CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
My breath catches. All of him surrounds all of me, trapping me in a cage of flesh and fury. My heartbeat is frantic, as though trying to flee from my chest and the threat of his skin.
I say nothing and don’t move.
Kaidren’s glare is unwavering in its intensity.
“Your scent isn’t just rosemary,” he murmurs.
His eyes remain harsh, but his tone has softened.
“It’s rosemary and dust and a faint hint of lemon.
If you truly don’t use perfume, then it must be your soap, because I can smell it on you, even now.
You want evidence I can present to the decurio?
I have none. But I don’t need proof, because I see you. More clearly now than before.”
He’s certainly looking at me as though he sees me.
Deep brown eyes bore into mine, and my stomach inexplicably clenches in an unfamiliar emotion that isn’t fear.
This close, there’s no escaping him. As much as it puts me on edge, there’s something mesmerizing about Kaidren when his veil of civility falls away.
When he reveals the dark, desperate boy lurking under the surface.
He drags his heated stare over my face, until it rests on my lips.
The gap between us crackles like a bonfire, and I find myself intensely aware of every pinprick of distance.
With a twitch, I would feel his skin on mine—and hand him the power to burn me.
Terrifying. Enticing. I never realized how closely intertwined the two are.
My ungloved hands creep up. Palms settle on his chest. His breath catches.
I shove him, hard as I can.
My mind is clouded from his proximity, but as he stumbles back, it clears. “You see nothing.”
He’s still only a pace away and eyeing me hungrily, as though he means to approach again.
I push from the window and duck under his arm. I won’t allow him another chance to corner me.
He turns with me, stalking my movements across the room. “You deny it?”
“Obviously.” I roll my eyes to hide how I’m still struggling to catch my breath. “You have nothing but baseless accusations, and you are far out of your depth. You came to Widow’s Hall thirsting for power. You assumed a few simple tricks were all it would take to steal it, but you were wrong.”
“Of the two of us, I’m not the one who has to steal power, Remira. I’m the son of an Honorate. The only thief here is you.”
“Better a thief than a fraud.” I’m near the table, facing him, back to the rest of the library, heart thudding so loud it hurts.
“You claimed to be an isha to gain favor with the Republic. You claimed you came here to rid the Honorate of corruption. All the while, you’re no better than the rest of them. ”
“I’m nothing like them.”
“You know what, I think you truly believe that,” I say. “As always, you’re wrong. You want the throne because you want power—not because you care to improve the Republic.”
His nostrils flare. “You have no idea what I want.”
“Don’t I?” I raise a challenging eyebrow. “How can you claim to me of all people that you’re not a liar? You tried to manipulate me. You faked kindness and friendship so you could coax me into betraying my own brother.”
“What do you care? You were pretending too.”
“Maybe. But I knew I was conning a conman. You had no idea I was faking anything. Tell me, Bastard Vale, what does that say about you?”
“That you clouded my judgment.”
“What?” I smirk. “This sweet little Opheran girl?”
“There’s nothing sweet about you.” He spits out the word. “I didn’t know you before, but I know exactly what kind of girl I’m dealing with now. Conniving, vindictive, and cruel.”
I laugh mockingly. “You make those sound like insults. I’d rather be vindictive than an easy target. Since we’re being honest, let me confess that pretending to be your friend was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Now I’m finally free to tell you how much I despise you.”
“The feeling is mutual.” He chuckles darkly. “I can’t believe I actually felt bad for toying with you. It seemed heartless to manipulate someone so . . .” He glances at my wrist, where the edge of my sun tattoo peeks out from under my sleeve. He stops himself. “Forget it.”
I glare, guessing what he doesn’t say. “Go ahead. What did you think of me? Did you think I was pitiable? A gullible fool?”
Kaidren meets my glare head-on. “Gullible, maybe. But more than that, I thought you were exquisite.”
I flinch. It’s not the word I was expecting. Worse, I’m ice-cold—he means it. He’s done nothing but try to manipulate me since we met. He pretended to like me, pretended he was drawn to me, and apparently, it wasn’t all fake.
The confession stirs something in me. I’m ashamed to admit it, but part of me liked the way his gaze used to linger.
Liked watching his eyes stare into mine and soften into something bordering on affection.
At the time, I assumed it was for show, but knowing a small part of that was real . . . My stomach flutters weakly.
But then I remember the way he called me “the help” and ordered me to fetch him water. The way he fed me lies about using his newfound position to better Ophera.
I smother that foolish, needy feeling. Kaidren only thought he had feelings for me because I pretended to fall for his nonexistent charm. A girl who is easily manipulated can be exquisite. A girl who does the manipulating . . . not so much.
I scowl. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Pass a message along to your brother for me: I’m calling for Eteria. I’m no fraud, and I’m going to prove to the world that I’m exactly who I say I am.”
It takes everything in me not to smirk. “Planning on cheating?”
“I believe cheating is your skill set, Remira.” His expression darkens. “It’s a shame. I felt guilty for manipulating the girl I thought you were. I will revel in destroying the girl I know you to be.”
My hand curls into a fist. Once again, he’s underestimating me. I might fight best from the shadows, unseen and unheard, but I’m more than prepared to battle Kaidren Vale out in the light where he can see me. “Careful. That almost sounded like a threat.”
“It was. Before, I declared war on your brother. Clearly, I threatened the wrong Kyler. Something you should know about me, Remira: I never make the same mistake twice.”