at the loops of rope pinioning his limbs, but he couldn’t break them. Since he was gagged, he couldn’t even hurl insults at her.
He certainly wanted to hurl insults. He was sweating and red faced, his eyes bulging with hatred as he watched her approach.
She broke one of her contact points. A Shard materialized from the Rift, and she caught the tiny bit of obsidian neatly between her fingertips. What had happened to the man’s comrade? There’d been two of them originally, a pair of unwise Kjallans who’d blundered into the enclave’s sentries.
The soldier’s chin jerked—he was trying to spit at her. Ineffective, since he was gagged. Poor man.
Bayard’s voice grew sharp. “Do it, Vitala. No more stalling. You need me to give you some extra motivation?”
She gave Bayard a look of disgust. Then she jabbed the Shard into the soldier’s throat.
• • •
Lucien’s tent was a near replica of his rooms at home, with a sitting room up front, a door that led presumably to a bedroom, and furniture laid out in almost the same configuration. The bookcases and the magicked Caturanga set were missing, as were the wall hangings and the windows that overlooked the palace grounds, but a different Caturanga set sat on a table in the same spot—one of carved agate, similar to the one he’d given her.
Lucien limped across the room. The guards who’d escorted her filtered out of the tent, leaving only Septian, who lurked quietly near the door. She hoped he would stay there and not follow them into the bedroom.
“I’ve been thinking about you all afternoon,” said Lucien.
She smiled. “Weren’t you supposed to be thinking about Tasox?”
“Tasox—what’s that?” He winked, then followed her gaze to the Caturanga set. “Would you like a game?”
Her mouth quirked. “Would you?”
“Gods, no. How about dinner? Are you hungry?” He gestured toward a covered tray that sat on a table.
She hadn’t eaten since midday, but she feared she might throw up if she ate now. She forced a smile. “Actually, I’m feeling rather vulnerable right now. Too much Vagabond influence on the board, and my Principles are under threat.”
He chuckled. “Are they really?”
“And there’s only one answer to that. A bold move.” She went to him.
He braced himself on his crutch to receive her. “You make a decisive strike, indeed,” he murmured, and greedily took her mouth.
A decisive strike—if only he knew! She’d been a bundle of nerves all afternoon, stiff and anxious about the task that lay ahead, but now, in the warmth of Lucien’s embrace, she felt herself relax. Lucien did not close his eyes when he kissed; rather, his dark eyes studied her, calculating. It was a little disconcerting to think that this time he wasn’t analyzing the Caturanga board; he was analyzing
her
. And yet it pleased her to be, at this moment, the center of his universe.
She barely noticed when his tongue entered her mouth. He’d been teasing her with it, and now he took liberties. A delicious tingle ran through her, and she pressed herself closer to him, suddenly wishing the clothes were not a barrier between them—wouldn’t his flesh feel lovely against hers? A soft sound purred from her throat, entirely unbidden. She wanted to devour him. She pushed a little too hard, and he stumbled backward.
She helped catch him.
“Careful,” he chided.
His face was flushed, his eyes liquid with desire. “I’m not too solid upright. Shall we . . . ?” He gestured toward the bedroom door.
She nodded.
“I’d carry you, but . . .” He shrugged.
She giggled, feeling like she’d had too much to drink. Some distant part of her marveled at her absurd behavior. He had stumbled, but she was the one who was off balance. What was it about this man that her body responded to with such enthusiasm?
He’s a tyrant. You hate him.
Her body wasn’t listening.
He led her to the heavy leather tent panel that served as a
He certainly wanted to hurl insults. He was sweating and red faced, his eyes bulging with hatred as he watched her approach.
She broke one of her contact points. A Shard materialized from the Rift, and she caught the tiny bit of obsidian neatly between her fingertips. What had happened to the man’s comrade? There’d been two of them originally, a pair of unwise Kjallans who’d blundered into the enclave’s sentries.
The soldier’s chin jerked—he was trying to spit at her. Ineffective, since he was gagged. Poor man.
Bayard’s voice grew sharp. “Do it, Vitala. No more stalling. You need me to give you some extra motivation?”
She gave Bayard a look of disgust. Then she jabbed the Shard into the soldier’s throat.
• • •
Lucien’s tent was a near replica of his rooms at home, with a sitting room up front, a door that led presumably to a bedroom, and furniture laid out in almost the same configuration. The bookcases and the magicked Caturanga set were missing, as were the wall hangings and the windows that overlooked the palace grounds, but a different Caturanga set sat on a table in the same spot—one of carved agate, similar to the one he’d given her.
Lucien limped across the room. The guards who’d escorted her filtered out of the tent, leaving only Septian, who lurked quietly near the door. She hoped he would stay there and not follow them into the bedroom.
“I’ve been thinking about you all afternoon,” said Lucien.
She smiled. “Weren’t you supposed to be thinking about Tasox?”
“Tasox—what’s that?” He winked, then followed her gaze to the Caturanga set. “Would you like a game?”
Her mouth quirked. “Would you?”
“Gods, no. How about dinner? Are you hungry?” He gestured toward a covered tray that sat on a table.
She hadn’t eaten since midday, but she feared she might throw up if she ate now. She forced a smile. “Actually, I’m feeling rather vulnerable right now. Too much Vagabond influence on the board, and my Principles are under threat.”
He chuckled. “Are they really?”
“And there’s only one answer to that. A bold move.” She went to him.
He braced himself on his crutch to receive her. “You make a decisive strike, indeed,” he murmured, and greedily took her mouth.
A decisive strike—if only he knew! She’d been a bundle of nerves all afternoon, stiff and anxious about the task that lay ahead, but now, in the warmth of Lucien’s embrace, she felt herself relax. Lucien did not close his eyes when he kissed; rather, his dark eyes studied her, calculating. It was a little disconcerting to think that this time he wasn’t analyzing the Caturanga board; he was analyzing
her
. And yet it pleased her to be, at this moment, the center of his universe.
She barely noticed when his tongue entered her mouth. He’d been teasing her with it, and now he took liberties. A delicious tingle ran through her, and she pressed herself closer to him, suddenly wishing the clothes were not a barrier between them—wouldn’t his flesh feel lovely against hers? A soft sound purred from her throat, entirely unbidden. She wanted to devour him. She pushed a little too hard, and he stumbled backward.
She helped catch him.
“Careful,” he chided.
His face was flushed, his eyes liquid with desire. “I’m not too solid upright. Shall we . . . ?” He gestured toward the bedroom door.
She nodded.
“I’d carry you, but . . .” He shrugged.
She giggled, feeling like she’d had too much to drink. Some distant part of her marveled at her absurd behavior. He had stumbled, but she was the one who was off balance. What was it about this man that her body responded to with such enthusiasm?
He’s a tyrant. You hate him.
Her body wasn’t listening.
He led her to the heavy leather tent panel that served as a
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