Page 69 of The Exile's Curse

"You're not supposed to be watching me," she hissed.

"Actually I am. A traitor approached you. If he does so again, I want to know about it."

"If he sees you lurking about staring at me, he's hardly going to do that, is he?"

"I guess we'll find out. Because I'm not going to stop watching."

"You should."

"But I won't."

"I'm telling you not to. I don't like it."

"That's a lie," he said, tongue flying ahead of him again. Stupid. But apparently some of that reckless mood of the ball had rubbed off on him. "You do like it," he continued before she could protest. "You wouldn't be so angry about it if you didn't."

Her eyes flared wide. "How do you know that? You said you wouldn't use your powers on me. Was that another lie? Well, I'm not sure what your powers told you. I don't like you. Ihateyou."

The anger roiled through him. Goddess damn her. She would keep pushing until one of them broke. "You can hate me,Madamede Montesse."

The words were wielded like a weapon. A reminder that he knew exactly who she had been. Who he suspected she still was. The wife of a traitor. Whose memory held her as fast as steel chains might. Trapped in the past that hadn't let her go.

"You can hate me, but I'll be damned if you will stand there and insult me. I do not misuse my powers, and I keep my oaths. I have never lied to you."

"The oh so mighty Lord Truth Seeker. And his oh so mighty truth. To be held to at the expense of all else. Even his best friend's life."

"Yes," he agreed bluntly. "Because I am loyal. But he was the one who threw his life away. His death is not my fault. Charl was the one who broke his oaths. To his emperor. To his country. To you. To all of us. You should hatehim." He virtually snarled the last word.

She went pale then, as though he'd slapped her. "He's not here to hate," she said, the pain in the words cracking him in half as she turned and ran from the room.

He swore as the slam of the door came. Swore viciously and repeatedly and then, unable to stop it at the last, stalked over to the bed and yelled, "Fuck!" so loud it nearly echoed off the stones.

Fuck Andalyssia and its fucking mountain of a city.

Fuck them all.

Fuck Chloe and her insistence on blaming him for everything Charl had done.

Though, he realized as he sank onto the mattress with a groan and buried his face in his hands for a moment, he hadn't told the truth tonight. He had lied to her. Many, many times. Every time he clamped his teeth to hold back the words he wanted to say. To tell her to throw over his idiot best friend and take him instead.

He'd never spoken them. He'd told them both that he was delighted for them.

He'd tried his best to be.

But it had been a lie.

Would continue to be a lie between them, it seemed.

He straightened and dragged his hands through his hair. He hadn't meant to upset her. Hadn't meant to hurt her. He should find her and apologize. Or try to. She would, most likely, slam another door in his face. Really, he wouldn't blame her.

So. He would go. Try to apologize. Be more discreet in his mission to make sure she was safe. And then they would try, once more, to keep things civil until they returned home.

Chloe knew who it was when the knock came at her door.

For a moment, she contemplated not answering. But she'd been unfair to Lucien. She owed him an apology.

She wasn't entirely sure why she felt that way. Surely she owed him nothing? Perhaps. But nor should she hurt him. It wouldn't bring Charl back. And at this point, it seemed it would just make things harder.

Goddess. She had no idea what she wanted to do with him. He'd told the truth, even if he had only guessed at it. She did like his eyes on her. Or she had tonight. Every glimpse of him catching her gaze across the ballroom had made her skin hot and her dress feel too tight. When they'd waltzed, she hadn’t wanted him to let go of her. In fact, she’d wanted him to pull her closer.

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