Exile by Nikki McCormack Page A

sympathy in his eyes told her he wasn’t convinced.
    “He does, but he doesn’t let it interfere with his goals and responsibilities any more than he has ever let anything stand in his way. Yiloch is nothing if not focused when it comes to his empire. He is a good leader. Cruel when it’s called for and benevolent when needed. Unfortunately, there is still much unrest after his takeover and Myac remains a threat.”
    She nodded and sipped her wine again to settle the twisting of dread in her gut. She didn’t want to think about Myac. There was little she could do for Yiloch on that front. “He should marry. An heir would settle the people.”
    Ferin’s brow rose a fraction. “You’re right, but I wouldn’t have expected you to say as much. You are an intelligent and powerful woman, Lady Indigo. It’s a shame you were born Caithin. You would have made a good empress.”
    A bitter edge crept into her laugh then. “I don’t know that I’m all that, Lord Ferin, but I thank you for the compliments and I share your regret.”
    His smile was rich with understanding when he leaned forward, raising his cup to her. “To love, ill-fated or otherwise.”
    She lifted her cup, meeting his with a soft click, and they both downed what remained a touch too eagerly. Heartache and worry, it seemed, went well with wine.
    “More?”
    He nodded, holding out his cup. “If you don’t mind.”
    “Not at all.” She rose to bring the decanter closer. “The night is young.”
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
     
     
    Embracing deepening shadows, Myac blended himself with the night and waited. Across the street, he could still sense Ferin’s presence within the building. Indigo was there as well, at least he suspected as much. If so, her presence remained thoroughly masked as always. The window of upper residence where he sensed Ferin was dark, but someone had modified the glass with illusions that, upon deeper investigation, confessed to the signature of her work. What he saw in that window couldn’t be relied upon as reality.
    Whatever the Lyran adept was doing there, it became apparent after almost an hour of waiting that he was in no hurry to leave. Myac might have suspected some romantic intent, but the casual nature of what little emotion he could leach through the barriers around the place made it clear there were no such intentions. Perhaps they merely intended to chat away the evening, an evening she should have been spending with him.
    Bitter self-disgust swelled in him.
    How could he be so careless? Indigo was attentive and wary as a wildcat. Too much so for him to get away with careless slips in conversation. He ground his teeth and sent a cautious tendril to probe at her barriers again. What would he give to be able to listen in on their conversation? He could determine little from reading Ferin’s faint emotions. The only thing he was certain of was that the man felt comfortable in her presence. It might simply be because she had helped them win the campaign against Emperor Rylan, but Myac sensed there was more to it. What had she done to gain not only the trust, but also the camaraderie, of Yiloch’s inner circle?
    The investigation failed to reveal any openings. Myac turned away from the pointless vigil, determined not to let the evening go to waste. With fresh purpose, he started toward another part of the education district in search of other sport. It had taken little effort to find out where her discarded fiancé, one Jayce Sendir, lived. With what he had gleaned from Serivar and from his sessions with her, he thought he had enough background information to confront the young lord. Now was as good a time as any to see what more of her past he could get access to and maybe stir up a little trouble in the process. Some pain from her past might be exactly the impetus needed to get her to turn to him. If he could only nudge the young lord in the right direction without implicating himself in the process, the rewards