Page 22 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

I groaned as I sank onto the sofa in my sitting room. The weight of the evening’s events sat heavier than the armor gracing my form.By The Four, I need a drink. The maid fainted before we’d gotten any information from her. So bravely she defended whomever she’d been sending the letter for, claiming it her own doing. Perhaps she had written it, but intuition told me it wasn’t her idea. Regardless, I needed to rule out options and confirm that Ilya hadn’t passed it off to her somehow. My fellow captains would be testing our other guests in similar ways.

Time ticked by slower than the coldest of nights in the resting season until the door creaked open.

Finally.

If Ilya wanted to play games, I’d play them with her, but on my terms.

She stumbled into the room as soon as the doors opened.

My brows scrunched together. It wasn’t like her to be so clumsy.

The pale fabric of Ilya’s dress swished as she jerked to a halt, her eyes going wide. “What are you doing here?”

A smile ached to break free. “It is my room.” I’d adopted her customary position on my sofa, legs crossed and a book in my lap—not that I’d read a word of it tonight. Already my plot worked, throwing her off-balance.

I set the book aside and stretched out, one arm on the back of the seat and legs spread in open invitation.

Ilya scowled. Her nose twitched as she stared me down.

“Come, sit with me.” I patted the space next to me. A casual request. Almost friendly.

The barest flash of pink tongue peeked out as she licked her lips.

Gods.That one simple act had me aching to pin her to the wall and taste her lips myself. The way she ambled across the room, limbs loose and limber like a warrior preparing for battle, made it hard to concentrate. It wasn’t often women showed any interest in my direction, and our emperor strongly discouraged such liaisons. But I was still a man, and no amount of training and discipline could quench all my natural desires.

She was the emperor’s guest though. I couldn’t want her that way. It was curiosity. A puzzle that ached to be solved. That was all.

“What have I done to deserve this honor?” Ilya practically fell onto the sofa, her hand landing on my leg for support.

My body tensed as her olive flower scent hit my nose.

“Sorry.” Her grin said something different.

That glassy look in her eyes and slight slur in her words said much more. “You’re drunk.”

Ilya with her guard down? The circumstances couldn’t be better to learn what I needed to know. She didn’t pull away as I grabbed her arms to steady her.

“Not drunk. Just…” She shrugged. “Maybe a little.” A sheepish smile leaked out with her words. She curled her legs underneath her—so relaxed, so innocent. Another act?

“Why were you drinking?” I asked.

She scowled. “What else is there to do here?”

A fair statement. So many idle days would have driven me mad.

“It’s a pity you indulged tonight.” My casual shrug took effort. The longer she sat there, the more her imbibed state became apparent. “I hoped you’d look at something for me.”

She frowned. Her delicate fingers trailed down my armored bicep, a gesture too obvious to be misconstrued. “What did you want me to look at? You perhaps?”

By The Four, this woman tested me. My cock twitched, demanding attention, but I couldn’t give into my base desires. Not with her. Not now. I coughed, hoping my armor hid my body’s reaction as I adjusted my posture, pulling away from her alluring scent and wine-stained lips.

“Not exactly.”Unfortunately. “First, write something for me.” I gestured to the low table in front of us where’d I placed a stack of blank papers, an inkwell, and a fine quill of grey and brown feather.

Her brows pinched together. “What do you want me to write?”

“Anything. Just a few lines should do.”

She blinked, her head tilting to the side before she shrugged. Ilya slid her feet to the ground and scooted to the edge of the seat, closer to me. The pale material of her dress slid against my armor. Her leg bumped mine and stayed there.

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