Page 92

When she finally turned around, fully dressed, her expression was serene.

The bond told a different story. Satisfaction curled through it, the quiet, devastating pleasure of a woman who had just ruined me and knew it.

“Your turn,” she said.

“I cannot stand at present.”

The tilt of her mouth was sinful in its certainty, a taunt wrapped in silk. She knew the effect she had on me and she enjoyed it.

“Pity.”

She left the room with a swish of skirts and far too much composure for someone who had just deliberately destroyed me.

I fell back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe.

This was going to be a very long day.

The planning session convened in Diana's main room. Maps spread across tables that had been pushed together. Notes in various hands marked patrol routes, guard rotations, and defensive positions. Someone had sketched the Iron Spire—imperfect but serviceable.

Forty-five Weavers. Beatrice. Beth. Mira stationed beside Garrick, who had refused to remain in bed despite her protests. Adeline with her bandaged hands folded carefully before her.

Lily sat at the table directly in my line of sight.

I stood near the window with crossed arms and tried, with little success, to tether myself to strategy. We were discussing my father. His resources. His hunters. The timeline before he could mount an effective response to the corruption's death.

Critical matters. Urgent matters.

And yet.

Lily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Through the bond, the gesture became mine—her fingertips brushing her temple, the warmth of her skin, the silk of that copper strand sliding into place. She didn't know what she'd done. Didn't know that such a small, careless thing could undo me.

I lost track of what Beth was saying.

“August?”

I blinked. “Forgive me. The eastern approach?”

“You mentioned it was exposed.”

“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Open ground for nearly a quarter mile. Father would see any approach well before it reached the walls.”

I forced my attention to the map.

“The western approach offers better cover,” I continued. “Tree line extends nearly to the wall. However, patrols are more frequent. Two men, rotating.”

“Can we neutralize them?” Beatrice asked.

Lily leaned forward to examine the map. The motion shifted the neckline of her dress. Nothing that would draw notice from anyone else in the room.

But I was not anyone else. The fabric against her collarbone. The warmth of her skin beneath.

“Neutralize. Yes.” I pushed away from the window and moved toward the table. “A mender's nerve suppression would serve. Or we could time our approach between shifts.”

I placed my hands on the table and leaned over the map. The position put me close to her—close enough to catch the scent of her hair, close enough that my arm nearly brushed hers.

Through the bond, I let her feel exactly what I was thinking.

Her breath caught. Quiet enough that no one else noticed.