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The hint of desire that colored her words sent heat coursing through him, momentarily distracting him from the gravity of the situation. When he looked up, the security advisor was watching them closely, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“And the protest?” K’Nar asked with a sharply cleared throat to draw attention back to him.

Linnea drew in a long breath. “Let it die out. Detain no one. Ignore it.”

The council member opened his mouth then pressed it together in a thin line as Linnea continued.

“We will steal attention from the protest by announcing a welcome reception for the new ambassador—tonight.”

“Tonight?” K’Nar spluttered.

Linnea smiled, clearly warming to the idea. “On the rooftop for the Crestek elite. First, we get the elite to approve, then the rest of the citizens will follow.” She turned to him, her expression professional though her eyes held warmth only he could see. "Ambassador, I believe there are some more... appropriate garments in your quarters that might suit the occasion."

He inclined his head, hiding his smile. "As you wish, Chancellor."

As the others hurried to carry out her commands, she studied his face, concern evident in the line between her brows. "Why do I feel like you can read my thoughts?" she asked suddenly.

The question caught him off guard. He hesitated, uncertain how to explain when he wasn’t sure what was happening.

"Perhaps because we understand each other better than either of us expected," he offered instead, the partial truth easier than the full revelation.

She seemed to accept this, nodding slowly. "Be careful tonight, Zexx. The Crestek elite can be both welcoming and terrifying.”

He captured her hand briefly, squeezing it before releasing it. "I have faced Dothvek warriors in thetahaduand survived. I think I can handle a few fancy Cresteks."

"Don't underestimate them," she warned. “Especially the females.”

As he left her office to prepare for the reception, her concern lingered with him, a warmth in his mind that both comforted and unsettled him. If Linnea truly was his mind mate—impossible as that seemed—then their fates were bound more tightly than either of them had imagined.

But for now, he had a more immediate challenge: convincing the most elite Cresteks that he was not the monster they believed him to be.

And somehow, he needed to do it while wearing layers of their scratchy garments.

ChapterNineteen

Linnea stood before the polished metal mirror in her chambers, applying the final touches to her appearance for the evening's reception. The fabric tent and cushions were gone, replaced once more by the austere stone walls and rigid furnishings expected of the chancellor's private quarters. She missed the warmth of the draped fabric, the gentle jingling of tiny bells, the fluffy furs beneath her feet—but she knew she couldn't keep such obvious reminders of the Dothvek culture on display. Not when so much depended on maintaining appearances.

Her fingers moved through her dark hair, arranging the loose curls that cascaded down her back. It was a more sensual style than she typically wore in public, where her hair was usually pinned severely away from her face. Tonight was different. Tonight was about appearing approachable to the Crestek elite. Seducing them into backing her, so to speak.

She was convinced that the dissent bubbling at the edges of their city was fueled not by the common people but by the ruling class who resented her power. The noble families had never expected a female chancellor, especially not the sister of the disgraced Riz. If she and Zexx could charm them, they would be less inclined to incite grassroots rebellions against the peace accord, and then she could work on winning the support of the masses through more practical measures.

Her gown for the evening epitomized the paradox of Crestek society—the rigid formality displayed in public contrasted with the sensuality celebrated behind closed doors. The fabric was nearly transparent, clinging to her curves like water, with her breasts pushed up by the snug bodice and her legs revealed beneath diaphanous layers that shifted with her every movement. It was typical attire for Crestek females at private gatherings, though it would be hidden beneath voluminous cloaks when moving through public spaces.

Their society had developed behind stone walls and thus its people had developed a similar approach to fashion. No one would dare appear in public without being fully cloaked, the color indicating their status. But beneath the cloaks, females wore revealing dresses. They made strategic matches but openly took many lovers. It was one of the many layers of hypocrisy that Linnea disliked about her people.

A knock at her door interrupted her preparations. "Enter," she called, assuming it was K’Nar coming to give her a final report about the attendees.

When the door opened, her breath caught. Zexx stood in the doorway, transformed by formal Crestek attire. How was it possible he looked even more dangerous in clothing befitting a scribe? Slate blue pants hugged his powerful legs, a cream-colored tunic fell below his waist, and a sleeveless black cloak with gilded detailing draped elegantly over his broad shoulders.

Despite the outfit, there was something untamable about him—a primal energy that no amount of Crestek finery could disguise. The contrast between his civilized appearance and the wild intensity in his eyes made her pulse quicken.

"Chancellor," he said formally, though his gaze traveled over her with such heat that the title seemed absurd.

"Ambassador," she replied, equally formal despite the flush rising to her cheeks.

He closed the door behind him, crossing the room in three long strides. "Is this what Crestek females wear to parties?" he asked, his voice dropping low as he circled her slowly.

She turned with him, meeting his gaze boldly. "It is. Particularly among the elite."