“Good, leave,” I mutter under my breath. But when my gaze sweeps back I find his attention solely on me. The weight of his stare reminds me of just how bold I’ve been and my insides liquefy.
“You hid yourself,” he says, dangerously quiet.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He takes a wide step forward, encroaching on my space. This close, I can smell him. The air around him is perfumed with a cologne of sandalwood, moss, and a bright fresh note like the air before a storm. It’s a lovely, earthy, intoxicating aroma that is in stark contrast to the scowl of disgust he wears.
I try and step away but I am snared. He reaches forward, sliding his fingertips down my throat. I shiver, frozen in place.
The king’s finger hooks on the necklace Luke gave me all those years ago. They slide down to the pendant and he makes a fist. His expression darkens to something almost sinister and I wonder if I should be begging him for my life.
His other hand has worked around the back of my throat, cradling my head. His fingers move. Is he about to snap my neck? Is this how I die?
“You will know, soon enough,” he says before he yanks the necklace away.
The world goes white, then fills with screams.