The silence stretched between us like a pulled thread, taut and liable to snap. Alpha Denton swirled the Dom Pérignon in his glass, unhurried, as if we were two acquaintances sharing an evening drink and not a king and the girl who had just tried to kill his son.
"Sit down, Lady Hazel."
It wasn't a request. I moved toward the three seater and lowered myself into it, my hands folded on my lap, my spine straight. I would not slouch in front of this man. I would not give him anything he could read as weakness.
He watched me settle with that same mild expression, the grin still ghosting at the corner of his mouth. It was the kind of smile that didn't reach the eyes, the kind that meant the person wearing it was several steps ahead of everyone in the room and knew it.
"You tried to kill my son," he said again, almost conversationally, rolling the stem of the glass between his fingers. "With wolfsbane. Stolen from my own doctor."
"You already said that," I replied.
