Page 46 of Hellbound

She loosened her tight jaw with a careful sip of wine.

“And are you looking forward to the trials?” he asked, eyes tracking her movements.

The scrape of his knife on his plate bounced around in her skull, jumbling her thoughts. Everything about him set her on edge—his voice, his movements, the way he held himself with false authority in his half-sister’s home.

“Not really.” Ksenia injected honesty into her tone. “But I am looking forward to money and security compared to what I could be doing instead.”

Like rotting in a mass grave with the other bondsmiths you’ve killed, she didn’t say.

His chuckle was low, and it crawled across her skin like he was dragging a dagger’s edge over it. “You think security comes with winning the trials? The Sevrant is a difficult position to survive, even after winning. Predecessors have routinely died on the job.”

Ksenia ground her teeth, her jaw rolling. His eyes flicked to the movement.

She hadn’t expected a prickly interrogation by the captain of the Envorsen himself.

One thrust. Right through his throat, just like you did to that headhunter. Don’t you want to see him choke on his own blood? Vornaya cooed in her ear, bringing the worst of her thoughts to the surface.

She promised herself she would in due time.

“You certainly know a lot about the position. Any information you care to bequeath upon me?” Ksenia let honey drip into her tone.

There was that hum again, like he was a predator deciding whether she was worth the hunt.

“I would if I could, but as the trial master, I’m honor-bound to be impartial. It’s already a questionable conflict of interest that Varka keeps a competitor within the manor, since I regularly frequent the residence.”

Two words rattled around in Ksenia’s mind.

He was the trial master. Which meant he’d be watching her like a hawk through every. Single. Stage. Of the competition. Looking for any reason to get her killed, or worse: expose her.

This man was like a splinter beneath her fingernail.

She fought back another irritated groan with a sip of wine. The taste had gone sour.

Whether he recognized her as Ksenia Drazan or not, he clearly didn’t trust her. He’d be watching for her to slip.

And she couldn’t afford to slip. The moment she did, it wouldn’t just be her life on the line, but Danika’s too.

“You lay no claim to this manor until your loyalties are to House Beranek first. Furthermore, there are no explicit rules stipulating that a candidate cannot be sheltered with their sponsor.” Varka drew the line as she sliced through a poached egg, spilling yolk on her plate.

Ksenia internally thanked Varka for the disruption of Bohdan’s magnifying glass upon her.

“All our loyalties should be to the king first, and family second. I thought Mother taught you that.” He surveyed Varka coolly over the edge of his goblet.

The tendon in Varka’s neck strained. “You didn’t learn a single thing from her, evidently.”

He dismissed her barb with a smile, but Ksenia caught the tightness around his eyes.

She forced herself to chew the delicate pheasant while her mind turned.

Bohdan didn’t recognize her; that much was clear. As was the fact that he didn’t believe her story or the convenient timing with which Varka had found a champion for the trials.

Take advantage of it. Keep him suspicious of the wrong things. Let him believe you are anything except what you actually are…

The king’s to-be-assassin. In more ways than one.

If she concealed her identity until the end, she could survive this. She could win the trials. She could get close enough to Karsan to drive Radegast through his skull.

And maybe, if she were lucky, Bohdan would be there to watch his precious king die. The thought of it sustained her through the rest of dinner, even as Bohdan’s eyes wandered to her.