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Rhyn lengthened his stride, trying to catch up with Ela.

“Hold up, general. Vannla’s Sword, why must you walk everywhere as if it’s a race?”

Ela slowed her pace fractionally.

“This is how normal people walk, though it’s probably a challenge for portly nobles.”

“Portly?”

Rhyn looked down at himself. His silk shirt was open to the waist, showing off his taut pecs to admirable effect. “I don’t think so.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“I’m busy. Baelon’s back at the palace and he’s asking about the Chennai Accords. Where and when they’ll be signed.”

“Zift. You think he’s planning another attack?”

“Maybe. But he won’t find it so easy this time.”

The general smiled grimly and Rhyn quirked a brow.

“You’ve come up with a plan, haven’t you? Spill.”

“The fewer people who know, the better.”

“Oh come on, general. I have a right to know if there’s a chance I might get blown up.”

“Relax, Lord Davorrian. I’ll make sure you’re perfectly safe. Nothing will harm a hair of your noble head.”

Rhyn stepped in front of her, forcing her to halt.

“Does that mean you’re worried about me, general?”

“Not at all. I just don’t want the hassle of having to scrape your dankar brains off the floor.”

He laughed.

“Why are you always so rude to me?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps because you make it so easy?”

“I am a Lord of the Vraxian Empire, you know,”

he said easily. “I’m entitled to a certain amount of respect.”

Ela’s jaw tightened. He was correct, of course. He was high-born and she was a soldier. But it was irksome.

She had responsibilities and duties, and he… well, he also had duties. And if she was being really honest, he was good in his role. But did he always have to act as if life was one big joke?

“Respect has to be earned,”

she said shortly.

“Ah, no. That’s not how nobility works. It’s just handed to us on a plate, you see. Annoying, isn’t it?”

He was laughing at her. Her lip curled and she stood to attention.

“I apologize, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”

Rhyn grinned.

“Very funny. At ease, soldier.”

“At ease, sir. Waiting for your orders, sir.”

“Hm. Orders, you say?”

He cocked his head thoughtfully. “That’s never occurred to me before. I’m within my rights to give you orders, aren’t I?”

Drek.

“Technically I answer to the Zhaal,”

she said hurriedly. “He’s my Commander in Chief so…”

“Technically you answer to the shintu clans. Of which clan Davorrian is one. Isn’t that right, general?”

He watched in amusement as she tried to find a way out and failed.

“Fine. What are your orders, sir?”

She managed to make the question sound like a threat.

“I want you to attend the Garana Sana banquet with me.”

Of all the things he could have said, this was the least expected. She blinked.

“Sorry?”

“The banquet, general. I want us to go together.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I want you to come with me as my date.”

“As… as a couple?”

“That’s generally how dates work, yes. As a couple.”

“But… why?”

“Fountain of Zandarr, do I need to spell it out?”

He took a breath, his slight smile belying his inner tension. “I like you. And I thought you liked me.”

“Why? Because we danced together at the Zhaal’s wedding? One dance doesn’t make me your next conquest.”

“We didn’t just dance together, Ela.”

His face became serious. “You turned to me for comfort after the explosion. I thought that meant something.”

“I embraced you because I was worried about Vahn,”

she said scornfully. “It was a moment of weakness, nothing more.”

“Nevertheless,”

he said stubbornly. “I want to get to know you better. I want to spend time with you. Come with me to the banquet.”

A thousand thoughts spilled through Ela’s mind. But all were tainted by her absolute certainty that he wasn’t looking for anything serious. Not him. And she refused to be his plaything.

“It’s a very amusing notion, Lord Davorrian,”

she said coldly. “I’m sure your noble friends would get a kick out of seeing you seduce the head of the army.”

“That’s not what I…”

“But I can’t attend the Garana Sana as a guest because unlike you, I have a job to do. I have to run security for the Zhaal and Zhaalini. Their safety depends on me. And that outweighs any spurious orders from you.”

“Vannla’s Sword, Ela, why are you always so intractable?”

“Because I’m not like all those females who swoon into your arms. I know very well what you look for in a mate, Lord Davorrian. And it isn’t me.”

Rhyn watched her stride away, her warrior’s braid twitching like the tail of an irritated cat.

Drek’aa beresh, he thought ruefully. I’m in trouble.