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And I’d made a grave mistake. Broke my one precious rule of survival in this hell.
I’d stupidly met his unblinking stare.
2
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Entering General Cyderial’s space was already an anxiety-inducing endeavor, but I felt an overpowering sense of danger standing in his shadow at that moment.
Attention on high alert, I calculated why he might be looking at me that way. What I might have done to offend him.
And fought with all I had to suppress a desire to rumble a warning drum from my chest.
No one was safe when this man did unusual things.
Not only had he stood upon my arrival, towering over me, his massive desk between us, but something in his usually bleak demeanor, something I could not put my finger on, had altered.
But what?
Blond hair was styled in his customary method, long in front, hanging in his eyes. His uniform had no new adornment, nor was it missing anything I recognized.
He looked exactly the same as he always did. Leveling me with a menacing and acutely focused glare—as he always would when I was forced to endure his presence.
His jaw did not appear to be ticking, and his eyes were not narrowed. The room did not smell of anger or aggression.
But I was unsafe.
Locked in his gaze, I tried my best to read what I found there, and came up at a loss.
He possessed that same measured, unblinking stare, pouring it over me. A glare that would make a grown man cower. Hell, I had seen him make grown men cower with a glance. Twice, in fact, both watchers—armed men—who had looked away from the general when they were being addressed for some breach in behavior.
Not a clue what that behavior was. Watchers never did anything but stand there silently… unless they were actively disciplining a student.
And I’d gone and met his eye like a fool and was trapped and extremely pensive.
This had to be some kind of test. I just didn’t know what the right action would be. Break eye contact and appear weak and affected? Hold his gaze and be judged aggressive or overly informal?
When instinct failed, I fell back on logic. Focusing on his eyes, unable to look away, I worked to separate the ocular organ from the man. Assessing as coldly as I could. Vorec green, an acidic shade that announced his hybrid status at first glance. It was a common enough color amongst our kind, so I looked for what made him unique. The human limbal ring, darker green than most. There were also flecks of gold in the mix, a sign that his mother must have possessed honeyed eyes. I wondered if she was as pretty as him.
Was it her bone structure that gave him high cheeks and a sharp jaw?
The cruel mouth that never smiled was as severe as always.
But something was very different. Hating that I could not figure it out, I waited, tamping down rising panic, reminding myself that I only had to get through this one last meeting.
Perhaps this was going to be another one of those strange appointments where he just stared at me for a good half hour before commanding me to leave.
“Private Lorieyn.”
Okay, he wanted to speak. I had prepared for that as well. “Sir.”
“Remain at attention.”
An easy enough command to follow. Or so I thought, before the general circled his desk and came to stand before me.
Seldom had he ever come this close. The rare occasions where he had, had been disciplinary and terrifying.
