Chapter 17 · The Uninvited Guest

"You're leaking, princess."

His voice hit my back before I saw him.

My spine slammed into the balcony rail. Cold stone bit right through my dress. Ivy shivered against the pillar and he was just... there. Lounging in the dark like he owned it. One leg crossed over the other. Silk that cost more than a house.

"Wrong balcony," I said. "Wrong girl."

"Wrong answer." He tilted his head. Half his face was mask, the rest was smirk and a jaw that could cut glass. "The tilted head? The little frown? The 'oh, I'm so fragile' voice? Cute. You played Augustus like a cheap violin. But you're loud, Sloane. So damn loud."

My blood went cold.

"What did you call me?"

"Sloane." He said it slow, like he was tasting it. "Not princess. Not exile. Not pawn. Sloane. The strategist. The girl who thinks she's the only one here with a degree in psychological warfare."

I shoved my frequency out. Hard. A jagged spike meant to drop anyone in ten feet to their knees.

He didn't even blink.

He hummed. Just hummed — and my spike hit a wall and bounced. My teeth rattled.