"You cannot assassinate a Grand Duke," Kaia said, her voice echoing softly in the damp, cedar-scented air of the boathouse. "It is generally frowned upon during social events."
Aeron did not look convinced.
He was standing by the slatted window, staring out at the dark, rippling expanse of Lake Serenity. The moonlight caught the sharp, aristocratic lines of his profile. He looked perfectly calm, which Kaia had quickly learned was his most terrifying state of being.
"The lake is exceptionally deep in the center," Aeron mused, his tone conversational. "A man weighed down by his own arrogance—and perhaps a heavy iron anchor—would never be found. We could say he slipped. The docks are treacherous in the damp."
Kaia pulled the lapels of Aeron's heavy black formal coat tighter around her chest. The velvet was still warm from his body, smelling intoxicatingly of tobacco and mint. It dwarfed her completely, the hem brushing the tops of her silk stockings.
