IMARA'S POV
I stood in that empty corridor long after Ayasha's footsteps faded away. My hands were shaking, though I tried to hide it by clasping them behind my back. The conversation had been a disaster. I'd learned nothing useful, given away too much, and somehow managed to make myself look like a fool in the process.
The golden flecks in her eyes had been so calm when she'd stepped close to me. So confident. Like she knew something I didn't, like she held cards I couldn't even see. When she'd reached out to fix my braid, the gesture had been almost tender, but there was something calculating underneath it. She was playing a game I barely understood.
My chest felt tight, like I couldn't get enough air. The stone walls of the palace suddenly seemed closer, pressing in on me from all sides. I needed to move, needed to think, needed to figure out what I was going to tell Lord Thalen when his man came for answers.
Because he would come. He always did.
