The place had clearly been built for Ruckus’s kind, with high ceilings and hallways wide enough to fit six of him shoulder to shoulder. There were no windows in this portion of the castle, so the only lighting came from a row of white lights strung up at the center directly above them. It smelled like a mixture of burned firewood and bleach, the first coming from him while the second was the hall itself.
Not wanting to dwell on why she could smell him from a distance away, she angled her hips and sighed exasperatedly, laying it on a bit thick even in her own mind. A grin split across his handsome face, and she knew she’d made an error somewhere.
“What don’t you want me to overhear?” he asked, voice dropping an octave, as if they were sharing a secret between them even though they were the only ones around. He pulled back his shoulders and tucked his hands into his front pockets, rocking back on his heels. The whole pose was too relaxed, the sudden change in him coming off almost cocky.
“Pretty much everything,” she said cautiously. “Can we keep going now?”
“Why? Are you already done concentrating on ‘the hot alien’?”
She felt her face go red. “I hate mind reading.”
His chuckle was warm, real, and his body seemed to ease even more. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Oh? Because you’re so hot and you know it?”
“I’ve never thought about it before.” He shrugged. “Appearance has never really mattered to me.”
“That’s easy enough to say when you look like that.” She waved a hand, indicating all of him.
His brow furrowed in an obvious mixture of confusion and surprise.
“Olena!” The Basileus’s call carried down the hall, and they both turned in his direction.
Guiltily, though not really having a reason to be, they both stepped away from each other, watching as he approached, Pettus and three other guards on his heels.
“I heard about what happened.” Magnus reached them and came to a sudden stop, just short of reaching out to touch her arm. His hand hesitated in the air for another second or so before he dropped it back to his side. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She wrung her hands and forced a small smile. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“We’ve caught the men responsible,” he said, fury lacing his tone. “Don’t worry. They will be dealt with accordingly. If something had happened to you…” Magnus glanced over his shoulder at the three unknown guards and then waved them back down the hall.
They did as ordered, stopping where they could keep an eye on him but could no longer overhear.
Not that there was much to overhear, for the four of them stood around in an awkward silence for a long moment. Pettus and Ruckus both kept their arms in front of themselves, clasped, while the Basileus seemed to struggle with whether or not to speak and, if the former, what to say.
Sick of the stalling, Delaney came right out with it. “Trystan was involved.”
Magnus’s eyes went wide, and his mouth thinned. “That is not an accusation you should make lightly, or at all. Especially out loud.”
“He was luring me to the tree,” she insisted, though she smartly kept her voice down.
“Coincidence,” he stated. “He was in every bit as much danger there as you were, was he not?”
Well … yes, actually. She hadn’t thought of that. She’d been so surprised and freaked out that she hadn’t really stopped to think about the fact that he’d been closer to the explosion than she had. He’d gotten to the ground quickly, sure, but she’d seen them move. Aliens were faster than humans.
Perhaps she’d jumped to conclusions?
“Besides,” Magnus added, seeing her internal struggle, “like I already told you, we caught the bombers. They’re Tars who hoped ruining the celebration would cause a panic. It seems like you were never actually their intended target; it just happened to work out that way. They’re more upset now knowing that they could have killed you, even accidentally, than they are that their plan failed. No one is panicking. We’re Vakar. We don’t scare lightly.”
She couldn’t really argue with him, his being the Basileus and all. Not to mention, he was making valid points. What did she really know about their politics anyway? Hell, she hadn’t even known the Tars existed until yesterday.
“I’m sorry you got mixed up in all this,” Magnus said, swiftly putting an end to the discussion.
“If you were really sorry,” she couldn’t help but say, “you’d send me home.”
The darkening of the blue in his irises was the only outward sign of his anger. His voice, while clipped, remained even, and his shoulders hadn’t so much as tensed. Being that he was a king, it shouldn’t have been surprising that he had such strong control over his body and its reactions.
“Delaney,” Ruckus urged telepathically, but she didn’t look at him, keeping her attention on the Basileus.
“The reason why that’s impossible has already been explained to you, Miss Grace. Please, don’t mistake my pity for stupidity. I won’t risk my people so that one human girl can go back to her bland life.”
Okay … were all aliens assholes? Because she was seriously starting to get that vibe. Also, did they all have to look so … perfect? She’d been so nervous this morning at breakfast, she hadn’t really taken the time to observe just how vital the Basileus looked. In comparison to the Basilissa, he was a hard yet handsome man; on his own, however, the full extent of his attractiveness stood out.
He was maybe an inch shorter than Ruckus, so probably around six four, and his inky black hair was thicker, and wavy. She’d peg him as a surfer back home with locks like those.
“With all due respect”—she held tightly to her anger, making sure to only allow part of it to show—“you don’t know anything about me, or my life. Just because I’m not a Lissa back on Earth doesn’t mean that my day-to-day life is any less eventful.”
“Yes.” He nodded snidely. “That’s right, isn’t it? Parasailing and bungee jumping, correct?”
“You forgot about petting the lion,” she bit out.
“Careful, Miss Grace,” he warned, and at her side Ruckus’s fists clenched. “If that’s true, you’ve already survived one encounter with a predator. Do you really want to try your luck at another?”
“She’s not well, Basileus,” Ruckus said, coming to her defense. “Not only did she hit her head during the explosion, but we just came from her fitting.”
“You had her fitted?” Magnus glanced between the two of them, wearing a deep frown.
“She’s unaware of our customs and our policies,” Ruckus stated. This last part was said with more force and a pointed look her way. “Getting fitted was the best way to feed her information while concealing her identity.”
“Hmm.” Satisfied with that, the Basileus moved to leave. “Smart decision, Ander. Keep up the good work. And you, Miss Grace”—there was clear warning all over his face—“watch your step. Remember, the Vakar aren’t the only ones who will suffer should the Kints discover what’s really going on here.”