Chapter 8

Cassia’s Pov

“It’s too early for this. What’s your name?” he asked, his hands across his broad chest.

I wasn’t looking directly at his face, but I was very aware of his movements in case I had to choose between fight or flight. Although both would do nothing to help me if he advanced.

I gulped and bit my lip—a nervous habit—before whispering, “Cassia.”

Does he want to know my name before killing me? Or report me to the scary head matron? Why are our encounters always this crazy?

“Come with me,” he said gruffly, starting to walk out of the room before I processed the message and practically ran after him.

He moved with enviable ease and stealth, passing guards at every turn who bowed to him.

We arrived at a double door—almost all the doors here are double, heavy, and have the royal crest inscribed—and walked into a small dining hall with a kitchenette in the corner. This place was oddly cozy and smelled like cinnamon and citrus—citrusy like him.

“You were in the kitchen, right, Cassia