His eyes flick to me, but I won’t get caught in his bronze stare, not again. I turn my head, pretending to examine a painting on the wall. “Nice armor,” I sneer. “It will go well with your collection.” He looks stung, even confused, but quickly recovers. His smile is gone now, replaced by narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. He taps at his armor; it sounds like claws on stone. “This was a gift from Ptolemus. I seem to share a common cause with my betrothed’s brother.” My betrothed. Like that’s supposed to make me jealous or something.
