Yet when I sat down, he shot me a salacious wink. My cheeks flamed, then heated more as hundreds of pairs of eyes landed on me. These ones weren’t accustomed to seeing me veilless. But I refused to show a hint of indecision. I’d chosen before we left Gyor Palace to never wear a veil again, and I would not waver in that now.

When I’d first ventured out in the war camp, I’d been judged as Rokath’s fallen. Whispers of our intimacy—or lack thereof—abounded. Still more about my burgundy eyes and what I’d done to be shackled to the Halálhívó. Pointed stares, conversations falling as I approached then rising after I passed, and absolute avoidance of my path had prepared me for this battle.

At this point, I was basically immune to the males’ scrutiny.

So I steeled my spine and ignored the room exactly as Rokath had. “Parancsok Olet, Hadvezér Rapp,” I greeted them formally, since we had an audience.

“Szélhámos,” they replied. The conversation picked up again among the males seated below us, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

A moment later, a young male appeared with mugs and a pitcher, placing one in front of Rokath and me and filling them with a citrus water. I reached for my glass, only to be stymied when another appeared with trays of food.

Roasted fish in some sort of white sauce filled one plate, while another brimmed with wilted greens. A hunk of bread and some cheese waited at the top corner. The two backed away quickly, disappearing before I’d had a chance to orient myself to what had occurred. Rokath wasted no time grabbing a knife and fork and tearing into his meal, so I took my own and mimicked him. Olet and Rapp resumed eating too.

“How was your journey?” Olet asked us, his plate already empty. Even in the war camp, everyone ate quickly, no matter what was in front of them.

“Thankfully, uneventful,” Rokath started, pausing to sip from his water. “Though Hadvezér Rapp’s constant complaints kept us all entertained.” His gaze cut to Rapp, who stabbed at his fish only for it to fall off his fork when he lifted it. A string of curses fled his lips, and I smothered a giggle at his expense.

“I swear if anyone tells me I can’t start training again in the next week, I’m going to do it anyway. Damn the consequences,” he grumbled, managing to secure his food this time.

“And what did the lead healer have to say?” I asked him, my tone light and teasing.

“Not that,” he grumbled around a mouthful of his dinner.

Olet and Rokath fell into conversation while I tucked into my plate, consuming every last bite. Afterward, my stomach ached from being so full, but I didn’t care. Not when a month ago, I’d nearly died in the desert.

I was going to savor everything life had to offer from here on out.

Including the dessert that the servers placed in front of me a moment later. I’d barely taken two bites when another gong sounded, and I let out a loud groan. Around the tables below, the males rose, forming neat lines to return their plates and glasses.

The servant appeared, and I waved him away. There was no way I was surrendering this. Not yet at least. Besides, I was the Szélhámos now and I got to break a few rules, whether Rokath wanted me to or not.

He raised a single dark brow in my direction. I offered him a similar glower in return, daring him to challenge me. With an irritated sigh, he let me be, telling the servers to take everyone else’s plates first.

I shoveled the rest of the cake into my mouth, barely catching the crumbs that spilled from it. Then, the plate was snatched out from under me.

“Welcome to life at the military academy, Assyria,” Rapp chuckled, swaying to his feet.

I’d lived through worse. Survived a husband who thought he owned me. Held my own against Rokath as we fought each other for control. Escaped death at the hands of the Angels.

But this place? This was going to test me in a way I’d never been before.

Here, I wouldn’t simply stand beside Rokath as his mate.

I’d step into my identity as an Imposter and remake the realm.

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20

The clanging bell yanked a groan from my throat. I rolled over, hand smacking for a pillow, and then dragged it over my head to smother the sound. Rokath snatched it away a moment later.

“Time to rise, little imposter.”

I cracked an eye, the outline of him barely visible in the darkness. “I hate you.”

He chuckled and slid from the bed. Grem and Zeec shook out their fur, ears flapping loud enough to join that damn wake up call. I reached for the blankets to shove them overhead. Two hands closed around my ankles, and without warning, I was yanked from the soft mattress and onto my feet.

“Now I really hate you,” I quipped, a shiver wracking my frame.

“Dress quickly. The next gong sounds in ten minutes,” Rokath told me, striding away.

“Ten minutes?” I groaned, rubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes. This asshole had dragged me from the deepest slumber I’d had in months. The moment I’d returned to our room the previous night, I’d passed out. Had barely roused when Rokath returned.

Fumbling around, I found my clothes and pulled them on. With few precious minutes until the next glorious chime sounded, I laced up my leathers while I stumbled to the bathing chamber.

My mate stood in front of the mirror, running a razor over his scalp. I went to the basin and turned the taps, cupping my hands beneath the frigid water and splashing it on my face. It was…refreshing to say the least. Blinking through the droplets clinging to my lashes, I found a cloth and dried my face.

“While we wait for Xannirin and Kiira, I want to test the limits of your magic. What’s possible, what’s not,” Rokath said, swiping a damp hand over his head.

A smile bloomed on my face. “I can’t wait. I never really had anyone to teach me before you. Everything I know I figured out on my own, by accident.” I’d spent so long hiding my power, at my mother’s behest, I’d almost grown afraid of it. But now, I was stepping into who I was meant to be, and that meant owning every bit of magic that the Giver had blessed me with.

My fingers flew through my hair, pulling the dark strands into a long plait. The tight weave pulled my locks away from my face, highlighting my high cheekbones. Excitement danced in my eyes as I looked at myself in the mirror. “Ready,” I pronounced, spinning to face Rokath.

The breakfast gong sounded at the same time, pulling a small laugh from me. At least this time, we wouldn’t be late for our meal—which was probably why Rokath had dragged me out of bed.

By the time we reached the bottom floor of the keep, the halls were a flurry of activity. Males descended from their watch posts, looking far more alert than those who had risen with us. All streamed toward the heavenly smell of rosemary bread. My stomach rumbled at the promise of food.

Swept up in the tide, we entered the commons. Rokath tucked me close to his side and steered me away from the deep line of soldiers and toward the high table.

Olet and Rapp were already there, the latter looking far better than he had the previous day.

“Morning,” I greeted Rapp, giving his good shoulder a squeeze before taking a seat beside him. Rokath took the chair opposite me, with his officers positioned between us.

Olet turned his attention to me immediately. “Szélhámos, I’d like to extend my sincerest apology. Had I known you were the mate of the Halálhívó, I never would have struck you.”

The muscles of my back flinched at the memory of how he’d whipped me. I swallowed around the feeling of helplessness that arose with it. Rokath’s rage flared down our bond. I flicked my attention to him. The reminder was nearly as painful for him as it was for me. Jaw clenched, he offered me a small dip of his chin, letting me know I was supposed to lead.