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A bitter laugh escaped him, echoing off the stone walls. He, who had always lived by instinct rather than calculation, would now need to become as politically adept as any Crestek councilor. The irony was not lost on him.

As he finally emerged from the water, his skin flushed from the heat, he caught his reflection in the polished metal mirror on the wall. He hardly recognized himself—the fierce Dothvek warrior now caught in a web of secrecy and desire, playing at politics while his heart thundered with forbidden longing.

"What have you begun, Zexx?" he murmured to his reflection.

Only silence answered, broken by the soft bubbling of the pool behind him and the distant sounds of the city that never truly slept. Beyond the walls, somewhere far across the sands, lay the village where he belonged—where life made sense and duty was clear.

But as he dried himself and prepared for what little remained of the night, he knew with bone-deep certainty that he could no longer imagine a future that didn't include Linnea. Whatever game they'd started, whatever dangers they now faced, they were bound by something that superseded their differences.

He just hoped they would both survive the playing of it.

ChapterSeventeen

"The eastern quarter's water supply issues have been resolved," K’Nar reported, his stylus scratching against parchment as he made notes. "The engineers believe the new reclamation system should prevent further shortages through the dry season."

Linnea nodded, attempting to focus on his words while her mind stubbornly drifted elsewhere. The morning light streamed through the high tower windows, casting long shadows across her office and illuminating the dust motes that danced in the air. Usually, she found comfort in these morning briefings—the orderly recitation of problems solved and tasks completed provided structure to her days as chancellor.

But today, she could barely concentrate on governance when her body still hummed with memories of the night before.

"Chancellor?" K’Nar's voice pulled her reluctantly back to the present. "Did you hear what I said about the artisans' tax petition?"

"Of course," she lied, straightening in her chair. "I think we should approve the extension, given the circumstances."

K’Nar's eyebrows rose slightly. "I was actually recommending that we deny it, considering their third quarter profits."

She bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed at her own distraction. "Yes, that's what I meant. Deny the petition."

Her adjunct studied her with barely concealed curiosity. No doubt he was still puzzling over the scene he'd walked in on last night—the disheveled room, the tension between her and the Dothvek ambassador, the hastily contrived argument.

If he only knew the truth. If he could see the marks Zexx had left on her skin, hidden now beneath her formal robes. If he could read the thoughts that kept intruding on her attempts to govern...

His hands on her waist, strong enough to bruise but gentle in their exploration…

The heat of his mouth against her throat…

The thickness of him inside her, his eyes locked with hers as he stretched her…

She shook her head sharply, banishing the images. This had to stop. Whatever madness had taken hold of her last night could be nothing more than a momentary lapse, a forbidden fling. She was chancellor of the Cresteks, responsible for an entire city and a fragile peace. If her people discovered she was sleeping with the enemy—with a Dothvek warrior, of all things—there would be chaos. The peace was too new for her people to accept their leader with a former enemy. Even if the common people could be convinced to accept it, her more conservative council would not.

Or worse.

"Is there anything else I should know?" she asked K’Nar, forcing herself back to the business of leadership.

"Just one matter," he replied, consulting his notes. "The Dothvek ambassador has requested an audience this morning to discuss his official duties."

Her heart stuttered in her chest. "Has he? When?"

As if summoned by her question, a knock sounded at the door. K’Nar moved to answer it, and she used the brief moment to compose herself, straightening her silver robes and schooling her features into what she hoped was an expression of calm authority.

All her efforts shattered the moment Zexx stepped through the doorway.

He hadn't bothered with a tunic today, his golden chest bare and gleaming in the morning light, his black skin ink on full display. The hard ridges of muscle that she'd traced with her fingers and lips the night before were now exposed for anyone to see, a blatant reminder of his otherness—his Dothvek nature that flaunted Crestek conventions of propriety.

K’Nar's eyes widened comically, his gaze darting between them as if trying to determine the appropriate protocol for a half-naked ambassador.

"Ambassador Zexx," she managed, her voice steadier than she felt. "I wasn't expecting you quite so soon."

"Chancellor," he replied, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "I wished to discuss my duties."