Nazreen

Chapter Thirty-Two

When the morning came around, Emilio broke the lock to the Princess' room, laying his eyes on her for the first time since their argument.

Sure, maybe he'd been a little harsh on her—but she hadn't seen things through his eyes.

Emilio was a seasoned hunter, trained by centuries and experience. If he allowed room for tricksy stunts like that, he'd have been dead millennium ago.

And she'd been so close—so close to causing them a huge problem.

They were so very lucky Ronan hadn't challenged him. Because God, Emilio might've been good, but he couldn't fight off the leader of the warlocks.

Everyone knows that you don't bring brawn to a magic fight.

Seemingly everyone apart from Nazreen.

Ronan would've sucked the very life out of them.

Still irritated, he sat down at the end of her bed.

If Ronan had decided to kill Nazreen then and there, it would've been game over. But she didn't think of that, did she?

He could see the reasoning behind her plan, as much as he didn't want to. It was smart. Incredibly smart. Now, she'd armed her people with a weapon Ronan couldn't fight against. But damnit—would it have killed her to run it through with him first? A bit of preparation time would've come in handy.

They were supposed to be figuring things out. Getting themselves onto the same page.

He had a feeling he knew why she'd kept it to herself.

If she'd given him the heads up, he'd have put an end to that plan before it could ever leave the works.

Nazreen thought she was being strong. Emilio saw that she was already strong. She didn't need a dumb stunt to prove it.

"Get up Nazreen." His voice came out hard, cold.

She didn't move.

Exactly what I need this morning.

"Up, Nazreen."

Still nothing.

He bit out a curse.

Reaching out for her, he gave her a shake. "Get up."

He had his bags at the ready, ready to go. His toga hung loose on his chest. He wasn't in the mood to be waiting around forever.

Having lived through these times, he knew which century he preferred.

Definitely the one with electricity.

"Come on Nazreen. I'm not playing around. Get up."

Her little fingers curled around the covers, pulling them right up to her chin.

When her eyes opened, they were warm, but they stared at him coldly.

Great. So this was the stance she was taking.

A part of him had hoped she'd wake up and have forgotten all about their differences. That she'd have taken heed of what he'd said and not make the same mistakes again.

Instead, she was holding this against him, leaving him with the cold shoulder.

He had a feeling she'd be good at the silent treatment. She'd lived most of her life in silence. To her, this cold shoulder would come naturally.

"Come on," He pressed. "We're heading up the mountains today. Eros' portal is at the very top of them."

Strategically placed, sure. Natural portals were veils that broke through the very seams of reality, dividing one world from the next. Enchanted, humans rarely ever stumbled across them. On the approach, they were hit by a feeling of discomfort so unsettling their feet were programmed to steer them the other way.