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"If there is," Vellen replied, "it would be the perfect weapon against her. Even those who support her would turn if they knew she was bedding the enemy."

“Especially all the high-born females who want to bed him themselves.” A crude, rasping laugh. “They would rip her to pieces without us lifting a finger.”

Every muscle in his body tensed, primal rage surging through him. He wanted nothing more than to step from his hiding place and confront these traitors, to make them answer for their treachery with Dothvek justice. His fingers curled into fists so tight he felt his nails cutting into his palms.

But attacking them would only confirm their beliefs about his people being savage and violent. It would play directly into their hands, giving them precisely the ammunition they needed against both him and Linnea.

He remained frozen in the shadows as their footsteps moved away, continuing up the ramp and eventually fading from hearing. Only then did he release his breath, a wave of nausea washing over him as their words echoed in his mind.

They were deliberately sabotaging the peace, paying for protests, planning to use them to force Linnea into heavy-handed action that would turn her people against her. And worse—they suspected their relationship and planned to use it as a weapon.

He stepped out from the alcove, his body feeling strangely disconnected as he continued toward the council chamber. The stone walls that had begun to feel almost familiar now seemed threatening again, closing in around him like a trap. How many other Cresteks in positions of power harbored the same hatred? How many others plotted against their own chancellor? Who else was in on the plan?

The chamber door was partially open when he reached it, voices drifting out as the last council members departed. He waited until they had passed, nodding mechanically in response to their respectful acknowledgments, before slipping inside.

Linnea sat at the head of the long table, sunlight sifting through the high windows and turning her dark hair to silk shot with gold. She was reviewing documents, her brow furrowed in concentration, and for a moment he simply watched her—this woman who carried the weight of an entire city on her shoulders while traitors whispered in her shadow.

When she finally looked up and saw him, her face transformed, lighting with a smile that made his chest ache. How could he tell her that her own advisors were conspiring against her? That he was being eyed as a potential weapon against her?

"Ambassador," she said, the formal title at odds with the warmth in her eyes. "Is something the matter?"

He crossed to her, placing his palms on the cool surface of the table and leaning forward. "Linnea," he began, his voice rougher than he intended. "There's something you need to know."

ChapterTwenty-Five

The council chamber had nearly emptied when she heard the door open again. She looked up, expecting K’Nar returning with some forgotten detail, but instead saw Zexx standing just inside the doorway.

Her heart leapt at the sight of him, tall and powerful even in the formal Crestek clothing he'd taken to wearing during daylight hours. The dark blue tunic suited him, the color emphasizing the gold of his skin and the warmth of his eyes. His hair was pulled back from his face, revealing the strong lines of his jaw and cheekbones.

But as their eyes met, a chill ran through her. His expression was solemn, his shoulders tense. Something was wrong—she could sense it as clearly as if he had spoken it aloud, this strange connection between them growing stronger with each passing day.

The last of the council members brushed past him with a respectful nod, leaving them alone in the chamber. Zexx closed the door behind them, his movements deliberate, almost reluctant.

"Ambassador," she said, the formal title falling from her lips automatically though they had been anything but formal with each other in the sanctuary of her chambers. "Is something the matter?"

He crossed the room slowly, his usual fluid grace muted by whatever burden he carried. When he reached the council table, he placed his palms flat on its polished surface, leaning forward slightly as if bracing himself.

"Linnea," he began, his voice low and rough with emotion, "there's something you need to know."

She was suddenly cold, as if standing in the shadow of something vast and terrible approaching on the horizon.

Her expression shifted, concern replacing pleasure as she sensed his distress. That connection between them—the one that defied explanation, that shouldn't be possible between a Dothvek and a Crestek—flowed strong and clear, carrying his turmoil to her even before he could put it into words.

"Tell me," she said simply, setting aside her documents and giving him her full attention.

She watched as he struggled to find the words.

"Your security advisor, Vellen, and Minister Taal," Zexx said finally, the words coming out rough and strained. "I overheard them on the ramp. They're not your allies, Linnea."

She kept her face composed, though she felt a sharp flash of alarm course through her. "What are you talking about?"

"They're paying for the protests," he said bluntly. "Creating dissent deliberately to force you into harsh action that will turn the people against you. They want you removed from power."

She stared at him, disbelief rising within her. "That's impossible. Vellen has served the chancellorship for fifteen years. Taal was my father's closest advisor."

"I know what I heard," Zexx insisted, his jaw tightening. "They were discussing it. They're planning to escalate the protests to force your hand."

"Perhaps you misunderstood," she said, rising from her chair. "Political discussions can sound conspiratorial to outsiders. Maybe they were discussing hypothetical scenarios, contingency planning—"