“I’m not here in an official capacity,” I say, trying to not let Roz’s amusement bleed into my own reaction or tone. “You’re just doing your job.”
She straightens, keeping her gaze downcast. “My … Your Royal Highness … I had no idea —”
“Paying attention to your surroundings might be a smart idea, shifter,” Roz says.
It’s a mild rebuke, but the poor assistant flinches. “The council is not in session, and Lord Hereford doesn’t have anything on his public schedule.”
Roz gives her another once-over, unimpressed. “Then why are you here, Lia? Still sniffing around?”
Lia goes still, wary.
Okay, there’s clearly more going on here than I’m aware of. But honestly, it’s not my concern. I shouldn’t be surprised that Roz knows Lia, or at least knows of Lia. The aforementioned Lord Hereford, aka Elias, went through weeks of security background checks, alongside jumping through all the other ridiculous hoops my father dreamed up for the matchmaking event.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I murmur, crossing for the heavy wooden doors that lead into the inner offices. “I know the way.”
“Oh!” Lia cries. “Please don’t touch —”
My hand closes around the carved brass handle, easily passing through the intricate, yet somehow delicate, warding that seals the doors. But the essence-fueled protections don’t collapse under my touch, as per usual. They accept me, accept my essence, instead.
It’s an odd sensation. I’m not certain I’ve ever felt the like.
I turn the handle freely, then push through the door.
Lia gasps behind me.
But my gaze is already tracking across the room, beyond the brown leather and dark wood that fills the seating area to my immediate left, toward the huge desk situated closer to the far windows.
The wood-slat shades are partially open, allowing angled slashes of late-morning light to filter across the all-but-bare bookshelves lining the walls, then play out across the hardwood floor.
But the slim, blond, pale-skinned man rising from behind the desk to greet me isn’t washed out at all. His light-blue eyes blaze, capturing all my attention.
Elias. Lord Hereford. He’s removed his suit jacket, loosened his tie, opened his collar, and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
And yes, there is something perfectly scandalous about the amount of skin Lord Hereford is displaying. But then, he didn’t expect a visitor to barge into his office.
Then I notice the sharp-edged weapon, carved purely from light, resting in the palm of his raised hand. Held at the ready, set to stab me through the heart with a mere flick of those slim, perfectly manicured fingers.
Apparently, I didn’t slide through his outer wards as easily as I thought. And he’s not rising to greet me. A strange sort of thrill shivers through me, and I find myself biting back a most inappropriate grin.
Elias’s gaze snaps to my mouth. To my lower lip caught in my teeth.
“Think you can take me?” I say, my voice low and playfully taunting. My own power shivers over me again — I recognize the energy the second time it happens, but it’s still a completely unusual feeling. “My lord?”
I’ve misplaced my brain somewhere, willfully abandoning the polite princess in the outer halls and momentarily forgetting —
Roz’s presence shifts behind me, just beyond the wards I can still feel sealing the doorway. Wariness laces through her voice. “Your Highness?”
Elias’s gaze levels over my shoulder. He raises both of his hands slightly, palms outward and now empty. The weapon constructed out of light has dissipated. At the same time, the wards on the door through which I easily passed fade away.
I glance at Roz with a polite smile.
She grimaces, looking steadily and intently at Elias for a moment. Then she deliberately casts her gaze around the entire office. With a stiff nod to me, she snags the door handle and steps back into the outer hall to pull the door closed.
She’s not going to be pleased that I don’t plan to actually stay within the confines of the office she’s just deemed safe enough to momentarily house me.
Removing my sunglasses, I turn back to Elias. He doesn’t meet my gaze, looking everywhere but at me as he rolls down the cuffs of his shirt.
A sliver of disappointment runs through me. “I don’t mean to disturb you.”
