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“You all right there?” Killian asks as I hug myself at the waist, trying to keep the shivering in check.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just…” The words fade as another thought hits me.

Is that what this is about?

Did Arthur only pretend to need Braxton so Killian could bring me here and learn just how far he can trust me?

It must be, I decide. Because how else would Killian know that Braxton was away?

I study Killian’s face, trying to glean something beyond the golden-boy mask. But Killian has been playing this part for so long, the only way to peer beneath the facade is with his permission—and right now, he’s denying me access.

Though one thing is sure: Arthur isn’t just tracking me. He knows everything about me.

Which means if I want to get my hands on that book, I’m going to have to find a way to slip under his radar—and Killian’s, too.

After way too long a pause, I return to his question. “I can’t imagine having that sort of power, nor would I want to. Though you definitely come across as Arthur’s number one fan. Well, next to Elodie, that is.” I try to laugh, but it’s such a miserable attempt, I quickly move on. “And yet, considering how he left you stranded, letting four years slip by before he finally got around to sending someone to find you, your loyalty strikes me as strange.”

Because my gaze is locked on Killian’s, I’m able to track the swift play of shadow that cuts across his eyes. Like a sky between seasons, I follow the shift from darkness to light before it settles into some murkier place.

“For the record,” he says, his voice strained, “Arthur didn’t leave me stranded. And I apologize if I didn’t make myself clear the last time I told you. Or perhaps I did, but you chose not to listen. Either way, allow me to state now and for the record that the person responsible for ditching me in France isn’t Arthur. It’s Braxton.”

14

It’s not like I didn’t hear him the last time Killian accused Braxton of leaving him stranded. I just don’t believe him, and nothing he can say will change my mind.

Mainly because I know in my heart that Braxton would never do something like that. Unless he had a very good reason—and probably not even then.

An awkward pause passes between us, like two stop-motion figures waiting for an animator to put us into play.

“I trust that you heard me,” Killian finally says. His eyes search my face, looking for signs of allegiance or betrayal, as though there’s no possible place in between.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” I cross my legs, shifting uneasily.

Killian shakes his head, tips his seat back on two legs. “I was hoping you might reconsider.”

“Reconsider my relationship with Braxton?” I study him closely, trying to get a read, but Killian is as impenetrable as ever.

Killian rubs his lips together, swipes a hand through his hair. It’s not the first time he’s made those moves in that order, and I’m wondering if it might be some kind of tell.

I need to pay closer attention. Need to keep track of things like that.

“Look,” he says, swinging his chair forward again. “I didn’t set out to make you uncomfortable. But Shiv, I was in that cell with you. I saw the aftermath of all you went through. And I know firsthand just how tough, strong, determined, and gobsmackingly fierce you really are, and—”

His impassioned praise catches me off guard, and I really wish he’d just stop speaking already because I’m more than ready to go.

“—and even though you clearly don’t need it, and certainly don’t want it,” he goes on, “I can’t help feeling protective of you.”

“So, you’re offering your services as a bodyguard?” I cringe when I hear it. A dumb attempt at a joke that I regret the second it’s out.

“No, Shiv,” Killian says. “That’s not at all what I’m offering.”

He leans closer, nearly halfway across the table now. And his eyes are like twin blue flames, centered directly on me.

“Shiv,” he starts. “I—”

Before he can say anything more, I hold up a hand, warding him off. Whatever he’s about to say, I don’t want to hear. The scorch of his gaze is so explosive, I need to get out of this place or risk getting burned.

I shouldn’t have come here.