Lord Vermillion and Dara accompanied her down the cobbled path, the center of the Nexus Sanctum coming to life. She couldn't stop thinking about her display, but also couldn't turn off the memory of the golden amber eyes that had held her attention all morning.
"I'm going to take my seat with the others," Lord Vermillion said, turning toward her and giving her a confident smile. "You will do great today. No matter what happens, I'm sure your parents would have been proud of you."
"Thank you," Layla said with a bow as Vermillion turned on his heel and walked ahead to enter the coliseum.
"You got this," Dara chimed in. "Just remember—it's not about the amount of power you have, it's about how you wield it. There is beauty in thresholds that no other kingdom can imagine, so show them."
"I'm nervous," Layla said, wiping her palms down the sides of her dress.
"Just be yourself. I'll be with you the whole time," she said, putting her arm in Layla's and guiding her to the corridor that led into the gates of the coliseum. As they rounded the last corner, Layla slowed her pace as a man appeared, standing in the shadows talking to someone else dressed in the same dark colors.
Her heart stuttered. Those eyes—golden amber, unmistakable even in the dim light.
As he turned, the other man gave him a slight bow before noticing Layla and Dara. Layla stopped completely, her pulse hammering as he faced her, seemingly unbothered by the interruption.
"Your Majesty," he said, moving toward her with that predatory grace she remembered. The ivory white smile appeared as he closed the distance. "Preparing for the displays?"
Dara stepped between them when he got too close, hand at her dagger, teeth bared like a wolf protecting her pack. "That's far enough."
"So this is who you were talking about?" He laughed, looking over Dara's shoulder at Layla. Recognition flickered in his eyes—the friend who would come looking for her. Dara's gaze snapped back to Layla, checking if she knew this stranger.
"It's fine," Layla said, resting her hand on Dara's shoulder, though her voice came out breathier than she intended. The scars she could see now in the better light should have made him less attractive, not more. One cut deep across his cheek, another from eye to chin—battle wounds that spoke of violence and survival. Yet they only added to the dangerous pull she felt toward him.
Dara's grip on her blade loosened reluctantly, a low growl rumbling in her throat as she moved back to Layla's side, eyes never leaving the dark intruder.
"And what are you doing here?" Layla asked, fighting to keep her tone steady. "Shouldn't you be on the other side of the pit?"
"Just getting ready for the show. Thought I'd take a walk," he said, straightening his leathers. His voice was lower than she remembered, rougher somehow. The sound of it made something warm unfurl in her chest.
Focus, she told herself. He's dangerous, he's from Umbra. Murder's, spies, and beautiful men apparently.
But her body wasn't listening to reason.
"Well, this was nice. But if you will excuse me, I'm expected to be in the pit," Layla said, proud that her voice didn't shake.
"Of course. By all means, Your Highness. You wouldn't want to be late for your grand entrance," he said, his smile growing wider as his eyes lingered on her lips before meeting her gaze again. He stepped back and gestured for her to pass, but the space felt charged, electric.
"I look forward to seeing your display. I've heard threshold magic is quite spectacular." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Till we meet again."
The promise in those words sent heat racing down her spine. Layla didn't trust herself to speak. She grabbed Dara's arm and pulled her toward the arena opening, fighting the urge to look back. She could feel his stare following her, could almost feel the weight of it on her skin.
"Who the hell was that?" Dara demanded once they were out of earshot.
"Someone I ran across the other night. An Umbra soldier," she said, keeping her eyes focused on the archway ahead. Her palms were sweating again, but not from nerves about the display.
"You're hanging with Umbra soldiers now?" Dara stopped abruptly, forcing Layla to face her. "Umbra is full of spies and cutthroats. Even their soldiers can't be trusted." Her eyes did that glaring thing that always told Layla she was truly upset.
Maybe she's right, Layla thought. Maybe this attraction is just stupidity. But the memory of his voice, the way he'd looked at her like he could see right through her careful royal mask...
"We're supposed to be getting to know our neighbors, right? Isn't this what this thing is all about?" Layla sighed, turning toward her friend.
"Well, yeah... but not them. You would be better off to stay away from them—that's all I'm saying. Who knows what he's told King Malachai? Maybe the king asked him to find out information about you? Maybe it wasn't a coincidence that he happened to be here or anywhere else you've been since you got here." Dara's voice rose with each word. "You can't trust these people, Lay. I'm telling you they are bad news."
The rational part of Layla's mind knew Dara was probably right. But the irrational part—the part that was still buzzing from the encounter—didn't want to listen.
"Look, we can talk about Mr. Dark and Handsome later," Dara said, trying to calm herself. "Just go give them what they came to see."
"Mr. Dark and Handsome?" Layla laughed nervously, smoothing out her dress again with her sweaty palms.
"Well, he was," Dara echoed her laugh, though her expression remained worried. "I'll see you after. Meet me right here and don't wander off."
Layla took a deep breath and hugged Dara, trying to push thoughts of amber eyes and dangerous smiles from her mind. She turned on her heels and walked under the archway into the pit, where a crowd of onlookers and other royals awaited to see what she was made of.
Focus on the magic, she told herself. Not on him.
But even as she stepped into the arena, she could still feel the phantom heat of his gaze on her skin.