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"They weren't hypothetical," Zexx cut in. "And there's more. They suspect there's something between us. They spoke of using it against you if they could prove it."

A cold fear gripped her heart, but it quickly transformed into something else—anger. Not at her advisors, but at the messenger who was suddenly threatening everything she'd built.

“What do you advise? Should I stop trusting my councilors? Should I ignore decades of their service? Should I take your word over theirs?”

Zexx's eyes widened. "You think I'm lying to you?"

"I think perhaps you misheard or misunderstood." The words poured out of her, fueled by fear she couldn't acknowledge. "Or maybe you're trying to drive a wedge between me and my advisors. Isn't that what a good Dothvek would do?"

The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. But some wounded, frightened part of her couldn't stop.

"After all, should I really trust someone who just weeks ago considered my people the enemy?" Her voice rose. “You never wanted to come here. You never wanted to leave the sands. You admit that, and you’ve admitted being angry with me for summoning you. Maybe this is your way of sabotaging me from within."

Zexx's face transformed, hurt flashing across his features before a cold mask slipped into place. "Is that what you believe?"

"I don't know what to believe," she said, turning away from him, unable to bear the pain in his eyes. "But I know these Cresteks. I've worked with them for years."

"And you have only known me a fraction of that time,” he growled, his accent thickening with anger. “Is that what you’re saying? You don’t know my heart? You don’t feel our connection?”

“Do you expect me to trust some Dothvek powers I don’t even understand or fully believe over my own advisors?”

“I expect you to trust me,” he said through gritted teeth. “I have done nothing but try to protect you.”

"I don't need your protection!" she snapped, whirling back to face him. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. "I am the chancellor of the Cresteks. I managed before you arrived, and I'll manage long after you've gone. And don't forget, Ambassador, that in this city, I am your superior."

A terrible stillness came over him. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, controlled, and somehow more devastating than any shout could have been.

"Thank you for reminding me of my place, Chancellor," he said formally, inclining his head in a curt bow. "I won't forget it again."

He turned and strode toward the door, his back rigid with anger. Part of her screamed to call him back, to apologize, to admit that her outburst came from fear—fear that he might be right, fear of what that would mean.

But pride and panic held her tongue, and she watched him go, the door closing behind him with a terrible finality.

Only when she was alone did she allow the tears to come, hot and bitter. She sank into her chair, her body trembling with sobs she couldn't contain.

What had she done? Pushed away the one person who had seen her—truly seen her—not as the chancellor but as Linnea? Accused him of treachery when everything within her knew he spoke the truth?

She despised herself in that moment, for her weakness, for her cruelty. Because deep down, she knew Zexx wasn't lying. She had seen the looks Vellen gave her when he thought she wasn't watching, heard the whispers that stopped when she entered rooms. She had known, and she had ignored it because the truth was too painful to face.

And now she had lost the only person whose heart she’d truly known.

ChapterTwenty-Six

Zexx stormed from Linnea's office, the door slamming behind him with a satisfying thud that echoed through the stone corridor. His breath came in sharp bursts, his hands clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles went white. How could she not believe him? How could she ignore what she felt?

Should I really trust someone who just weeks ago considered my people the enemy?

Her words cut deeper than any blade, precisely because they contained a kernel of truth. He had arrived in the Crestek city viewing her people as enemies. But he had changed—forher,becauseof her.

Rage and hurt battled within him, the emotions so overwhelming that they clouded their connection. He could still sense her, a turbulent storm of feelings that mirrored his own, but the subtleties were lost beneath the roar of his anger. Was she regretting her words? Was she still convinced he was trying to manipulate her? He couldn't tell, and at that moment, he didn't care.

He descended the spiraling ramp, each step heavy with resentment. Crestek attendants flattened themselves against the walls as he passed, their eyes wide with alarm or curiosity. Let them stare. Let them whisper about the angry Dothvek in their midst. He was tired of pretending to be something he wasn't—a polished, civilized diplomat when every instinct in his body screamed for action.

The confined space of the tower suddenly felt suffocating. Since his arrival, he'd spent almost every moment within these stone walls, venturing out only for carefully orchestrated appearances or quick visits to the market. He needed air—real air, not the stale, perfumed atmosphere of the chancellor's residence or even his own quarters.

He didn't care if there was danger lurking in the Crestek city. He didn't care if protestors still harbored resentment toward Dothveks. He needed to escape, if only for an hour.

His pace quickened as he reached the lower levels of the tower. Guards stationed at the massive entry doors straightened as he approached, uncertainty flashing across their faces. Was the ambassador allowed to leave unescorted? Should they stop him? But something in his expression must have warned them against interference, as they merely inclined their heads and pulled the heavy doors open.