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He stares ahead as he sips his drink.
“I think it’s time that we talked.” His face is relaxed, at odds with the tension in his tone.
“I’m not sure it is,” I disagree, mindful of anyone trying to listen in on our conversation.
“Not here, but maybe you’ll find yourself venturing into my suites again sometime this evening. Maybe you could use the front door this time,” he remarks casually.
But it’s no casual thing he asks of me, and I sense that he knows that.
After all, he is aware that I broke into his suites. What else does he know?
“Tempting, but not worth my life,” I reply, hiding.
He drains his glass before responding.
“And what about the life of your sister?” he asks, meeting my eyes for the first time since we came to the bar.
My grip tightens around the bladed fan at my wrist, and it’s an effort to keep my features neutral with the threat looming over Melodi’s life. I slowly turn to face the king, infusing my whispered words with as much venom as I possibly can.
“She has nothing to do with any of this, and if you or anyone else harms a hair on her head, so help me, I will—”
“You misunderstand me, Aika.” Einar’s words cut me off mid-sentence. “I do not mean Mel any harm.”
Mel?Aika? Since when does he feel so familiar with either of us?
His glacial-blue eyes stare back at me with a sincerity that I hadn’t expected.
“Then what did you mean?” I demand after a breath.
The music slows to a stop just as he nods, and he looks around the room as if he’s searching for someone.
Everyone applauds the latest round of dancers as I wait for Einar’s reply, but the next voice I hear isn’t his at all.
