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Chapter Twenty-Five

T he 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—"

"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.