Kylar flowed into the room in a low stance, the naked sword held in both hands. His eyes took in everything at once, flicked to every exit, to the windows, the shadows, even to the corners of the ceiling. The girls on the floor stopped, a handful of Mags’s hair still clenched in Ilena’s hand, guilt written all over their faces.

His pale, pale blue eyes seemed so familiar. Was it just Elene’s fantasies that put that flicker of recognition in them? Those eyes touched hers and she felt a tingle all the way up her spine. He was looking at her—her, not her scars. Men always looked at her scars. Kylar was seeing Elene. She wanted to speak, but there were no words.

His mouth parted as if he, too, was on the edge of words, but then he turned white as a sheet. His sword flashed back into a sheath and he turned. “Ladies, your pardon,” he said, ducking his head. Then he was gone.

“Good God,” Mags said. “Did you see that?”

“It was scary,” Ilena said, “and . . .”

“Intoxicating,” Elene said. Her face felt hot. She turned away as the girls stood. She sat and picked up the quill. As if she could write now.

“Elene, what’s going on?” Mags asked.

“When he saw my face, he looked like death warmed over,” Elene said. Why? He’d barely even looked at her scars. That was what scared away most of the boys.

“He’ll come around. You’re an angel. Give him a chance. We’ll ask him to the party for you and everything,” Ilena said.

“No. No, I forbid it. He’s a baronet, Lena.”

“A poor baronet whose lands have been taken by the Lae’knaught.”

“He’s just another unattainable man. I’ll get over it.”

“He doesn’t have to be unattainable. If he joins the faith . . . In the eyes of the God, all men are created equal.”

“Oh, Lena, don’t dangle that in front of me. I’m a serving girl. A scarred serving girl. It doesn’t matter what the God sees.”

“It doesn’t matter what the God sees?” Mags asked gently.

“You know what I mean.”

“Logan might marry Serah, and that’s as big a gap as there is between a poor baronet and you.”

“A noble marrying a lower noble is frowned on, but a noble marrying a commoner?”

“We’re not saying you should marry him. Just let us ask him to the party.”

“No,” Elene said. “I forbid it.”

“Elene—”

“That’s final.” Elene looked at the girls until each grudgingly gave their assent. “But,” she said, “you could tell me a little more about him.”

“Kylar,” Count Drake called out as Kylar tried to sneak past his office to get up the stairs. “Would you come in for a moment?”