Page 49 of Darkbirch Academy

My throat feels suddenly dry. “I’ve never had to?—”

“Never had to seduce a man into a private room?” Heraises an eyebrow. “I find that difficult to believe, given your training.”

I lift my chin. “My missions typically involve more direct approaches.”

“Ah.” Understanding crosses his features. “Then do you want more specific instruction?”

I consider it for a moment, then nod. I’ve come this far in his “class,” I might as well see what other gems of wisdom he has to offer.

He steps closer. “When the conversation has established sufficient connection, you’ll need to create desire—urgent enough that he’ll suggest privacy.”

“And how exactly do I do that?”

Instead of answering verbally, Dayn reaches out, his fingers brushing my bare shoulder.

His touch leaves a trail of heat that has nothing to do with his dragon nature. “Once you have him alone,” Dayn continues, “you’ll need to keep him... occupied until we can make our move.”

I hesitate. “How far exactly am I expected to go with this charade?”

“Far enough to keep him distracted,” Dayn says, his fingers trailing down my arm with deliberate slowness. “But not so far that you lose control of the situation.”

His demonstration is becoming uncomfortably effective. I step back, needing distance. “I understand the concept.”

“Do you?” He follows, closing the space between us again. “The key is to make him believe he’s the one in control while never relinquishing your own. A delicate balance.”

“I can handle delicate balances,” I say, more confidently than I feel.

“Show me,” Dayn challenges, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Convince me to follow you to a private room.”

I hesitate, then decide to accept the challenge. If I can’t convince Dayn in practice, I doubt I’ll manage with Mazrov.

I let my shoulders relax and take a step toward him, deliberately softening my gaze. I tilt my head slightly, exposing my neck as he taught me, and allow my lips to part.

“You know,” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper that forces him to lean closer, “it’s getting rather... crowded in here.” I let my eyes drift to his mouth before meeting his gaze again. “I’ve heard the rooms here are quite... private.”

Something flickers across Dayn’s face—surprise, perhaps, at how quickly I’ve adapted to his instruction. Or maybe it’s something else. The gold in his eyes intensifies.

“Have you?” he responds, playing along. “And why would we need privacy?”

I step closer, eliminating the space between us. My fingers trace a path up his arm. “Some conversations are better had behind closed doors,” I murmur. “Don’t you think?”

His hand catches mine, stopping its upward trajectory. For a moment, I think I’ve overplayed my hand, but then his thumb brushes across my wrist in a slow circle.

“What kind of conversation did you have in mind?” His voice has dropped even lower, rumbling in his chest.

I lean in until my lips are nearly touching his ear. “The kind that doesn’t require many words.”

When I pull back, Dayn’s eyes have darkened considerably, the gold now a molten ring around his pupils. The air between us feels charged, electric.

Then his academic demeanor returns and he pulls away. “Convincing,” he says, though his voice is more rugged than before. “I think you’re ready, Salem.”

“I agree,” I mutter. Enough practice.

25

The Broken Lantern sits in Heathborne’s lower district, a place where clearblood guards come to forget the rigidity of their duties and indulge in cheaper pleasures. Its wooden sign hangs from a single chain, creaking in the evening breeze as I approach. Inside, the air is thick with smoke and the pungent scent of spilled ale. Candles flicker in iron sconces, casting long shadows across the uneven floorboards.

I rely on my ingrained magic for my glamour tonight, rather than a pendant around my neck, because the latter would be too conspicuous for this particular task…

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