27. CHAPTER 27
Miya
The Territories
Archai, Caspador
Miya stood at the window with a hotel robe wrapped tightly around her, drinking up a blue sky that stretched on forever. It would be a nice day for a walk outside. That was what she’d told Lance she'd do—shop at the market and stroll through downtown.
He worried whenever she left the house and tried to follow her.
At first, she assured him she wasn’t seeing the captain, even if she was, and when that didn’t work, she stopped talking to him entirely except to make snide remarks.
He was probably at home right now pacing around like he did when he was nervous.
Guilt bubbled beneath the frustration. Yesterday, she called him “the dumbass that wouldn't stop following” her around. Miya didn't want to drag him further into this danger, but insulting him didn't deter him.
Imagine if Lance knew the son of the High General came parading his double fucking seals in the bar. She hadn't sucked in a full breath since seeing them. The Phaedra sent one of the Rivens. They were all doomed.
The captain’s breath hit her cheek and forced her to feel his presence. “If Bale refuses to work with Rafferty, what will you say?” She tried to forget he was there, even as she spoke with him, tried to float off into that brilliant blue sky and never return.
“I won’t let him refuse,” she said.
“Very good.”
His hands were on her, gripping her shoulders, and in those strong fingers she felt the only warning she needed. The threat built in her, ready to burst, until Miya wanted to scream at him to stay away from her.
She sewed her mouth shut with sheer willpower and lulled herself back into her fantasy. The one where the armor she never took off protected her. No matter how many victories she clawed out of the world with her bare hands, she still lived with these fingers on her shoulders.
The captain’s palm worked over the imprint he’d left on her throat, cupping her from behind, trapping her head against his chest. “I'm the only one you need to fear, not Bale or the United.”
“Yes, sir.”
The captain ordered Miya to travel home with Lance and relay a message to Bale.
Join with Ciondo to liberate Caspador from the king or die.
Bale didn't have many resources to offer, and most of those able to fight already joined the Royal Guard, but his villages were woven into every region of the kingdom.
With Rafferty's muscle, they could cause turmoil. The captain would step into the chaos they created to bring order and establish the Phaedra’s total control.
All without other powerful countries in the world complaining about their heavy hand.
The narrative suited the Phaedra, especially considering the entire world waited to see whether Ciondo would be invited to the summit in a few years.
“We'll show the High General's son we don't need him here,” Miya said.
The captain released her, and she shuddered in a breath. “That twat. He's so full of himself. Some of us have to work for what we have. We aren't born into it.”
“Exactly.” Funny, coming from Christopher. He'd definitely been born into all he had. “The Phaedra will see what you're accomplishing here. He'll realize you're the one he should have given double seals to.”
His mouth clamped over her neck, sucking a bruise, hands clutching her sides. “You'll make me late talking about that.”
Too easy. “I don't see what's so special about him. He's so uptight.”
“That's why I'm going to give his brother a call. I need to make sure little Riven isn't here getting in my way.”
Little Riven. Miya giggled at the name, assuming he thought he sounded clever and not like a jealous child.
“I wish I could skip this meeting.” He groaned against her ear. Breathed in her hair. “You're staying the night. Make yourself at home until I'm back.”
She couldn't wait to humiliate him for the entire empire to see.
Staying overnight wasn't in the plan, though. Lance would search for her if she didn’t return tonight. She'd send a message back to Krowe's estate, but she still felt his worry.
“Wear the dress I bought you,” the captain said. “We're going out for dinner.”
The backless gown hung off the closet door beside a small table with the flowers and chocolates he’d bought her. He’d strewn more gifts around the room, even jewelry she found on the pillow.
Oh, how she would love to shove it all down his throat.
Flipping her around to face him, he eased his lips against hers, and she made herself kiss him back. His hands shifted from gentle to violent in only a second, without apology or excuse.
He spoke against her temple. “Things can be this way all the time.”
The implicit threat strangled her just like his hands, so she smiled, unable to speak while he kissed her again and slid his greedy hands all over her. Every touch let her in deeper, though he thought it was the opposite. He'd soon become comfortable in his control of her, vulnerable to her attack.
Once he finally left, Miya called to report her absence to the Krowe estate and pivoted for the bed, exhausted from all the stress. But a figure caught the corner of her eye, and she looked across the room, expecting it to be her imagination, only to see Zayne Riven staring back at her.
