Page 73 of Heir of Illusion

“You heard the question.” I roll my eyes. “And while we’re on the topic, how did you know she wasn’t real the night we met?”

The mystery has been bothering me from the beginning.

“She’s a convincing illusion,” he says hesitantly. “And I’m sure she’d probably fool most people, but there was something about her eyes that gave it away. They were vacant. No thoughts behind them.” He glances back at me. “Not like yours at all.”

Heat flames my cheeks again as I cross my arms over my chest. “They’re the exact same color.”

“No,” he insists, prowling closer as his gaze holds mine with shocking intensity. “Yours are far more captivating. Full of mischief and secrets. And there are times when the amber almost seems to burn…” He trails off before clearing his throat. “Anyway, I don’t think I could ever mistake her for you.”

Shock barrels through me.Captivating?

Thorne rolls his eyes. “Don’t play coy now. You must be aware of how you look.”

My mouth drops open as his meaning sets in. I suddenly recall the way he gaped at me when I revealed myself that first night. Was that truly because he found me attractive? It’s not that I believe I’m hideous; I know that’s not the case. But after everything with Baylor, niggling doubts and insecurities have wiggled their way into my mind.

Despite the embarrassment warming my body, I can’t stop the shy smile that curves my lips. No one has ever spoken about me this way, not even Baylor. His compliments have never extended past the obligatory “you look nice this evening.” And the only time he ever examines my eyes closely is when he’s trying to spot a lie. The idea of him being captivated by any part of me laughable.

A wicked gleam enters Thorne’s gaze as he watches me process his words. I take a few steps back, positioning theeidolonbetween us, which only amuses him more.

“She’s a fine illusion,” he concedes. “But I prefer the original over the imitation.”

My heart skips several beats inside my chest. As humiliating as it is to admit, I’m fairly certain that statement will haunt my mind for the rest of my days.

“Anyway, does she have a name?” he asks, as if he hasn’t just fried all of the pathways in my brain.

I shake my head, unable to form words yet.

“Then how do you refer to her?”

“As myeidolon,” I say obviously.

He raises a brow, clearly unsatisfied with my answer.

“I don’t know if I want to give her a name,” I admit softly, dropping my gaze to the mats as I try to put my complicated emotions into words. “She may be able to pretend, but she’s not a person. Not really.”

Thoughts of last night push against my mind. Giving her a name would make it much harder to send her in my place next time Baylor calls.

“She’s not real, but she is an extension of you,” Thorne reminds me.

A small voice in the back of my mind whispers that he’s right. But I’ve never thought of her that way. I don’t know if I could. It would force me to acknowledge things I’m not ready to face.

“You should call her something that’s symbolic of that connection.” He pauses, considering for a moment. “What’s your middle name?”

“Rose,” I say softly.

In an instant, the easy atmosphere between us dissolves. The temperature in the room plummets as shadows creep over the walls and windows, leaving us in near darkness.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, searching for the source of this change.

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw as he takes a few steps back from me.

“Call her that then,” he says, his tone icy.

My mind races, trying to follow the stark shift in his mood. What just happened? Was it the name that bothered him so much?Rose?My attention catches on his covered wrist, remembering the burning rose tattoo hidden beneath his gloves. The one every member of Killian’s council bears. Death’s sigil inked into their skin like a permanent brand. Does he not appreciate the reminder?

Before I have time to ponder this change in our conversation, Warrick rushes into the training room. He goes rigid when he notices I’m not alone, his hand moving to the sword at his side.

“The ambassador isn’t a threat,” I say impatiently. “What’s going on?”

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