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Madinia had trusted me. She’d gotten to Prisca in time.
But I was in an extraordinarily dangerous position. Sabium had a tendency to lash out when his plans were impeded. It was one of the only times his mask of civility would fall.
By now, Sabium would have heard about the hybrid camp in Gromalia. According to my spies, the Gromalian king was furious, implying that Sabium had set some kind of trap in retaliation for hosting the hybrid heir. Eryndan had demonstrated a surprising amount of spine, his message to Sabium terse, verging on threatening.
Sabium had blamed Eryndan’s people, accusing them of leaking the information. But he would be looking to his own people as well. If Tymedes chose to risk implicating me…
Or if Sabium learned that the woman who rescued the hybrid heir had once been one of my ladies…
My memory supplied me with an image of his graveyard, and the back of my neck grew clammy.
I remained in the library, twitching at every footstep on the stone corridor outside. Half of me expected several guards to march in and drag me to the dungeon.
But Sabium was far too controlled for that. When he had me killed, I would be taken from my own rooms and dragged to that graveyard. Or perhaps, he would simply poison me at dinner, his eyes alight with suppressed mirth. My death would be a quiet, private agony. And directly after, Sabium would no doubt publicly mourn the “love of his life.”
More footsteps. Despite my logical analysis of the situation, some part of me still expected the door to slam open at any moment.
Instead, a quiet knock sounded.
I cleared my throat. “Enter.”
The servant bowed. “The king requests your presence for dinner, Your Majesty.”
He backed out of the room at my nod. Steeling myself, I returned to my chambers, splashed water on my face, and pinched my cheeks until some of the color returned. Finally, I made my way down to the man I wanted dead more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
Sabium raked his gaze down my body as I entered the room. Seated at the table, he kept his spine erect, shoulders squared. Yet his jaw was set, his fingers curled slightly inward, nails pressing into his palm. Though his expression was carefully neutral, tension lingered at the corners of his eyes as they met mine.
“Not even bothering to dress for dinner?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to be back tonight.”
One of the servants stepped forward and pulled out my chair. I sat down, waving him away.
The oak table was laid with ornate silver and fine bone china, Sabium had chosen the more intimate dining room in his chambers tonight—likely in an effort to ensure I was off-balance.
He raised one eyebrow. “I hadn’t realized you paid such close attention to my comings and goings.”
“People talk. Everyone in this castle knows you captured the hybrid heir. I assume she’s dead?” I asked, voice casual as I gestured for a servant to fill my wine.
The muscle that twitched in Sabium’s cheek told me my question had struck true.
“No. Somehow, she managed to free herself and disappear. My men arrived to find the guards dead or locked in a cage, the heir gone.”
My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat.
“I don’t understand.” Was he telling me this because he suspected me somehow? And why hadn’t he mentioned Madinia?
“She picked the locks on her manacles. The guards were so useless, they allowed my greatest enemy free. Their idiocy may have cost this kingdom everything.”
Shock sucked the breath from my lungs. Sabium’s gaze clung to my face, and our eyes held for several excruciating moments. Finally, he leaned back in his chair. He’d suspected me somehow, but I’d been exceedingly aware of his body language for decades now. He’d decided my reaction was believable.
It wasn’t surprising that the hybrid heir had escaped. That crafty bitch had humiliated Sabium time and time again.
No, I had only one question. A question that made my shoulders slump.
Where was Madinia?
Had she chosen not to trust me?
