“Are fleeing in droves, according to my sources.”
“I have patients—”
“Who will surely get on without you as they did before.”
“That may be true,” I reluctantly concede. “But there are also threats to the borders, which are—”
“Being dealt with by Dyved’s highly capable armies. And, it bears repeating, no burden of yours. Unless you plan to venture onto the ice shelf arm in arm with General Yale.” He pauses. “Icannot quite envision such a partnership, given the commander’s outright hostility when it comes to you.”
How is it that he always seems to know everything?
My nostrils flare on an exhale. “Reavers aside, there are other pressing threats. The Frostlanders—”
“Will turn their gazes back across the sea to easier prey after one strong show of force. They’re scavengers, not occupiers.” His fingers tap out a new pattern on the tabletop. “Now. Any more excuses to spin for me, or have you finally run dry?”
“You don’t—I just—” I take another sharp breath. “Pendefyre will be—”
“What?” he clips when I trail off, a flash of impatience in his face. “Angry? Jealous? Fuming at the loss of his possession?”
I set down my fork, hand shaking. “I am not his possession.”
“He keeps you like one.”
“I am not his to keep.”
“Aren’t you?”
My eyes narrow to pinpricks. “No. I ammine, and mine alone.”
“Right.” His voice drops lower, to a blatant imitation of Penn’s rumbling tones.“Give her back to me.”
The words he wrote in his letter.
Soren’s scoff is scathing. “What are you, a misplaced hat? Some lucky trinket he keeps in his pocket?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about when it comes to my relationship with Pendefyre.”
He scoffs again. “Clearly.”
“I will not be relegated to the role of a toy without autonomy, caught in some ridiculous game of tug-of-war between the two of you. I have my own mind, and make my own choices. Always.”
“Always?Then why do your decisions hinge on his desires?”
“You don’t know anything about my desires!”
“Don’t I?” His eyes hold mine as his head cants to one side,regarding me. There is an awareness in their depths that makes my stomach clench. “You want to stay.”
“I don’t.”
He drains the rest of his goblet. “In two centuries, I’ve never met a worse liar.”
I shoot to my feet, anger surging. “I am not lying.”
“You are.” He rises as well, then rounds the table toward me in slow, deliberate strides. “I can read your emotions behind those flimsy little shields you put up, but I don’t have to. The truth is written all over your face.”
Nearly tripping on the too-long robe, I backpedal away as he comes closer, my pulse spiking in alarm as I make efforts to solidify my—apparently ineffective—mental shields. Whether it’s the effects of the wine or a leftover rush from his battle against the tidal wave, there is a disconcerting energy swirling around Soren. Not the frothy, playful waves at the surface of his personality. No, we are deep in uncharted waters. The look in his eyes makes my heart thud, my nerves ignite. My hands come up as if to ward him off.
“Soren, stop.”