’ll speak with you later, Angela. Go now.”

He did not look at her when he spoke, yet she felt the warning in the flare of his power radiating outward, a reminder to the room to contain their curiosity.

He was being very protective. Over her.

“This way, Miss,” Tamarr said gently.

Angela followed, telling herself it was the politics of the moment that unsettled her—not the way his voice had brushed her ear, or that she’d liked the way he smiled only for her.

So when the door of the war chamber closed behind her, Angela inhaled deeply to embrace the coolness.

Good. Her aunt was being taken care of.

Not good—because her aunt was in danger because of her!

Escorted by Tamarr down the corridors, soldiers stepped aside when she approached. They kept their eyes lowered and shoulders angled away. Some women lingered to watch and whisper behind their hands, adjusting their sleeves that too had silver threads as if drawing attention to their status.

But the gowns were different colors and styles, like a uniform of sorts.

The house staff, like Tamarr, wore white cotton shirts, brown vests, black skirts or trousers with hair tucked beneath scarves or fitted caps. Soldiers wore gray leather, structured uniforms. After that meeting, she’d noticed the higher the rank, the darker the leather became; the silver buckles multiplied at belts and shoulders, catching torchlight like declarations of authority.

Zarek’s black armor stood apart.

His leathers weren’t merely dark—they were an absolute black, battle-worn, and etched with staves that, when not glowing, absorbed the light. No silver, only scarred and blackened metal. While others displayed rank, Zarek embodied it, that everything about him breathed authority.

“Tamarr, exactly who or what is Captain Zarek in the Vanguard?”