Ansel was taken aback by Circe's question, his brows furrowing in confusion. Why would she want to know about his next departure?
"Do you always gawk at people like that when they ask you a question?" she asked, her tone as cool and even as it had been throughout their conversation.
Ansel swallowed hard. He was the son of a wealthy lord, the captain of his own ship, and there had rarely been a time when he had been so thoroughly disarmed by another's boldness. But she wasn't just anyone, she was Prince Ragnar's wife.
"I don't understand," he said at last, his voice low and tentative, the words meant only for her ears.
"I don't see what could have confused you," Circe replied, her gaze pressing on him like a weight. Already, she was regretting the little she had revealed. How could he possibly help her and Rowen escape Lamora if he faltered every time she asked a simple question?
