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Her injured knee was screaming. Her good leg was quivering, desperate for relief after taking her weight for so long. Sweat beaded along her spine. “I would like to retire,” she said firmly.
“Not yet.” Skyer’s arms dropped from the back of the settee as he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on her. “If we are to be stuck here for weeks, I would know everything that has been happening in Mortise. If I learn that you left anything out, I will not be pleased.”
“Can’t we speak in the morning, Skyer? I’m tired.” Impatience infiltrated her words, hardening her tone.
“No. This is important. I wanted to speak earlier today, but you were unable to accommodate me. Now, you will.”
Her teeth clenched. Challenge flared in his dark eyes—a challenge she would meet, fates blast it. “Very well,” she said, grinding her teeth.
Skyer’s head dipped. “Good. But before you do, I have one more request. As my future wife, you will call meEilanfrom now on.”
Her skin prickled at that, but she had no good reason to deny him.
We need this alliance,her father had told her, desperation in every word.Please, Imara. Please . . .
Imara swallowed thickly. “Of course, Eilan.”
Skyer’s lips curved. “Very good, Imara. Now, tell me everything.”
Sitting in her office the next day, Imara’s entire body ached. Her legs were so stiff she had difficulty moving around, even with her cane.
She didn’t know how long she’d stood facing Skyer last night. An hour? Two? Hanna had peeked in on them three times, and each time Skyer had waved her back.
Pure, stubborn pride had kept Imara standing. That was all. And it had snapped the moment he’d strode from the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, she’d collapsed on the colorful rug.
She told Hanna and Kaz that she’d tripped, but they knew it was a lie. She could see it in their faces.
She’d been drenched in sweat, and her muscles spasmed painfully as they’d helped her to her bed. Her muscles still twitched, even now, taut and strained beneath her skin.
Hanna had suggested she stay in the suite today, but Imara couldn’t tolerate the prospect of staying in bed, and she refused to sit on that settee—or look at it. So, Kaz had carried her to her office first thing this morning.
The old spymaster’s notes were sitting beside her, but she didn’t have the energy to pursue the puzzle that had absorbed her so much only yesterday.
A light rap on the door gave her only a brief moment to straighten her shoulders before Desfan walked in. His expression was oddly cautious. “Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning.” A flutter in her stomach made her breath hitch.
He closed the door and crossed to the chair he’d occupied yesterday. “I went to your suite. I was surprised you weren’t there.”
They’d established a routine; he always walked with her or carried her to her office each morning before going to his.
“I didn’t sleep well,” she said. “I was anxious to get an early start.”
His eyes grew more serious. “Are you sure you weren’t avoiding me?”
That’s precisely what she’d been doing. She wasn’t going to admit it, though. “Of course not.”
He didn’t look like he believed her.
Imara picked at her turquoise skirt, before smoothing it over her knee. “I heard Yahri is giving Skyer a tour of the palace today.”
“Yes,” he said, his tone a little too even. “It should take them a good long while.”
She peeked up at him. “You don’t need to protect me from Skyer.”
Desfan stiffened slightly. “I don’t like him.”
A half-laugh escaped her. “He’s not the most likable person. At least not at first. He has a . . . strong personality.”
