Page 70 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

Her gaze lifted to his armor again to spot the similarities.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

Zarek’s attention shifted not to the room of officers, but to her wrist. He removed one glove slowly, the dark leather sliding free as he approached her. He stopped close enough that she could feel the heat that lived just beneath his skin.

“You have questions.” There was a slight flicker across his lips before hiding his smile, making the room smaller when he looked at her like that.

“The thread caught on my cuff, which also carries your staves. Right?”

His bare hand hovered briefly before he touched the edge of one of the embroidered runes, his thumb brushing the silver stitching with an unexpected gentleness. “The geometric patterns mark you as under my protection,” he said low enough so that the others could not overhear. “I had it adapted for you.”

“For protection?”

“For recognition,” he corrected. “It tells the others you belong here.”

No, I don’t belong here, is what she wanted to say, but with everyone watching she had promised she wouldn’t spill about where she called home.

His fingers remained there a heartbeat longer than necessary. “It’s saying my rank, service, and magick.”

“And mine?”

“We don’t know what your magick will do.” His thumb brushed over her wrist, sending her pulse to skitter under her skin. “Until we do, the Keep will not mistake you for an intruder, and the threads tells others you are under my protection.”

“As your—”

“Guest. Angela. Not my prisoner, so please stop thinking that.” He released her wrist but did not step back.

She held his gaze. Most people couldn’t, from what she’d observed so far. The guards reported to him with their eyes lowered. Tamarr did it too. It seemed everyone knew the power of his eyes; that if they looked too long, they’d go mad or blind.

But Angela still didn’t look away. “Why am I here?”

Only then did he straighten fully, reclaiming the space of command.

“You asked to be kept informed as part of our treaty agreement.” He turned to face the other men in the room, his voice commanding. “There has been increased Black Cloak movement…” Zarek tapped on the map spread across the table, written in a way she’d never seen before. It moved as if alive—not the paper itself, but the wood beneath, its grains rising and reshaping to mirror every contour of the map above, responding to wherever a finger pointed, pulling the land closer or pushing it wide.

It took her a moment to realize they were pointing at her house, her suburb that rose from the paper itself, as if the map was part of the wooden table. Which was impossible, when she could clearly see it was paper.

As Zarek spoke, the others studied her openly while others avoided looking.

Martar, who she’d been introduced to yesterday, looked amused in a way that suggested gossip was alive and well in the Keep. He was one of the three men who’d stood by her car yesterday, grinning when Zarek threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and whisked her away like some caveman. That grin of his was annoying.

Zarek must have picked up on it, as he cleared his throat and glared at Martar, who physically wiped the grin off his face and focused on the maps.

Zarek continued his briefing. “We have a contact in the mortal realm whose household requires protection while our intelligence operation is active. I want a rotating watch, four-hour intervals that will cover both day and night. Any and all issues about this operation go through me. Questions?”

The room remained silent.

Zarek then nodded at her, as if she understood that they were watching over her aunt, without telling the other men in this room that she was from the mortal realm.

“Thank you.” She opened her mouth to ask—

Zarek moved lightning fast to stand before her, with his voice barely a whisper, “We cannot bring her here. The Accords prohibit mortal relocation.”

Mortal. Ha. What did that make her? A complication in a plum-colored gown and borrowed slippers?

Several sets of eyes cut to her, like she was caught under a spotlight.