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If she isn’t sure it’s the right plan, who am I to insist that it is? The baron isn’t entirely wrong.
All at once, I feel like I’m back in the bow of the oak tree in Slaughterwell, watching life happen beneath me from a distance. I’ve witnessed plenty, sure, but how much have I truly lived before the past few months?
Do I even really know what I’m asking of Petra?
The doubt rises up in me so fast it steals my breath. I step back from the clash of voices and then stride out of the room.
On a matter this immense that involves her so personally, Petra should make up her own mind. She has plenty of other people in there who can advise her from various levels of society, all of whom probably have a better idea what’s really at stake than I do.
I walk almost blindly until I find myself stepping out the front door. The cool air washes over me, settling my thoughts and leaving my mind clearer.
I take a few more steps into the yard, breathing deeply and getting a grip on myself.
I’m not used to being an active participant in Silana’s politics. I’ll get more comfortable with it in time. Just a few minutes to sort myself out, and I can go back in there and say my piece if I feel I need to.
The door squeaks behind me. I barely have time to turn before Stavros’s well-muscled arm has wrapped around me.
I turn to meet his embrace instinctively, soaking up his warmth and his smoky, peppery scent, even as the question I know I have to ask creeps up my throat. “Shouldn’t you still be in there with the rest of them, figuring out the best approach? You’re the only general we’ve got.”
“Former general,” Stavros mutters, and teases his prosthetic down my back in a gentle caress. “I needed a break from them too. It was either that or there’d have been several broken noses and a not particularly happy queen-to-be.”
The corners of my mouth twitch with the start of a smile. “I think she might have understood a little.”
Stavros hums to himself and eases back just far enough to peer down at me. “You’re not letting them shake your confidence, are you, Lady Thief? The Hand of Kosmel knows more about schemes and treachery than those nobles could even conceive of.”
My momentary good humor fades. “They know a lot about plenty of other things I’ve never experienced.”
“Which is why we’re all at the table together, weighing in.” He cocks an eyebrow. “You didn’t let the horde of high-borns at the college intimidate you.”
I open my mouth and hesitate as I form a full answer. “I had Julita giving me an inside edge. And… I wasn’t there as myself. I was playing a role. It was easier.”
Easier not to care what they thought of me. Easier to drape myself in noble-style self-assurance like yet another fancy gown.
Of course, even if I’m not outright pretending to be someone else these days, I’m still not really being myself. I’m downplaying one of the most significant parts of me as much as I can, willing everyone around me to forget that I’m one of the riven.
Somehow that’s more uncomfortable than simply hiding my whole self away like I once did. But I’m going to have to get used to it.
Stavros dips his head closer, his voice dropping low with it. “I just don’t want to see you backing down. The woman I love has never shied away simply because a situation gets hard.”
A flush spreads over my body with his nearness, and I leap at the opportunity to focus on that heat rather than my worries.
I trail my fingers down his brawny chest, appreciating every ridge of sculpted muscle I can trace through his tunic. “I suppose that’s true. Certain things I particularly appreciate when they’re hard.”
The suggestive note in my voice clearly isn’t lost on the former general. He chuckles and catches my mouth with his.
As Stavros worships me with his kiss, our bodies press closer together. Desire pools low in my belly with the image of him pushing me right up against the side of the house, plunging into me without regard for noble sensibilities.
I’m not sure either of us would actually go quite that far. But before I get the chance to find out, a current of magic tickles across my skin from across the yard.
My back goes rigid, and Stavros yanks back. “What’s wrong?”
I pull back from him, scanning the landscape around the estate. “I felt… Someone extended magic this way…”
As I move forward, his hold on me loosens. We stalk over to the gate together.
The whiff of magic keeps drifting around me. I don’t sense anything aggressive about it, but that doesn’t mean the caster has good intentions.
Stavros tilts his head as if pricking his ear. “Someone’s coming.”
