Page 87 of Sands of Atonement

She plastered on a fake smile and dropped it a moment later.

Shaking my head, I pulled a cloth from my pocket and felt her body tense up. “Do I need to use this?”

The column of her throat moved. “No.”

I nodded and pulled her through the threshold and entered the dimly lit chamber. There were multiple low couches and a large table in the center. Papers and ink pens were scattered on it.

Amr met my eyes briefly before they flickered over to Eshe, no doubt wondering what she was doing here. He greeted me with a nod, “Ruhn.”

My eyes slid to Eshe. I could see the wheels turning in her head.

Amr knew my name. He was the only one who knew my identity. Except for Eshe, now. But here, he spoke my Atrovian name.

“Amr. What’s the urgent news?”

Amr glanced once more at Eshe. His brows were knitted, and he had a look in his eyes that told me he didn’t have good news. So it was important. Goddamn it.

I couldn’t leave her anywhere. She was a snake—she’d slither out of anything if I so much as blinked in the wrong direction.

“Don’t make a fucking sound,” I grunted as I placed a hand on the small of her back, pushing her to the far corner wall away from the threshold. But touching her there sprang an electric feeling through my arm, and I snatched my hand back.

Eshe sat at a corner table that held nothing but a candle.

I walked back with Amr near the threshold.

“What is it?” I gritted my teeth, preparing myself for the worst.

“Ruhn,” he drawled, shaking his head at a loss for words.

“Is it Kavid? Where is he now?” I demanded.

“Traveling back to Urnaz. They’re going back to you for help in finding her.” Amr glanced at Eshe. “Kavid will find out sooner rather than later that you’re not there anymore.”

I grunted in agreement, not exactly caring what Kavid thought. “If anyone here asks, it’s because we don’t want the marriage between the two countries. It’ll make Zyriah stronger. Right now, they’re both in our control. And now we have the princess. I’ll be taking her somewhere else in the meantime.”

“Of course, I’ll spread the word among the men.”

“So, what is it then?” I pressed.

“It’s about the last Atrovian leader, Targon. As you know, he presumably died when we hadn’t heard or seen him for two years.”

Targon was his name to the Atrove. No one really knew what his real name was. No one knew where he lived or what he did in society besides ruling the Atrove. He was one of the greatest but ruthless leaders that the Atrove had—he was reckless at times, but it always seemed to work out in the Atrove’s favor. Until he disappeared. Two years later, the Atrove found me, or I found the Atrove, depending on which God you asked. I quickly moved up the ranks and was voted to become their leader. Only Amr knows of my Qahlship—and now Eshe. Casimir suspected something, but I doubt he knew the extent.

Damn her.

When I was around Atrovians, I shaved my head, revealing my tattoos. The Atrove began to recognize me with this look, keeping my identity hidden—for the most part, it had been working just fine. If they found out my Qahlship, nothing would change.

The Atrove was still mine.

Tehara was still mine.

Mine.

I glared at Eshe while I asked Amr, “What about Targon?”

He swallowed audibly before speaking, “He’s been seen by some of the older Atrovians.”

My head snapped toward him. Did I hear that right?