I squared my shoulders. “I would love nothing more than to speak with you.”
A look of smugness settled on his handsome features, and I wanted nothing more than to kick him in the face. “Come.” He reached out, curling his arm over my shoulders. “I wish to speak in private.”
Rylan stepped forward—
“It’s okay,” I told him, although it really wasn’t. Looking over at him, I willed him to listen. “Truly, it is fine.”
Rylan’s jaw hardened as he stared at the Lord, and I could tell he wasn’t remotely happy about this, but he nodded curtly. “I’ll be right here.”
“Yes, you will,” the Lord replied.
Gods.
Not all Ascended were like the Lord, who wielded his power and station like a poison-tipped sword, but Lord Mazeen wasn’t even the worst example.
He steered me to the left, nearly causing a servant to drop the basket she carried. He seemed completely unaware of her as he strode forward. Whatever hope I had that he planned to speak to me a few steps away ended quickly as he took us into one of the shadowy alcoves between the doors.
I should’ve known.
He swept aside thick, white curtains and all but pulled me into the narrow space where the only source of light was a small sconce above a thickly cushioned chaise. I had no idea what the purpose of these half-hidden rooms was, but on more than one occasion, I’d found myself trapped in them.
I stepped back, a little surprised that the Lord allowed it. He watched me, the smirk returning as I positioned myself so I was close to one of the curtains. He sat on the chaise, stretching out his legs as he folded his arms across his chest.
Heart thumping, I chose my words carefully. “I really cannot linger. If someone were to see me, I would be in trouble with Priestess Analia.”
“And what would happen if the good Priestess of the Temples were to hear you were lingering?” he asked, his body appearing loose and relaxed, but I knew better.
Appearances could be deceiving. The Ascended were fast when they wanted to be. I’d seen them move in a manner that made them nothing more than a blur.
“Would she report such misbehavior to the Duke?” he continued. “I do so enjoy his lessons.”
Disgust was a weed taking root inside me. Of course, he enjoyed the Duke’s lessons. “I’m not sure what she would do.”
“It might be worth discovering,” he mused idly. “At least, for me.”
My fingers curled inward. “I don’t wish to displease the Duke or the Priestess.”
His lashes lowered. “I’m sure you would not.”
A sharp, stinging pain radiated out from where my nails dug into my palms. “What is it that you wish to speak to me about?”
“You didn’t ask your question appropriately.”
Searching for restraint and calm, I was grateful for the veil. If he could see my face in its entirety, he’d know exactly what I was feeling.
Which was red-hot, burning hatred.
I didn’t know why the Lord found such great entertainment in harassing me. Why he found such enjoyment in making me uncomfortable, but he’d been this way the last several years. He was worse toward the servants, though. I’d heard the whispered warnings to new staff. Avoid gaining his attention or his displeasure. No matter what, there was a limit to how far he could go with me. With the servants, I didn’t believe he felt there was even a line to cross.
I lifted my chin. “What would you like to discuss with me, Lord Mazeen?”
A hint of a cold smile appeared. “I realized it had been a while since I last saw you.”
It had been sixteen days since he’d last cornered me. So, not long enough.
“I’ve missed you,” he added.
Doubtful.
“My Lord, I must be on my way—” I sucked in a sharp breath as he rose. One second, he was stretched out on the chaise. The next, he was directly in front of me.
“I’m insulted,” he said. “I told you I missed you, and your only response was to say you must leave? You wound me.”
The fact that he’d said nearly the same words Hawke had uttered no more than two nights ago didn’t go unnoticed. Neither did the vastly different reactions I had to them. While Hawke had come across teasing, Lord Mazeen spoke the words as a warning. I wasn’t charmed. I was revolted.
“It wasn’t my intention,” I forced out.
“You sure?” he asked, and I felt his finger against my jaw before I even saw him move his hand. “I have the distinct impression that was exactly your intent.”