Dorian peeled himself from the wall. For all her assassinating experience, she didn’t notice him until he sat down on the bench beside her. “You play beau—”
Her fingers slipped on the keys, which let out a loud, awful CLANK, and she was halfway to the rack of cue sticks when she beheld him. He could have sworn her eyes were damp. “What are you doing here?” She glanced to the door. Was she planning on using one of those cue sticks against him?
“Chaol isn’t with me,” he said with a quick smile. “If that’s what you’re wondering. I apologize if I interrupted.” He wondered at her discomfort as she turned red. It seemed far too human an emotion for Rieo’s Assassin. Perhaps his earlier plan to embarrass her wasn’t foiled yet. “But you were playing so beautifully that I—”
“It’s fine.” She walke
