{ Avina }
He was leaning against the trunk of an ancient oak just outside the gate line. His hair caught the sun, and his eyes—those unsettling crimson eyes—locked onto me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. He pushed off the tree and closed the distance, stopping so close our shoulders nearly brushed. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the coiled tension in his posture.
“You’ve been released,” he said, his voice cold. “How convenient.”
I swallowed. “The King’s investigators cleared me. I didn’t do anything wrong like I said.”
“So they say.” His gaze raked over me, assessing, suspicious. “Funny how quickly that investigation concluded. Someone wanted you out of here.”
My pulse spiked. “What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything.” He leaned in slightly, his voic
