Page 141 of Elemental Becoming

But as someone who once stood beside him.

As I do now.

And then it clicks. This is not just some noblewoman.

This is his ex.

And I have been standing here smiling like an idiot.

I don’t react. Not outwardly. Not in any way that gives her the satisfaction of knowing I’ve finally put the pieces together.

Because two can play this game. And I do not intend to lose.

“You seem to know him well,” I say lightly, as though this is nothing more than polite conversation.

Her lips curl slightly, amusement flickering there.

“I do,” she answers, her hazel eyes watching me with the calm patience of someone who already understands the terrain better than I do.

“Have you known him for long?” I inquire, still playing the part.

“Long enough.”

Vague. Deliberately vague.

And yet, the implication settles uneasily inside me. Long enough to know his habits. Long enough to know what lies beneath the surface. Long enough to once believe she knew where she stood with him.

“I imagine you must have spent quite some time at court, then,” I say, carefully placing my goblet on a passing tray.

Mirth glints in her hazel eyes. She’s baiting me.

“You could say that,” she murmurs, her voice smooth as silk and just as difficult to grasp.

“And what is it that you do, exactly?”

“Oh, I dabble in many things.”

She’s not offering me anything real. Not her name. Not her past. Not even the courtesy of honesty. She’s enjoying this—the game, the balance of power shifting by inches.

“It’s fascinating,” she muses, taking another languid sip of wine while watching me over the rim of her glass.

“What is?” I ask smoothly.

“Seeing him like this.” A pause. “Standing beside someone. Choosing someone.”

I keep my expression carefully neutral. “You say that like it surprises you.”

Her smile never falters.

“It does.” Her eyes flick toward Thane, still deep in conversation across the ballroom. “He never used to let himself have things like this.”

My stomach tightens. I refuse to give her the reaction she’s looking for. “Like what?”

She takes another sip, the pause long enough to feel intentional.

“Like you,” she says softly, deliberately. “Not everyone will be as welcoming of your . . . position as he is.”

There it is. The challenge.