He was genuinely beautiful, she registered again, the way she registered weather or architecture. Objectively notable. Interesting to look at.
And utterly wasted on her.
"Ken," she said.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Light the room properly."
Ken moved to the wall sconces without comment, touching flame to wick until the amber dimness gave way to clear, even light. The careful romantic staging dissolved instantly. Caius remained exactly as compelling in full light as he'd been in low light, which told her the aesthetic wasn't manufactured — it was just him, which was somehow more annoying.
He blinked slowly in the brighter light, adjusting, and now she could see his eyes more clearly. Dark irises. Pupils slightly large. And behind the warmth he was projecting, something sharper, something watchful, moving the way deep water moved under a still surface.
'There you are,' she thought.
"You're not actually compromised," she said.
It wasn't a question.
A pause. Very short. But real.
