Sylvia looked at Aldric. There was a smile on his face, not the smile she had once known, warm and teasing, but something thinner, edged, dangerous. For an instant, she almost asked what he meant, but fear clamped down on her throat. Her mind spun. If she faltered now, he would see it. She would play bold until she could reach the prince.
Her breath hitched, but she refused to turn away. Slowly, deliberately, she drew in air and straightened her spine.
"You've grown bold with your imagination," she said evenly, though her voice was tighter than she liked.
Behind her, his footsteps came closer—measured, unhurried, deliberate. The sound alone made her pulse stumble.
"Imagination?" he echoed, amusement coiling through his tone. "Strange, then, that your pulse betrays you. I can hear it from here."
