Page 45 of Hellbound

“Grand Chancellor Valdren, your reputation precedes you. It is my honor to make your acquaintance.” The words were unfamiliar and wooden on Ksenia’s tongue.

Valdren’s bloated cheeks lifted into a serpentine smile. “It’s inevitable when one’s work is the lifeblood of the kingdom. Managing commerce is no easy task.”

His sausage-thick fingers extended toward Ksenia, directly in front of Varka, who wrinkled her nose but leaned to clear the way.

Ksenia unclenched her jaw as she reached forward with her slender hand, which he eagerly grasped and placed a wet kiss upon.

She hated herself. No amount of soap would scrub the feeling he left upon her skin.

“Senka, what a disarmingly plain name for such a beautiful lady.”

She snatched her hand back with a saccharine smile. “My lord, you flatter me so.”

His gaze had drifted back down to her neckline, and Ksenia forced herself to turn away before she buried a butter knife between his lecherous eyes.

Stationed between the two half-siblings, Ksenia studied Varka and Bohdan’s similarities from the corners of her eyes.

Varka’s profile gave her the sharp dignity of a portrait bust, with her slightly hooked nose and defined jawline. Her light green eyes were quick and calculating as they settled on her brother while also subtly cueing the servants in the room.

Bohdan was different. He carried a deliberate elegance, sculpted down to the slight bump on the bridge of his nose. Tawny skin covered his sharp jaw and angled features echoed Varka’s but in a more finely drawn, aristocratic, haughty way—courtesy of that Saranov blood, no doubt. Ksenia could see a hint of a dimple on his cheek, accentuating his full lips that swayed between boredom and disapproval.

She imagined how his eyes would crease in an all-out laugh, but didn’t think she’d live long enough to see the day. His dark green eyes held a different predatory glint than Varka’s, framed by strong, dark brows.

And most damning of all was the vision of him the night she spied on him in his quarters, painted on the cathedral ceilings of her mind, the scars and water droplets littering his skin.

Stop thinking about him.

She shook her head, her mouth dry.

She turned the dense rye bread roll absentmindedly in her hands. A variety of seeds were baked into the crust, and she busied herself spreading herbed butter into the crevices before setting it down. A glazed pheasant beckoned her, her stomach grumbling slightly at the prospect of having a freshly made meal instead of what she’d become accustomed to scrounging from the pantry.

Her knife cracked the glaze with a brittle, splintering snap as she cut into the meat on her plate and chewed it carefully. She wanted to excuse herself from this dinner as soon as possible. Before she—

“So, Senka, are you a smith of sorts?” Bohdan picked up his knife.

She paused mid-sip of her spiced red wine.

“Wasn’t that you the other night, using the forge?” His tone was calm and calculated as he focused on extracting the gristle from his cut of meat.

You absolute bastard.

She slowly set down her goblet, her other hand fisted around her butter knife.

“Mostly in jewelry-making.”

He hummed as if mulling over her answer. The sound made Ksenia’s pulse quicken. Keeping her bondsmithing identity a secret was a matter of life or death, especially from the captain of the Envorsen.

“What compelled you to select a jeweler as a champion, Varka?” Her name sounded half bitten in his mouth.

“Well, you know me, Bohdi. I’ve always been the more progressive thinker of the family—I don’t expect you to understand the strategy.”

“Do you think jewelry can be bonded, Senka?” His sharp gaze held hers unwaveringly. She brought both hands beneath the tablecloth, wringing the napkin in her lap. He was truly despicable.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” she responded coolly.

He hummed again, and the sound jolted her thoughts off-kilter.

“I suppose my curiosities will die there.” He smiled, spearing a piece of meat with his fork.