Page 11 of Clash of Storms
You—Her throat felt thick again, heat rushing up her cheeks. "They're the product of your imagination only. So perhaps you should tell me? It should make a good story."
"Do you really want me to say what I think is going on behind that blank mask you wear?"
"I don't have time for this—"
"Or perhaps you would prefer to hear mine? Because Icanimagine, Lady Malin." He took a step toward her, his voice roughening. "I wonder... how polite and obedient would you be if I ordered you to your knees?"
She took a step back. Sweet Goddess, was it warm in here? "I daresay I wouldnotbe polite at all."
Sirius leaned down, as if to try and read her expression. Malin's back hit the wall. He'd never spoken like this before. Taunted her, yes, but never... never in this overtly sexual manner. It was as though the announcement of his betrothal in the throne room had released whatever restraint he'd wielded, revealing a male well intent on conquering her.
It was somewhat thrilling.
Unsettling.
Because he'd made it clear he saw her as well beneath him. Why then would he act as though—?
You fool.Of course. This had nothing to do with her.
He was probably after information about Árdís. The princess had fled the throne room almost immediately upon the announcement, after all.
"Sometimes I wonder what you're thinking," Sirius admitted softly, setting his hands behind his back as if to grant her space. Perhaps he'd picked up on her unease. "I can practically see your mind racing. In one moment, you're staring at me as though you want me to kiss you. And the next, you look like you'd prefer to knife me. It's confusing."
You're confusing.
She backed away. "I really should be going."
"What's the rush?" He reached out slowly and tipped her chin up with one finger. A shivery feeling arced through her at the contact. "What are you up to, sweet Malin?"
Rescuing princesses, she thought, as she jerked her face away from him.Because someone has to save them from dragons. "Don't touch me."
The impression of his caress remained behind.
This was new too.
He didn't touch her. She'd never had to fear him in that way. No, he seemed more inclined to bandy wits with her.
And he never looked at her like this, as though there was something he was trying to tell her.
Something hecouldn'ttell her.
Her heartbeat ticked out the long seconds. Malin's mouth went dry.
"I do not mean to frighten you. Never that." Sirius slowly held his hands up as if to show her he meant no harm.
"You don't frighten me."
He loomed over half the court but he'd never made her feel as though she should fear him.
"I thought...."
She waited for him to elaborate, but the words never came.
Malin cleared her throat. This strange encounter needed to end. "I'm afraid Princess Árdís was feeling poorly, and I hoped to fetch her something to eat and drink from the kitchens."
"Malin."
Not "Lady Malin". Not "sweet Malin," or any other mocking epithet. Just Malin. He'd never called her directly by name.
