I didn't let him touch me again. I turned on my heel and fled the arena, my slippers kicking up dust as I ran for the stairs. Behind me, I could still feel the weight of Gunnar's gaze anchored to my spine, but I didn't look back. I didn't dare. I tore through the doors of the Western Wing and locked myself inside my bedchamber, pressing my back against the wood until my heart stopped slamming.
By the time evening settled over the palace, the air in the room felt charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.
Gunnar hadn't returned from the strategy rooms. The look he'd given me in the arena still followed me around every corner of the chamber, that raw, hungry, unhinged thing that had replaced his usual cruelty. I didn't know what had happened between us in the dust. I only knew he woul