Miya screamed and jumped backward so hard she knocked her head against the wall.
“I'm not here to hurt you. I promise.” Zayne lifted his arms, showing her his empty hands, but he looked more threatening like that, with two seals—two—raised up to her. The snakes creeping beneath his collarbone flexed from the motion, running along chiseled muscle.
Why did her life get shittier every hour of the day?
“Then what are you here for?” She inched toward the nightstand to chuck the heavy lamp at him if necessary.
“I need to talk,” he said.
What was her strategy here? Not every person made for a good mark. Last night, Miya toyed with him enough to see that he was a poor target to manipulate. He recognized the threat in her immediately. Guarded against her.
A deep scar cut beneath his black band, absent of any gold or glory.
Miya noticed the faint scarring along his wrists—probably from restraints as a prisoner of war.
The Rivens didn't evade combat like other elite families.
They were as battle-hardened and lethal as they were politically powerful. And war was etched into Zayne's body.
This was not Captain Garrison.
Not at all.
And if that didn't kill her, it could be the key. Zayne kept his emotions closely guarded, but Miya saw his jaw flex at the sight of her neck last night. He didn't approve of Christopher's behavior. Whether he was sympathetic or just found it uncivilized, that gave Miya a place to start with him.
“You promise that's all?” She saw how he reacted to her calmness last night, so what about her fear? Would it affect him?
“I promise.” He lowered his arms. “No one knows I'm here, and we both need it to stay that way. But what I say might panic you.”
Zayne Riven telling her she may panic made her fucking panic. Her pulse throbbed in her temples. “I'll stay calm.”
“Don't run either. The hall's clear, but you saw the increased security.”
“I'm stuck here alone with you.” She didn't hide the tremble in her voice. “I get it.”
A pause, and then Zayne sighed. “I'll give you my gun. Aim here.” He tapped the center of his chest. “I'm reaching for it, but not to hurt you.”
From the moment his fingertips made contact with his weapon, Miya tracked his hand and his every move.
Aiming away from her, he withdrew a silencer from his pocket and attached it.
Then, holding the handle of the gun with two fingers, he placed it on the bed.
Hands raised again, he backed to the far side of the room.
Miya pounced on the weapon and positioned herself closer to the door. Was this a trick?
“You know how to handle that?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“Then take your insurance. Safety off and aim at the center of my chest.”
She stared at him with the gun ready to fire, pointed exactly where he said. “Why are you letting me do this?”
“Because this is the only way you'll feel safe.”
“You aren't worried I'll panic and shoot you?”
Light blue eyes held her gaze. “It's a concern. You control yourself well though.”
Her finger eased away from the trigger. The Phaedra was known for his complicated and terrifyingly effective mind games.
The entire empire feared espionage campaigns and ruthless intelligence operatives.
Miya didn't know what kind of tactics Zayne used on her, but she wasn't handing over her trust to him, not even when she wielded the weapon.
“Go on then.” Her skin had turned clammy. “I won't shoot you.”
“I have not and will not tell anyone this.” His look fell to the weapon and then rose to her eyes. “I know you're her royal highness, Oliviana Moress.”
Miya choked on her own breath, her robe suffocating her.
One step backward. Two.
Wincing, Zayne shifted his hands further from his body. “No one knows.”
Shivers crashed down her spine again and again, and she couldn't breathe.
Couldn't.
Not a single breath.
She dipped forward, body curling in on itself. A vain attempt at protecting against the unprotectable.
What did she do now?
No breath.
The captain's fingers crushed her windpipe again.
“Fuck,” Zayne said. “Miya.”
Oh, she felt dizzy.
No breath.
Dying. Miya was dying.
It was so much worse than someone discovering her and forcing her back to the palace, to bury her alive beneath all her father's lies.
The Phaedra knew. This was the worst-case scenario, finally happening.
How long before Zayne dragged her to Ciondo and threw her at the feet of their cruel emperor?
Her father marked her long before any man, destined her to her mother's fate.
A bargaining chip, his escape, a line on a treaty, anything he needed.
Miya just wanted to escape him. She accepted the rest, all this shit, to never return, and now came the day she so long loathed.