“I usually charge for extended viewings.” His drawled voice fractures my shock. I can move again, and I pad with as much dignity as I can up the last few steps. Is he here alone? Where is Malachite? He doesn’t usually come with Lucien on his excursions into the city as Whisper, but there’s always the chance.

“I was hoping you’d consider a discount for me.” I throw my hair over my shoulder with a smirk. “Considering how long we’ve been together.”

“Two weeks is nearly a lifetime,” he agrees drily. He sits up, his leather pants crinkling as he swings his long legs around and stands. The moonlight highlights his strong cheekbones, and through my stupor I’m taken aback at the purple circles under his eyes, now much deeper than before. Is he sleeping at all these days? He should be sleeping well. He should have hardly any worries to keep him up, with Varia being the crown princess and all. His family is whole again.

“Do you often call girls out to secluded locations to admire your naked chest under the moonlight?” I quirk a brow. “Or am I a special case?”

“‘Special’ is rather generous and grandiose of you.” He throws me that brittle smile as he pulls on his buckling shirt again, the slice of his skin from neck to navel standing out starkly against the black leather. “I don’t typically think of traitors as special. In fact, they’re rather common in my line of work.”

I hide my flinch expertly—gods bless you, Y’shennria.

“I’m sure being a prince is truly backbreaking work,” I jab. Why is he wasting my time like this? Why would he call me out here and shed clothes while waiting for me? Is he trying to distract me? This is more tormenting than it should be, than I promised myself it would be.

“It is when girls like you test my patience.” He buttons up the leather shirt, one by one, dark eyes meeting mine coolly. With that look in his gaze, I suddenly understand. I don’t affect him at all in this moment. But he’s proving, undeniably, that he affects me. His shirtless ruse is something to rile me. To prove he can control me, instead of the other way around. To lead me the way I led him around for two weeks. I gulp my anger down with cold purpose and give him a smile.

“I assume you called me out here for business, Your Highness. After all, we both know it’s not for pleasure.”

I take one step toward him, and the world moves.

From the shadows, metal spears through the air, a sharp whizz streaking past my ear and sinking into the deteriorating clay just an inch from the toe of my boot. A crossbow bolt. Metal swings through the air, a weighty arc that stops just before my throat. A broadsword.