Page 17

Even with the hard floor beneath his feet and the distant sounds of the city drifting up from below, the sight struck something deep within him. It was not home, but it was reaching toward it—an effort he had not expected.

And in the center of it all stood Linnea.

Gone were the formal silver robes of the chancellor. Instead, she wore a dress of shimmering, nearly translucent fabric. The same dress she’d worn to her brother’s weddings. The material caught the light from the oil lamps scattered around the room, making her glow like a mirage on the desert horizon.

He had seen her in less, a fact his body remembered all too well, but his throat tightened nonetheless as memories of that night welled up within him.

The guard closed the door behind him with a soft click, leaving them alone in this strange blending of their worlds.

"I arranged for traditional Dothvek food," Linnea said, her voice carrying the formal tone of her position despite the intimate setting. "And had the room prepared to make you feel more welcome."

"You didn't need to do that," he replied, the words coming out gruffer than intended. "But... thank you."

What he didn't say was how the sight of her standing beneath tent-like fabric transported him instantly back to the oasis village—to that night when duty and tribe had been forgotten in favor of something else entirely. The very memory he'd been fighting to erase.

She gestured to a low table set with bowls and platters. "Please, sit."

He crossed the room and lowered himself to the cushions, surprised to find furs and rugs layered beneath them. The food spread before them wasn't exactly like the meals served in his village, but it was close enough that a wave of homesickness crashed over him, followed by grudging gratitude.

There was braised meat in rich, spiced sauce, flatbread still warm from the oven, and roasted vegetables that reminded him of their solstice celebrations. Someone had gone to considerable trouble to research and prepare this meal.

They began eating in silence, the tension between them thick. Linnea reached for a metal implement beside her plate, attempting to spear a piece of meat, and he couldn't suppress a grin.

She noticed immediately. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"Dothveks eat meat with wedges of bread," he explained, tearing off a piece of the flatbread to demonstrate. Without thinking, he scooped up a portion of the spiced meat and held it toward her lips. "Like this."

She hesitated only briefly before leaning forward to accept the offering. Her lips brushed his fingertips as she took the food, sending a jolt through his body that had nothing to do with the spices.

He pulled back quickly, dabbing his fingers on another piece of bread while fighting to control his breathing.

"You're not being honest," he said abruptly, meeting her eyes across the table. "About why you brought me here tonight. Why you've gone to such lengths for this dinner."

Linnea sat straighter, adopting her chancellor's posture. "I want to improve diplomatic relations between our peoples. As leaders, we should—"

"Try again," he interrupted, watching her composure crack around the edges.

She spluttered, stammering something about cultural exchange before her shoulders suddenly slumped. The mask fell away completely.

"Fine. I wanted you to come,” she admitted, the words bursting forth like water breaking through a dam. "I've never felt as alive as I did during that night in the village. I was an idiot to think that ordering you to come here would work out well, that you'd just..." She shook her head, her dark curls catching the lamplight. "I understand now that it meant more to me than it did to you. I'm sorry for commanding you to come to the city. If you want to leave, I won't stop you."

Her vulnerability stunned him into silence. The powerful Crestek leader, laying her desires bare without pretense or political maneuvering. The passion in her words struck him like a physical blow.

He studied her face in the warm light—the slight quiver of her lower lip, the defiant tilt of her chin even in her vulnerability. She was Crestek, yes, but she was also simply Linnea—the woman who had felt like fire in his arms on the sands.

"I have no intention of leaving," he said finally.

She nodded, resignation settling across her features. "I suspected you wouldn't want to let your leader down."

"It has little to do with that anymore,” he said, his voice dropping lower. "And everything to do with you."

Linnea's head snapped up, her eyes widening as she processed his words.

The last rational part of his mind screamed warnings—about duty, about the dangers of entanglement with the enemy, about the impossibility of anything lasting between the chancellor of the Cresteks and a Dothvek warrior.

He silenced it.

"Now it's time for me to give you an order," he said, rising from the cushions and moving toward her with the slow, deliberate pace of a hunter. "Take me to your bed."