Knight Awakened (Circle of Seven #1) by Coreene Callahan Page A

full measure. Now her daughter’s life along with her own was in danger again. All because she’d clung to convention and the past.
    But it was too late now. She could give up. Or give in.
No surrender.
She’d come too far, must hold the line and keep her secrets. “That is none of your—”
    “What does Vladimir want with you?”
    Afina felt her core temperature drop, the chill inside her chest expanding by the moment. With a jerk, she yanked her arm from beneath Xavian’s fingers. Lightning quick, he turned his hand and shackled her wrist.
    Trapped. Unable to retreat, she twisted her hand, fighting his grip. “Don’t!”
    Xavian didn’t let go. Instead he leaned in, using his size as another form of intimidation. “What do you possess that has Barbu frothing at the mouth?”
    That name sent shards of terror splintering like glass, ripping her apart. She’d never spoken it out loud, not since her mother’s death. Sure, she’d cursed him silently. Had railed against fate and the raging sea of circumstance she’d been tossed into, but she had never allowed the name into the light of day. A surname of shadows, brutality swirled in each syllable, without the possibility of mercy, and to hear Xavian...to hear him say...Oh, no. She wanted to press her hands to her ears and scream at the injustice, to admonish the goddess for leaving her so alone.
    Not that she could. The deity she served wasn’t here to protect her. She must do that herself. “Nothing. I don’t even know who that is.”
    “I grow impatient with your lies.”
    “I am not lying.”
    “Nay?”
    “No,” she said, throwing the conviction she didn’t feel into her denial. Giving him a pointed look, she tugged at her wrist. Her strategy was simple. Waylay his suspicions by discounting each and every one.
    Xavian was a bloodhound with the truth. He took his cues from her body as much as her words, weighing her responses, tracking her tension. To divert him she needed to relax and feign indifference. And so she did, letting her mouth curve, pulling away a little at a time, asking without words to be released.
    His eyes narrowed.
    She widened hers, the picture of innocence.
Please, oh, please, let him be fooled.
    “A word to the wise, love...” he trailed off, tone full of warning.
    She pulled on her arm again. His grip loosened. Her heart in her throat, she turned her wrist, twisting away from his hand.
    As her skin slid from beneath his, he murmured, “Be honest with me.”
    “Honest?” Really. Sir Skirts-the-Truth wanted
her
to be honest with him? Afina gave him a pointed look then turned her attention back to his injury and dumped more witch hazel onto the linen. Jamming the stopper on the vial, she flipped it into her satchel and went at his arm. He grunted. She lessened the pressure, gentling her touch, hoping to distract him. “I am your captive, Xavian, nothing more. There is no mystery to solve. No one is after me...and it isn’t any surprise, I’m sure, that I choose not to share my past with the man responsible for my kidnapping.”
    “Liberation.”
    Hah. Right.
There he went again...twisting the truth.
    If her “liberation” was to be freeing, why did she feel trapped, tense, in danger of doing something foolish? Like fall in with the thief and forget all about duty. Her pledge to Bianca—to the Order—meant something. A whole kingdom was counting on her, whether they knew it or not. The fact she was ready to toss it aside for safety in the guise of a handsome face and hard body was disgusting.
    Afina dabbed at his stitches, making certain the witch hazel reached every bit of inflamed skin. And how absurd was that? He caused her pain, made her falter until her convictions ended in a messy pile at her feet. And yet she remained gentle, seeing to hisinjury as though he was beloved, of such value she offered all her meager skill to ensure his recovery.
    She fumbled with the linen in her hand, twisting it to find a clean spot.