Hundur needed to reveal his new horrid claws, after all.

I was becoming a reminder that the Jorvan king had a weapon.

A weapon the Death Bringer saw as weak enough he forced fetid herbs down her throat, like a tonic on a deathbed.

“I’m fine, Roark,” I said, forcing a weak grin when he tapped the edge of the table again, a signal I needed to drink more.

You were entranced too long.

Entranced. It was a good way to put it. Emi always described my eyes as a glassy lake. Glazed over with a sheen they could not break through. Not until I was thrust out.

I winced through another sip. Part of me yearned to tell Roark the truth, of the conversation I’d had with a phantom of Skul Drek. Some sort of dark spell craft was at play.

It meant the phantom knew exactly where I was in both the mirror and the waking world.

But his threat of giving up what I knew would not leave me. Doubtless Skul Drek would make good on his threat to find me, to end me, should I betray him. Of course, he might betray me first because he was a killer at heart.

He might be using me to find the Wanderer for himself.

I returned the tin cup to the table, one half of my mouth twisted in a grin. Roark’s eyes heated, watching me as I drifted around the table and took a place at his side on the bench.

A muscle jumped in his jaw when my palm dropped to his thigh.

“Worried for me, Sentry?” My whole body was alive with a rush of desire. I was not one to be bold or licentious. Life had trained me well to be demure and unseen. When I realized what I’d done, I slowly drew back my hand.

Roark caught my wrist. His fingers came to my chin and tilted my head so I could meet his dark, golden eyes. He was close enough I could feel the deeper draws of his breath against my hair.

The rough tip of his thumb brushed over my cheek. Roark did not gesture or write a response, merely nodded and hooked an arm around my waist, urging my body closer.

Close enough I leveraged my legs on either side of his hips, straddling him.

My brow pressed against his. Roark dug his fingertips into my hips, lips parted. A dark groan rumbled against my body, and in this moment, whatever he asked of me I would do. I wanted to scream at him to command me, to take the whole of me.

I was overwhelmed, confused. I did not know how to stop the spinning that rotated around a man who should’ve been revolting, should’ve been an enemy.

Now I could not get my fill of him.