Chapter 307: Reuben’s Schemes
The door slammed shut with a hollow, echoing thud, swallowing the last threads of golden light from the sconces beyond. Darkness pressed in like a living thing. Lara’s breath hitched in her throat, her heart thudding against her ribs as rough hands clamped down on her arms, pinning them to her sides with bruising force. The room was dark, the air was musty, and the man restraining her smelled strongly of alcohol, yet she could detect the faint scent of clove and leather.
Someone familiar.
She felt the heat of him—too close, too intimate. His chest rose and fell against her back, his breath warm at her neck. He wore only a thin, sweat-slicked singlet.
Damn him. The realization struck like a slap. Is this some clumsy attempt at seduction? Or something fouler?
Fury ignited in her belly. With a sharp twist and surge of strength born of training and sheer will, she broke his hold, spun, and caught his wrists, forcing his arms behind his back.
Now it was his turn to struggle, to snarl in frustration. "Let me go!" he spat, his voice low, ragged, thick with drink. But no amount of strength seemed enough against the steel grip that bound him now.
A low voice, close to her ear, sent a shiver down her spine. "Let me go, Lara Norse." His voice slurred.
His use of her name snapped her focus sharper than any blade could. She drew in a steadying breath, her tone ice-calm despite the thunder of her pulse. "How did you know it was me, Your Highness?"
The faint glow of light from the cracks beneath the door caught his features as he turned his head—Prince Reuben. His face was a mask of rage and humiliation, flushed with wine and thwarted intent.