He veered, an unexpected gleam of calculation in his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about Camilla.”
Incredulity wrapped claws around my heart. “Because Roan said so?”
“Because he gave me his oath,” he revealed. “If Camilla decides to act out, Roan will stand by my side. And yours, of course.”
I pondered for a moment, chewing at my lower lip. “Will Roan succeed Espen? Is that why you value his loyalty so much?”
Hector shook his head grimly, as though he wished that was the case. “As the eldest Ravenor, Camilla is next in line, but since Espen doesn’t trust her to keep the peace with the humans, I believe Alexandria will take over. Unless, of course, Camilla fights her for the position. But that is highly unlikely.”
“You were in the study for a long time,” I persisted, finding all this convenience a bit suspicious. “Are you sure nothing happened with Roan?”
“I was just talking with Dahlia,” he said.
Oh.Oh.
He was just talking withDahlia.
Beautiful, refined, aristocratic Dahlia.
How lovely.
I shifted to face the vanity again. “Your betrothed, you mean?”
He sighed. “We were never officially engaged.”
“Yes, why is that?” My voice cut harder than I wished it to. It betrayed me like the rest of my body. “She’sperfectfor you, no? I mean, she’s practically vampire royalty.”
“Are you jealous, Dorothea?” Hector drawled, and as my eyes darted up, I was startled to find his reflection in the mirror. He bent over me, grabbing the back of my chair with one hand and the edge of the table with the other. His head tilted into the space next to mine, his hot breath swirling over the skin of my throat.
“Of course not,” I gritted out, but my fingers under the table were carving crescents in my palms.
“Looks good on you.”
“Whatlooks good on me?”
The beginning of a smile tugged at his lips. “Jealousy.”
“You’re so full of yourself,” I huffed. “It’s rather unbecoming for a grown man, you know.”
He eased into the space before me, resting his hip against the vanity table. The distance between us became an accidental brush of my shoulder against the side of his thigh. “Oh no, notunbecoming,” he mocked.
I glared at him, broiling in frustration. “Don’t you think that as your wife—”
“Pretend wife.”
“As yourpretendwife, I ought to know about your former dalliances?”
Subtle raise of his brow. Condescending incline of his neck. Gods knew I hated him sometimes. “Dalliances,” he echoed dryly.
“Well, there’s your mystery woman, and Dahlia—”
“Maybe I should ask about your dalliances as well,” he interposed.
“Would you like me to form you a list, Hector dear?” I hummed contentiously, knowing very well there was no such list. There had only been Killian. Buthedidn’t have to know that.
To my immense satisfaction, Hector’s haughty expression gave in to a morose scowl. “No, I would not like a kill list.”
“I said list. Notkilllist, for sky’s sake.”