Page 35 of Savage Crown

She doesn’t speak right away.

Good. She’s learning.

I take another slow sip of my drink before finally turning to face her.

She’s dressed in the same tunic she wore earlier, the fabric loose where the bandages wrap around her ribs. A reminder of what I let happen. What I sent her into.

Her hair is still slightly damp, as if she had tried to wash away the blood, but there’s a stiffness in her stance, a wariness she hasn’t shaken.

She shouldn’t be here.

And yet, she is.

I lean back against the desk, tilting my head slightly. "Couldn’t sleep?"

She exhales sharply, stepping further inside. "Didn’t try."

Liar.

Her eyes flick toward the fire, narrowing slightly. "What was that?"

I lift a brow. "What was what?"

"The parchment," she presses. "The one you burned."

I smirk. Clever girl.

"It wasn’t important."

Her arms cross over her chest, and I shouldn’t be amused by how unimpressed she looks.

"You only burn things when they are important."

I chuckle, swirling the last of my wine. "And you only ask questions when you already know the answer."

Her gaze sharpens.

She doesn’t move, but I feel the shift in her, the quiet realization that whatever I destroyed wasn’t just a message.

It was a threat.

She doesn’t ask again. Instead, she exhales, moving closer, fingers brushing the corner of my desk.

"You’re worried," she murmurs.

I hum, tilting my head. "You sound surprised."

"You don’t worry."

"I don’t show it," I correct. "That doesn’t mean it isn’t there."

She studies me, gaze flickering over my face, as if searching for something.

I let her look.

Let her try to read me, piece me together.

She won’t. Not fully.

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