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Chapter Twenty-Three

T he morning light filtered through the high windows of the council chamber and dappled the parchment unrolled over the table. Linnea shifted in her chair, trying to focus on the reports being delivered by the city's water manager, but her mind kept drifting to last night—to strong hands moving over her skin, to whispered promises, to their bodies slick with sweat and tangled in sheets.

It had been four days since the reception, four nights of Zexx slipping into her chambers after dark and leaving before dawn, four mornings of pretending nothing had changed while everything had. She was happier than she'd ever been, and that worried her more than any border dispute or resource shortage.

"The eastern aqueduct repairs are finally complete," the water manager concluded, shuffling his papers. "We should see improved flow to the lower quarters within days, though I still recommend maintaining the current rationing schedule through the end of the month."

She nodded, pulling herself back to the present. "Agreed. The people need to understand that conservation remains essential, even with repairs complete."

K’Nar made a note on his ever-present parchment, the scratch of his stylus a familiar counterpoint to the hum of voices in the chamber. The council table was ringed with the heads of various departments—security, resources, commerce, education—each with their own concerns and priorities. It was her job to balance them all, to see the larger picture, to guide their city toward prosperity and peace.

But how could she effectively serve her people when half her thoughts were occupied with a Dothvek warrior? When her heart raced every time she caught a glimpse of his imposing form and flashing eyes? When she found herself counting the hours until night fell, and they could be alone again?

"The border patrols report increased activity on the eastern dunes," the security chief was saying, his voice cutting through her distraction. "Nothing overtly threatening, but there have been sightings of Dothveks near the trade routes."

She arched an eyebrow. "They are free to traverse the sands as they always have been. The peace accord doesn't restrict their movements or ours if we wish to travel over the sands.”

The security chief shifted uncomfortably, the thought of journeying onto the expanse clearly unthinkable. "Of course, Chancellor. I merely meant to report the movements of our ene—our former enemies.”

She made a mental note to mention this to Zexx. The fact that her first instinct was to consult him rather than escalate their security measures represented a shift in her thinking that would have been unimaginable weeks ago.

“Take no action,” she instructed. “We will not be the ones to break the peace."

As the meeting progressed through the usual litany of city concerns—market regulations, dispute resolutions, tax collections—she found an opportunity to ask the question that had been lingering in her mind.

"What are the citizens saying about our Dothvek diplomat?" She kept her tone casual, as if inquiring about any other diplomatic matter. "Has his presence helped ease tensions at all?"

K’Nar glanced up from his notes. "Quite significantly, according to our sources. The females who attended the reception were quite... taken with him. Word has spread that he is cultured, well-spoken, and a friend to the Cresteks."

"Some were more than taken," remarked the commerce minister with a knowing smirk. "My wife tells me several prominent ladies are already maneuvering to secure private audiences with the ambassador. Diplomatic relations, they call it."

A ripple of laughter moved around the table, and she forced herself to smile along with them, though she felt a sharp twist of jealousy at the thought of those females pursuing Zexx. Their transparent attempts to seduce him at the reception had been bad enough; the idea of them continuing their pursuit in private made her fingers tighten around her stylus until she feared it might snap.

Then she remembered how Zexx had looked at her that night, how he'd ignored their blatant advances, how he'd later whispered against her skin that he wanted no one but her. He had never made her feel anything less than completely desired, completely chosen.

"The ambassador's charm has proven unexpectedly useful," she acknowledged, keeping her voice steady. "But we should ensure that his time is primarily devoted to substantive diplomatic work rather than social calls."

"I've arranged for him to tour the water reclamation facility this afternoon," K’Nar said. "The eastern settlements have expressed interest in adopting similar technology as the barbar—the Dothveks, and his report to the Dothvek leader could facilitate a formal exchange of knowledge."

She nodded, pleased that K’Nar was taking initiative in integrating Zexx into meaningful work. "Excellent. Keep me informed of his progress."

As the meeting wound down and council members began gathering their materials to depart, she found herself struggling to maintain the mask of calm efficiency she'd perfected over years of leadership. Behind it, her thoughts were a tumult of conflicting emotions.

Was it possible to be both a devoted chancellor and a woman in love with a Dothvek? Or would one role inevitably undermine the other?

In love.

The thought surfaced unbidden, startling in its clarity and certainty. When had this happened? How had she allowed herself to fall so completely for a barbarian she could never take as a mate? And what would she do when that barbarian returned to his world, and she was left to hers?